#sorry for left field kinda angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juniperskye · 6 months ago

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I choose you.

Sneak peek: After a one-night stand, you find yourself pregnant. You choose to take some time off to get your life in order (aka ready for a baby), when Hotch stops by to make sure you’re okay. You confide in him and after a late night of talking, and months of mutual pining, Hotch offers to help you raise the baby. With this newfound dynamic, how will Hotch handle you working in the field? How will your lives change?

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 7599 (OMFG sorry)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited I've been working on this for so long...I did my best- please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap (kinda?), secret relationship, mention of period and menstrual cycle, mention of doctors and hospitals, mention of typical pregnancy related care, secret pregnancy, mention of pregnancy, Hotch being a little smothering lol, mentions of canon typical violence, some language, team members meddling, mention of Jack, no mention of Hailey (she just doesn’t exist in this – Hotch has always been a single dad), no use of y/n. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Hey, you’re looking a little green there sugar.” Morgan said, gently nudging your elbow.

“Yeah girl, keep it to your side!” Emily laughed, pushing your file further onto your desk.

“Alright, if I was contagious, don’t you think you’d all be sick by now? It has to be from something I ate…I guess it’s time to clean out the fridge.” Shaking your head you got back to work.

“You know the most common causes of nausea and vomiting are infections (like the stomach flu), food poisoning, motion sickness, pregnancy, and migraines. We can rule out the stomach flu given that none of us have gotten sick, and motion sickness since we haven’t travelled in a few days. I’d say food poisoning seems most likely, and it should pass soon given that it typically lasts anywhere from 12-48 hours.” Spencer rattled off.

“Thanks Spence.” You smiled.

Your mind began spiraling, this little bout of vomiting had been going on for far longer than 48 hours. Was it possible something at home was contaminated and you’d had “never-ending” food poisoning? You thought about the other conditions Spencer had mentioned, no to the stomach flu, no to motion sickness, probably not food poisoning. You had migraines, but definitely weren’t currently suffering from a spell…so that left. Nope. No way.

Could it be possible? When was your last period? Shit. You pulled out your phone and opened the Flo app and your last charted period was…EIGHT WEEKS AGO. What the fuck? How had you missed that? After pondering for a few minutes, you realized that around that time, the team had a particularly tough case where children were being kidnapped from malls in Alabama. The case had a happy ending, but it had taken seven days for you to catch the guy. You had chalked up the missed cycle to stress – it happened sometimes.

After excusing yourself, you made your way to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, you made two calls, one to your primary care physician, and then one to the OBGYN that they referred you to. Thankfully (pure luck truly) they had an opening tomorrow morning.

You quickly made your way to Hotch’s office to see if he would allow you to come in late tomorrow. He was usually understanding about these things since you guys really have to take any doctor’s appointments you can get with your ridiculous schedule.

You knocked on the door frame softly, taking note of his nod, granting permission to enter. You walked cautiously to his desk, trying to work out the phrasing of this request in your head.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, what’s going on?” Hotch questioned.

“Sorry Hotch, I uh, I just have a quick question for you.” You began. “You see, I haven’t been feeling great the last few days, so I called my doctor, and they can squeeze me in tomorrow first thing. Would it be possible for me to come in late so I can make that appointment?”

“Is that all? Of course, just come in when you can.” He finally met your gaze, offering a subtle smile.

**8 weeks pregnant**

You sat, bare legs causing the sterile paper beneath you to crinkle, the noise seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room. You had left a urine sample when you first arrived at the office, and they had just taken a blood sample. The nurse had asked you a million questions and you had to fill out nearly 20 different forms.

“Alright, so the urine test came back as positive for pregnancy.” The doctor informed you.

“Wow, um okay. So, what are the next steps?”

“Well, we are going to send your blood in to check your HCG levels amongst other things, that will give us a pretty good estimate as to how far along you are. We will give you a call when those results come in. I am going to send you home with some literature on what foods, medication, drinks, over all activities to avoid as well as some recommendations for prenatal vitamins and a prescription for some anti-nausea medication. There is also a card in there with the triage number in case of an emergency. So, what questions do you have for me?” The doctor concluded.

“I uh, when will I need to come back in? Also, I am a field agent with the FBI, I guess I’ll probably need a doctor’s note as proof of pregnancy, and then one later down the line I suppose, excusing me from duty.” You inquired.

“Once we get your HCG levels and can get a better idea of how far along you are, we will give you that call and then we will schedule your next appointment. Based on your last cycle, we will probably have you come back pretty soon for a transvaginal ultrasound and then your following appointment would be around your 12-week mark. As for work, I can get you that document now and then yes, as your pregnancy progresses we will discuss changes that will have to be made at work. Did you need a note for today?” She answered.

“Okay, that sounds good. And yeah, a note for today would be great. Thank you.”

Thoughts were racing through your head, the things you’d have to buy, getting your apartment prepared, telling the father (what was his name again…Michael? Brady? You’d have to figure that one out), telling your boss and the team, the changes to your body? Oh god, what have you gotten yourself into?

The second you stepped off the elevator your stomach twisted, and you darted to the bathroom. After emptying the contents of your stomach, you rinsed your mouth out and made your leave. What you weren’t expecting was Hotch on the other side of the door.

“Oh, sorry Hotch.”

“No need to apologize, I just wanted to see that you were alright. JJ let me know she saw you running in here.” He explained.

“I-I’m not feeling too great honestly. Do you think, maybe, I could head home for the day?” you queried.

“I think that is a good idea, you should get some rest. You know, you have a bunch of time off saved up – I’m not telling you to use it, but if you wanted to, it’s there. Do you need a ride home?” He asked.

“No, I think I’m okay. And I also think I am going to take you up on that suggestion. Do you think I could take like the next four days?”

“Absolutely, I’ll submit your time. You head home and get some rest. I’ll let Garcia know, that way she won’t call you if a case comes in.” He said.

“Thanks Hotch.”

“You’re welcome. Do me a favor, let me know when you get home safe.” He requested.

**9 weeks pregnant**

The next four days passed by in a blur, you had read through all the information the OBGYN sent you home with, you’d gone and picked up your medications from the pharmacy, cleaned your house, went grocery shopping, and you gotten your results back from the doctor. You had gotten the call yesterday that your HCG levels had placed you between 8 and 9 weeks pregnant and you had scheduled your ultrasound for the following Wednesday. You’d have to tell Hotch everything when you’re back at work tomorrow.

You also made a very awkward phone call to Jensen (damn, you were wayyy off) and he had been very pleased when you informed him that you didn’t want anything from him, he agreed that it would probably be best that way. You didn’t need to be tied to some one-off forever anyway, this was for the best. You just hoped your child wouldn’t resent you for not having a present father.

A knock at your door shook you from your thoughts. You checked your phone, 7:32 p.m. and a notification from Uber Eats that your tacos had been delivered! You paused your movie and shuffled to the door, checking the peephole once, then twice to confirm the identity of this visitor. You made quick work of unlocking and opening the door.

“Aaron? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were feeling. I also ran into your delivery guy.” He explained.

“Come in, I ordered enough for two if you’re hungry?” You posed.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” He shook his head.

“Not at all, come on in.”

You quickly realized that you were in sweats, a t-shirt, and slippers. You looked to Aaron taking note of his jeans and t-shirt. Casual looks good on him; you’d always thought so. You offered him a drink and invited him over to the couch, making yourselves comfortable and digging in. To the others, this may seem odd, a late-night taco date with your boss and your couch, but this was your normal.

You and Aaron had quickly realized your similarities when you first joined the team. You both had a stone exterior with a warm and fuzzy interior, you were closed off, but loyal and caring. These are the similarities that made your fast friendship so easy. The two of you hung out often, you had regular dinners together, went to movies or had movie nights, you went to the park with him and Jack, and sometimes…you even slept over. You didn’t share a bed or anything – except once when you first moved to your current apartment – your guest room hadn’t been set up yet. He was easily the person you were closest to, which is why it was terrifying to love him. You couldn’t lose him. So, you bottled up your feelings and enjoyed these moments with him.

“So, you’re feeling better then?”

You opened your mouth to reply when you felt it. That tightening lurch in your stomach. You brought your hand to cover your mouth and jumped up, desperate to get to your bathroom. You had barely made it before you were expelling your dinner into the porcelain bowl. You heaved until there was nothing left. It was only then that you felt the warmth of his hands brushing your hair back and rubbing circles over your spine. You slowly sat up and rested back against the bathtub, Aaron leaned against the counter.

“I guess it’s a good time to mention we have a mandated weekend off. I figured you were feeling better if you had ordered tacos.” Aaron teased.

“I was feeling better. And thank God. I could use the extra two days to get my shit together.” You laughed.

“What did the doctor say?” He questioned.

“Well, she uh…” You started.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“No, Aaron it’s okay. I just – I found out that I’m pregnant.” You blurted.

“Oh, that’s – wow congrats. I didn’t realize you’d started seeing someone.” He muttered.

“Thanks, and I’m not. It was just some guy I met while we were in Alabama.” You grumbled.

With Aaron’s assistance, you made your way back to the couch, not before quickly brushing your teeth. After he saw that you were settled, he went to the kitchen and grabbed your anti-nausea pills, some crackers and a ginger ale for you.

The two of you sat and talked for hours, you told him about your doctor’s appointment and the phone call with Jensen. You expressed your excitement and nervousness, both of which he met with reassurance. Aaron was quick to tell you he thought you’d make a great mother and that he, along with the rest of the BAU, would be there for you every step of the way.

The night continued on with the two of you curled up on the couch watching movies, Aaron refilling your ginger ale as needed throughout the evening. Your position had shifted slightly the longer you sat there, you had laid down, your head resting on a pillow against Aaron’s thigh, his hand delicately running through your hair. You turned your head to look up at him, the movement drawing his gaze to you.

“Can I tell you something?” You asked.

“Anything.” He whispered.

“I’m scared to do this alone. I don’t want the kid to grow up and hate me because they don’t have a dad. Plus, I always thought when I had kids, I’d be settled…ya know?” You spoke softly.

“You’re not alone in this.” He replied.

“I know Aaron, that’s not what I meant.” you sighed.

“I could do it.”

“What?” You sat up abruptly, turning to look him in the eyes.

“I could raise the baby with you, I mean if you want. I just, I always wanted a big family, and Jack has asked about having a sibling on more than one occasion, plus we’re close already…” He rambled.

“You would do that for me?” You gasped.

“Of course I would, I’d do anything for you.” He smiled softly.

“So how would this work?” You questioned.

“It’s late, why don’t we head to bed, and we can talk logistics in the morning.” He said, patting your knee.

“Okay.” You smiled.

You woke up the next morning and had to remind yourself that last night was real, Aaron had in fact offered to raise your baby with you. You got out of bed and padded your way to the kitchen. Upon entering you were met with the sight of Aaron in his sweats and a T-shirt, gliding around your kitchen, making breakfast. This felt so domestic, and you couldn’t help the pain in your chest at the fact that this isn’t.

“Good morning!” You greeted.

“Good morning! How did you sleep?” He replied.

“I slept well thanks. You?”

“Pretty good actually. So, how are you feeling about my offer?” He queried.

“I’d like to take you up on it, as long as it’s still on the table. But I think we need to lay out some ground rules, or at least figure out how we would do this.” You explained.

“We’re doing this then! And I agree, we need to sort out all the details.” Aaron suggested.

Aaron and you talked about it a lot over the next few hours and had come to an agreement on nearly all subjects. Aaron would attend doctor’s appointments with you, the child would be raised by you and Aaron and for all intents and purposes, Aaron would be known as dad, when the kid is old enough, you agreed that honesty is crucial, and you’d explain that Aaron isn’t their biological dad. You had agreed on bringing the child up in a loving home and allowing your child to find their own way in religion and politics, neither of you fond of pushing either of those things on a kid. You had also agreed on the importance of education, family time, immunizations, etc.. There were a few things though, that you still weren’t sure of.

“So, Aaron, I guess I am just curious on how we would address a few things. Like with the team or anyone that asks – you’re the father? Or do we tell them there was a sperm donor? Are we honest about the situation? And what about us? Everyone is going to think we’re together. Also, the living situation, you mentioned you want to be around to help but going back and forth from my place to yours, it’s not fair to us or to Jack, what do we do?” You rattled on.

“Okay, slow down. I think with the team and family, we can tell them the truth…to anyone else, I’m the father. If that’s okay with you? For the living situation, I ugh well I was thinking, maybe we find a house? I know how crazy that sounds, but I would be closer to you to help out and Jack could be close to his sibling, at least for a while. It wouldn’t have to be permanent.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “As for us, I don’t want to complicate things sweetheart. I can’t say I’ve never thought about us…maybe we just take it day by day.” Aaron was trying to gauge your reaction.

“That all sounds perfect. We will take it day by day, see where this journey takes us.” You say, reaching to hold Aaron’s hand.

Aaron brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of it. You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. His admission of thinking of the two of you as more than friends, lingers in your mind. You wondered how long he’d been thinking like that but figured you could ask him another time. The bubble you were currently in was far too precious to burst.

“So, should we start house hunting?”

Aaron chucked at your excitement and nodded happily.

**15 weeks pregnant**

The two of you agreed to wait to tell the team, at least until you had settled into your roles as co-parents. You also wanted to wait until you had progressed further in your pregnancy before you shared the news with not only the team, but also Jack. You had expressed to Aaron that you were worried Jack wouldn’t take the news well and he had assured you that Jack would be thrilled with the prospect of having a sibling. Aaron had also informed you that Jack had asked if you could be his new mom once your friendship had grown.

Things had been going well, it had been almost two months since you guys had agreed to do this together and you couldn’t be happier. Aaron had gone to your appointments with you, and that’s where you were currently headed. You had your 15-week appointment today, you’d also be doing some tests to ensure the baby is healthy.

“Alright, did you guys want to find out the baby’s sex today?”

You looked over at Aaron, and he met you with a subtle nod of confirmation. You had discussed this on the way over today.

“Yes we would!”

“You are having a girl, congratulations!” The doctor smiled and made her leave.

Aaron was quick to lean down and embrace you. You were shedding tears of joy, beaming with excitement. He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple and pulled away.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, I scheduled a showing with our realtor. I think you’re really going to like this one!” Aaron gushed.

Aaron drove you over to the most adorable home, judging from the curb appeal, you were thinking his assumption was correct. He helped you out of the vehicle and led you into the home, your realtor was waiting for you just inside the foyer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner, welcome! Please take your time to look around, I will be in the kitchen if you need anything. Aaron, I am going to make a few calls and see what we’re looking at for this one.” Bradley informed.

The two of you agreed to act as a married couple when looking into homes, Aaron had suggested that newlyweds with a baby on the way might be more appealing to a seller. Though things between you definitely felt more like that was becoming your truth as opposed to this fantasy you’d act out when in the presence of Bradley.

Looking around, Aaron led you around the house, showing you each of the rooms on the first floor, then the second. You ended up in the master bedroom, making your way out on the balcony that overlooks the backyard.

“So, I was thinking, the two rooms downstairs, one would be my office, and the other could be a sort of den or library. Up here, Jack could have that first room, the second could be a nursery, and then the other two well they’d be ours, or one could be a guest room.” Aaron offered.

“If we made one a guest room, that would mean that we…we’d share this room? Aaron Hotchner are you suggesting that we share a room?” You teased.

“Maybe I am.” He declared.

You had been playing this game of cat and mouse for the last three weeks. It had started after you had kissed. It happened in the heat of the moment, the two of you were fighting over him subtly benching you from work, you had explained you were fine to which he admitted how important you were to him and that he couldn’t afford to lose you. Upon this revelation, you’d shared a passionate kiss. An action that you hadn’t discussed or repeated since then.

“Well, I think that could work.” You nudged him gently. “This house is perfect honey.”

“Should we go talk to Bradley?” He posed.

“I think so.”

**17 weeks pregnant**

“Can you come to my office please?” Aaron asked.

Naturally this caught the attention of the team. You could tell they were growing suspicious of you and Aaron. They used to make jokes about you guys dating all the time with how close you were, but now, taking time off together to go to doctor’s appointments and hushed conversations in his office. You were sure the team thought you two were together. And now, you guessed they weren’t exactly wrong.

“They are totally dating.” Emily insisted.

“No doubt about it. Last week they left early together on Thursday. I guess Hotch called Rossi and told him they wouldn’t be back, and Rossi said he could hear them giggling. He used those exact words.” Morgan explained.

“Hotch, giggling? No way!” JJ chimed in.

“When do you think they’ll finally come clean?” Emily wondered.

“Whenever they are ready, and none of you are going to push the issue.” Rossi declared.

The others grumbled in defeat as they returned to their tasks. Meanwhile, Aaron was informing you that Bradley had left him a voicemail, asking that the two of you return the call when you could.

“Hey Aaron, thanks for getting back to me. Listen I have good news, your offer went through. You guys got the house! I’ll email over some paperwork, and we will talk next steps soon.” Bradley rushed.

“Thank you Bradley, we appreciate it.” Aaron replied before hanging up the phone.

You shared a look before a cheerful squeal escaped your lips. You jumped into Aaron’s arms, hugging him tightly. He was quick to return it, rocking you back and forth gently.

“We got the house! I can’t believe it!”

“We did sweetheart! Do you want to come for dinner tonight, we can talk to Jack?” Aaron offered.

“That sounds great.”

You made your way back to your desk and caught the tail end of your team’s conversation. They had clearly been speculating about the nature of your relationship with Aaron, and after that little display in his office, you couldn’t blame them. You’d have to bring that up tonight, maybe it was time to come clean.

You were currently cooking dinner while Aaron helped Jack with his homework at the dining table. If this is the life you had to look forward to, you’d be a happy girl. You never felt more at home than when in the presence of the Hotchner boys. You finished up dinner and sent the boys to wash up while you set the table, they returned swiftly and the three of you began eating.

“Jack, bud, we have something we want to talk to you about.” Aaron began. “It’s pretty important and I’d really like you to let me tell you everything before you respond okay?”

“Okay.” Jack nodded, mouth full.

“You know how I’m having a baby right?” You gave him a moment to nod in reply.

“Well, that baby is going to be your little sister.” Aaron explained. “We are going to have this baby, and we’re all going to live together, in a new house. You’ll still go to the same school, but we will live in a house, all together instead of in the apartment.” Aaron concluded.

Jack’s eyes grew wide at the mass of information he’d just received. He glanced from you to Aaron and back to you once more. His mouth fell open, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

“So, does that mean you’re going to be my mom finally? Are you guys getting married? What does the house look like? Will I have to share a room with the baby? And where did the baby come from?” Jack rattled off.

“Oh, well sweetie this doesn’t necessarily mean…”

“Bud, go put your dish in the sink and change into your pjs. When you come back we will answer all of your questions.” Aaron instructed.

Jack shrugged and went first to the kitchen, then shuffled down the hall to change. Aaron knew it would take him a little bit, and he’d likely get distracted before returning, which meant he could talk to you about the first two of Jack’s questions.

“Sweetheart, if I am going to be the father of this baby, would you maybe consider being a mother to Jack? I know it is a lot, but with us living together and raising the baby together, it might make sense for me to formally adopt the baby and you to adopt Jack. That way we really could be a family. If anything happened to me, I would at least know that he’d have someone. He loves you so much and I love you, it just feels right, him wanting to call you mom.” Aaron blurted.

“Y – you love me?” You gasped.

Aaron blushed, having realized his slip up. “I do.”

“I love you too Aaron. And I would love for Jack to consider me his mom, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about us all being a real family like that. As for the adoption, that sounds perfect, I’d have to call Jensen and judging how our first conversation went, it should be a non-issue.” You noted.

“We would just have to get the papers drawn up for you to adopt Jack, his mother signed away her rights when she left us.” Aaron stated.

You looked at him with a saddened expression. The thought of leaving Aaron and Jack breaks your heart, you can’t imagine how she did it so effortlessly. Aaron could see the hurt behind your gaze, and he brought his hand up to caress your cheek, drawing a heat with it.

“Can we go back to a few minutes ago when we both said “I love you” for the first time” Aaron chuckled.

You let out a giggle and nodded, leaning in to meet him halfway for a passionate kiss. The two of you have kissed before, but never like this. Kissing someone who you love and that loves you in return, well that is pure bliss.

“Eww!” Jack shrieks, covering his eyes.

The two of you share a laugh and pull away. Aaron begins clearing the table while you go to get Jack.

“Eww? Eww? Come here buddy! Let me give you a big smooch!” You laughed reaching for Jack.

His laughs rang through the apartment as you jokingly chased him around the living room. When you finally caught up to him, you wrapped your arms around him a pressed a dramatically loud kiss to his cheek. Jack feigned disgust and wiped his cheek off as Aaron entered the room, joining the two of you on the couch with a big smile on his face.

“Alright buddy, I want to answer some of your questions okay?”

“Okay dad.”

“So, let’s start with the house, you are going to have your own room. The house is big with a yard that we can practice soccer in and a pool for us to swim! You will get to see the house soon; we are going to move in just a few weeks.” Aaron explained.

“As for me bud, if you want to call me mom you absolutely can. We aren’t getting married just yet, but we are a family sweetie.” You gently ruffle his hair.

“Okay mom, but you didn’t answer my last question! Where do babies come from?”

Your heart soared at the name, but both you and Aaron choked at his question.

“Uh, we will talk about that when you’re a little older. Go get ready for bed.”

**26 weeks pregnant**

You were nearing week 26 of your pregnancy and you knew, beyond a doubt, that the entire team knew you were pregnant, you hadn’t really been hiding it other than some loose-fitting tops. None of them said anything, but they were all doing everything in their power to make sure you were comfortable, safe, and feeling well in the office and even more so in the field.

On your last case, the whole team worked to keep you stuck in the local precinct as to avoid any potential harm. You knew they were just being protective, but your doctor said you were fine to continue field work for at least a few more weeks. You wanted to work while you still could, and you decided to talk to Aaron about finally coming clean to the team.

“Hey, can I talk to you really quick?” You asked, entering his office.

“Am I talking to you as your boss or as your significant other?” He questions.

“Both I guess? Aaron, I think we need to tell the team. They already know I’m pregnant, that I am sure of. But they are acting like I am made of glass, and I would really like to keep working while I still can.” You declared.

“Sweetheart I can’t say I am particularly upset about everyone being extra cautious for you. I want you safe, and they do too. But if you’re ready to tell them, then let’s tell them.” He admitted.

Aaron called the team to the round table so the two of you could come clean about everything. In the last 18 weeks, your lives had drastically changed for the better, and they’d only continue to do so, so it was only right that you have your BAU family involved and around for the joy to come.

“I called you all in here because we have some news we’d like to share with you all.” Aaron said, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You smiled up at him before continuing. “I am pregnant, as you all already seem to know…but that’s not all.” You and Aaron told the team about your relationship, the pregnancy and how it came to be, Aaron stepping in and being the father, the new house and how you moved in together, you told them everything.

The team met you with shocked expressions, before they bombarded you with congratulations, embraces, and some questions. They asked about Jack and his reaction, they asked about the baby’s biological father, and they asked if an engagement was coming soon.

You had explained that the adoption process had already begun for Aaron and the baby, that Jensen was more than willing to waive his parental rights. You’d also told them how Jack started calling you mom and you were planning to ask him if you could adopt him officially in a few weeks and Aaron said an engagement would occur soon enough as long as you’d have him.

To close out your family meeting, you’d politely asked everyone to remember that you were pregnant, not incompetent, and you would appreciate it if they would let you work like normal (mostly) for the last few weeks you’d be able to. They agreed with some apprehension as long as you’d be careful and let the others lead.

**33 weeks pregnant**

The team had travelled to Colorado for a case, you knew that this would be one of the last times you’d get to travel with the team, so you were going to give this case your all.

For the last month, Aaron had definitely broken his promise and was keeping you on a tight leash. You knew he was only protecting you, but you wanted to do your job. You were damn good at it, and you weren’t going to let anyone tell you otherwise.

“Alright, you are going to stay here and work on the geographical profile with Reid, and I am, going to the latest crime scene with Morgan.” Aaron stated.

“I’d like to go with Morgan actually. I think that my skills would be better suited that way.” You disputed, sending a glare Aaron’s way.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Aaron started.

“Hotch. Let me do my job.”

“Okay go. Be careful, please.” Aaron pleaded.

Morgan drove you to the latest crime scene and you both looked around observing all of the evidence markers and trying to gather as much information as you could. The two of you were bouncing ideas off of one another when glass breaking sounded downstairs.

Morgan brought a finger to his lips signaling to be silent. You both raised your weapons and made your way to the landing. Morgan leaned around the corner to see if he could catch a glimpse of the intruder from the top of the stairs. When it came up empty, he motioned that he was going downstairs, silently telling you he’d let you know when it was safe to follow.

You didn’t move until Morgan signaled for you to do so. When he did, you carefully made your way downstairs. He went left and you went right, making your way through the first level of the home you noticed a broken lamp next to an open window in the living room. Before you had a chance to react, a man grabbed you from behind, his arm wrapping around your throat and his gun pressed to your temple.

“Call out to your partner.” He hissed, pressing the gun further into your skin.

“Morgan, in the living room!” You called.

“Did you find someth-” Morgan trailed off, seeing the unsub holding you. “Woah, okay. We don’t want any trouble okay. You can let her go. We can get you whatever you want man.” Morgan offered.

“DON’T TRY TO PLAY GAMES WITH ME!” The unsub bellowed.

“We’re not – trying to play games with you. We just want everyone to leave here unharmed.” You tried to console the unsub.

“NO! LOOK AT HIM! HE’S GONNA TRY AND SHOOT ME THE SECOND I LET YOU GO! I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID!” The unsub cried.

You could tell he was devolving; he was young, intimidated and sick of being pushed around by men in positions of power. Most notably, his father.

“You’re right. He probably will try and shoot. He’s cocky like that. Always walking around like he’s a gift from God himself. Barking orders at his subordinates and making passes at any female employee. It makes me sick.” You played into his delusions.

“He treats you like that?” The unsub wavered.

“He does. And I can’t stand it! I am sick of being treated like I’m less than. Like I’m not good enough to be here! I deserve more, you deserve more. We are strong and capable, and we should be treated as such.” You continued to work this unsub while Morgan slowly moved into position.

“You’re right! If you can see that, why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he see that I am enough!” The unsub sobbed, his hands dropping to his sides.

Morgan swooped in and handcuffed him after gently grabbing his gun from his hand. The unsub sobbed quietly, realizing the error of his ways. You moved to sit in a nearby chair and Morgan pulled out his phone to call for backup.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, rushing to your side. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you coming with Morgan.”

“Aaron, honey, I’m okay!” You reassured him.

“Hotch, your girl single handedly talked the guy off the ledge. She’s the reason we’re all safe.” Morgan explained.

Aaron looked at you once again. Taking in every part of your body to ensure you had no injuries. He gently takes your chin between his index finger and thumb to glance at your right temple, making a note of the slight bruise that’s developing there.

“I want you to get checked out before we go home.” Aaron informed.

“Okay.” You said, knowing arguing wouldn’t get you anywhere.

After spending far too long at the hospital, you were headed back to the hotel with a clean bill of health for both you and your baby girl. Aaron’s hands hadn’t left you since he’d rushed to your side at the crime scene. They were either holding your own, pressed to the small of your back, or resting on your leg. You knew he was just trying to ground himself in the fact that you were safe.

That night you and Aaron shared a conversation about you going on desk duty for the next few weeks, before your maternity leave started. He was a bit shocked that you didn’t fight him on it…not even a little bit.

**39 weeks pregnant**

You had been on maternity leave for all of five days and you were already out of your mind. The only thing you were grateful for was the fact that you got to spend so much time with Jack.

Your adoption of him had been finalized two weeks ago and everything was done regarding Aaron adopting the baby. Now, you were just awaiting the arrival of your daughter. You were more than ready for her to be here and out of your body, and while the pregnancy hadn’t been particularly difficult, you were exhausted and bloated and just ready to be done.

You were in the kitchen making lunch for Jack and you while he played in the living room. He’d requested a grilled cheese sandwich with some tomato soup. You had just flipped the sandwich when a contraction hit. The pain washed over you, radiating down your spine and through your pelvis. You took a deep breath and check the time, they were about fifteen minutes apart right now, the contractions kept you up all night and had been consistent all day.

“Okay bud, lunch is served!” You set his food down in front of him on the coffee table.

“Thanks mom!” He smiled, taking a big bite of grilled cheese.

“You’re welco-” a sharp hiss escaped your mouth.

Checking the clock again you realize it’s only been about five minutes since the last one. You take a few deep breaths and look around for your phone, it might be time to text Aaron.

“Mom, are you okay?” Jack asked.

“Yeah bub I’m okay. I think your sister is getting ready to come.” You explained.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet her!” Jack cheered, resting one of his hands on your swollen belly.

“I can’t wait either. Jack, could you uh – could you go grab my phone hon?” You requested.

“Okay!” He wandered over to the kitchen to grab your phone.

You felt another contraction coming on and realized that they were coming one after another in shorter bursts of times. You needed to get to the hospital.

Jack returned from the kitchen with your phone and handed it to you. You were quick to dial Aaron’s number. It rang three times before he picked up.

“Hey sweetheart. Is everything okay?” He questioned.

“Yeah honey, it – it’s time. She’s coming.”

“Now? How far apart are your contractions? Did your water break? Are you in pain? Should I call an ambulance to come and take you to the hospital?” Aaron rattled off question after question.

“Aaron, baby, contractions are three minutes apart now, my water hasn’t broken, I’m not in too much pain, and please don’t call an ambulance. I will drive myself and Jack to the hospital. Meet us there.”

“I will sweetheart. The go bag is on the floor of the closet, on the right side. And the car seat has already been installed. I am leaving right now.” Aaron promised.

“Okay! See you soon.”

**36 weeks pregnant**

“Mrs. Hotchner, can we go swimming?” Henry asked.

“Of course, bud, you boys go get your swim trunks on and I will get Nora changed. Okay?” You looked at the three boys for confirmation.

After they all shouted okay, they ran to Jack’s room and the bathroom to change, you walked with Nora upstairs to help her change into her swimsuit.

“Alright bug, pink or green?” You asked her.

“No. Blue momma, blue!” Nora demanded.

“Okay bug, blue suit.” You agreed.

You got Nora changed and brought her into your room, before you changed into your own bathing suit in the on-suite bathroom. When you exited, you grabbed Nora and then made sure the boys were all ready and that they had put on sunscreen. The five of you made your way outside, the boys were quick to jump straight into the pool, and you made sure to put on Nora’s swimming vest.

Aaron stepped away from the grill and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder before leaning down and kissing Nora’s head. He went back to the grill and got it cleaned and ready for the burgers you were making tonight.

“JJ texted and said her and Will were on their way. She said to thank you again for picking the boys up from school.” Aaron let you know.

“She doesn’t need to thank me.” You scoffed. “The boys all go to the same school and with me on maternity leave, I have nothing better to do.” You laughed.

“I’m excited to see the team, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.” Aaron sighed, slipping into the pool with you.

“I know honey. We’ve all just been so busy…that’s why it’s taken this long for us to do this reveal” You hugged him. “Do you regret taking the promotion?”

“Not for even a second. It has allowed me more time with you and the kids. I got to see almost all of Nora’s milestones, and I am so excited for this little one to join us here soon.” Aaron said caressing your belly once more.

“I can’t wait either.” You smiled.

One by one the team began filing in through the back gate. Derek and Savanah had come in with Hank. JJ and Will had come in and were quick to greet their sons. Emily, Spencer and Penelope arrived all at once saying their hellos and quickly getting into the pool. And Rossi arrived last, he set the cake and wine in the kitchen and made himself comfortable in the lounge chairs on the deck.

Time passed in slow motion, you made conversation with those around you and ate dinner (Aaron and Derek standing over the grill drinking beer…they were arguing over how long to cook the burgers). Everyone got out of the pool and as the adults sat on the lounge chairs, the kids ran around in the yard, playing soccer.

“Are you guys ready?” Dave asked

After you and Aaron nodded, Dave went to grab the cake. You called everyone over to the table and let them know that you chose to reveal the gender this way because you didn’t want some big flashy party, but rather to be surrounded by loved ones.

“So, there’s one other announcement I’d like to make before we do the gender reveal.” You began. “I will not be returning to the BAU after the birth.”

A chorus of “what do you mean” and “why” and “that’s not funny” rang out around you. This was something that you’d been at war with yourself over for the entirety of this pregnancy. Aaron taking the promotion to a director position, it had shockingly allowed him more time with your family, and it provided a safety that his previous position had hindered. It was a culmination of those facts that led you to your decision.

“What does this mean though? What are you going to do?” Spencer was the one to ask.

“I’m going to teach.” You smiled. “I was offered a position, within the FBI, to teach. You guys will still get to see me, and we will still host everyone, but the hours are better, and they’ll allow me more time at home.”

The team exchanged solemn expressions, but ultimately wished you well. They let you know that they’d miss you and the team wouldn’t be the same without you, but they understood.

“Okay! Sorry. Onto a much happier topic – the gender reveal of our baby!” You exclaimed.

Aaron and you each took a wine glass and held them upside down over opposite edges of the cake. The team counted down 3…2…1…and you and Aaron plunged the glasses into the cake. You each brought the glasses up and held them out in front of you, confusion etched on the faces of those standing before you.

“OH MY GOD! It’s twins! It’s twins isn’t it!” Penelope shouted with glee.

In front of you, enclosed in the wine glass were layers of chocolate cake intermixed with blue frosting. And in front of Aaron was a glass housing chocolate cake with pink frosting. The two of you shared a look, one that held nothing but love and adoration for one another and the beautiful life you’ve built with one another. You loved each other more than anything and your growing family was proof of that, Jack and Nora had been thrilled that they’d be getting both a little brother and sister, and in just a few short weeks, they’d make their debut.

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i’m a big wuss and cry at least twice a week. could i possibly request a ghost x reader where reader is new to the task force and everyone but ghost has warmed up to them and really enjoys their bubbly presence? ghost says something kinda mean, reader cries, and then goes quiet for a few days/a week. everyone notices the change in their personality and gets confused until ghost makes it right <3

Thanks for this request!!🙃🩷 same same tho.

We All Have Our Demons

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of crying, swearing, angst w happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were recently just introduced to the 141 as the newest member. Your sniper skills were top tier, and Price had jumped at the opportunity to make you a part of his team.

The boys on the team had instantly taken a liking to you. You were a welcome addition to the team, and your presence alone helped shift the mood of the team tremendously.

Everyone on the team had been incredibly welcoming to you, all except Ghost. He'd been standoffish since you'd arrived, only giving you a nod when you'd introduced yourself. You had originally just chalked it up to him being weary if he could trust you. Which you more than understood, so while you kept your distance, you still made it a point to be nice to him.

He was always very curt and professional, never letting you hold a conversation with him, but that did not stop you from trying.

You'd always offer to help with various tasks, picked up coffee for him just the way he liked, and on multiple occasions had tried striking up conversations with him, to no avail.

One night, you'd decided you were going to try and talk with him. You weren't used to someone being so standoffish toward you, and wanted to know what you could've done wrong.

Making your way into the weapons rooms, you popped your head in to address your superior.

"Lieutenant?" You approached him with a wide smile.

He regarded you with clear disinterest and mumbled out a "What is it, Sargeant."

"I just wanted to check in with you, sir. I was wondering if perhaps.. I'd done something wrong?" Your hands started to grow sweaty, and you nervously rubbed them on your thighs.

He turned back to his weapon. "Wrong?"

"You just.. seem to not like me, and I'm not sure what I could've done to offend you."

"Like you? It's not my job to like you, and this isn't the place for annoying shit such as friendships. If that's what you're looking for, perhaps you should've looked to do any other field than this one, Y/N." Ghost sputtered, his eyes narrowing at you as he slammed his gun down in frustration.

Your mouth parted slightly, shock washing over you at his words. You knew he was a tough shell to crack, but you'd never thought he'd be so outwardly mean.

"Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you." You muttered meekly, turning to walk to the door. You blinked away tears, and aggressively wiped them from your eyes, not wanting anyone to see you cry.

For the next few days, you'd been rather quiet and kept to yourself. The boys would constantly come up and ask you to join them at the pub or for spar sessions, but you'd always politely decline.

Ghosts words had sunk deep, creating a wound you weren't sure how to heal. Were you really that annoying? Did everyone on base feel that way about you? The words ate and ate at you, and you'd ultimately decided to keep to yourself so as not to bother anyone around you. Perhaps Ghost was right. You weren't here to make friends.

The boys grew concerned, your normally bubbly attitude was gone, and they were lucky if they could even get a few words out of you.

"Anybody know what's going on with Y/N? They have been unusually quiet lately, and I'm worried about them." Soap had asked, sitting down to eat with Gaz and Ghost.

"I've tried talking to them a few times but can barely hold a conversation. You didn't hear it from me, but it was rumored that they left the weapons room crying Friday night." Gaz spoke, a sad smile forming on his lips.

Ghosts ears perked up at this information. You were with him in the weapons room Friday night. You left crying? Why would you have left- Oh. A wave of guilt came washing over him as he realized what had you so upset.

He truly didn't mean to make you upset. He was so used to keeping himself protected. He was afraid to let anyone else in. Then you came in with your bubbly attitude, and regardless of how much he tried to push you away, you still showed interest in him. He was so scared to open himself up to you, this ray of sunshine, and get himself hurt. He couldn't take more hurt in his life.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he went to go and find you.

You were sitting in the courtyard watching the night sky. Your mind was racing with negative thoughts that you couldn't seem to push away. Deciding to turn in early for the night, you moved to stand when you heard a voice call your name. You turned around and were met face to face with Ghost.

"Oh, Lieutenant. Didn't know you were out here. Don't mind me, I was just leaving." You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and made for the entrance.

"Wait." Ghosts voice halted your movements. "I uh, I wanted to talk."

You turned to him, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, and nodded your head slowly.

Ghost looked to the ground for a moment before speaking. "I'm.. not exactly a guy known for extending warm welcomes."

You swallowed thickly, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.

"It's alright, sir. I understand." You said softly.

Ghost lifted his eyes from the grass to meet your warm ones. He felt his heart palpitate from the way you were looking at him. You'd looked so innocent to him.

"No. It's not. I don't give my trust out easily, not to anyone. But that's no excuse to treat you as I did." You could tell Simon was doing his best to apologize, in his own way.

"We all have our demons, sir. I can't fault you for protecting yourself and the team. But I assure you I have nothing but good intentions." You assured him, not breaking eye contact.

"I know." He nodded, his eyes shifting back to the ground beneath him. There was something about the way you looked at him. It made him feel things he'd never felt before. You were such a warm person, and he didn't know how to take you.

"Well, if that's all, I'll leave you to your night, Ghost." You turned to make your way out again, stopping when you heard him speak once more.

"Simon."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Simon." He lifted his eyes to yours, and held your gaze.

Your eyes lit up from the small bit of information he'd given you. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was willing to try opening up to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Simon." You giggled, a vibrant smile covering your face.

He nodded, thankful his mask was covering the light pink tint that was forming on his cheeks.

"Theres... there's a coffee shop up the road. Usually, go to it every now and then. Good coffee there." He fumbled out, heart stammering in his chest. "Be my treat. It's the least I can do for being an arse."

"I would love that, Simon." You were practically beaming. You couldn't stop saying his name, and he sure wasn't complaining. He quite liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He held out his arm to you, and you gladly linked your arm in his. "Shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Wasn't too proud of this one, tbh I rewrote it quite a few times.

Was kind of thinking of making this a 2 parter?

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley angst #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

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punchy x steve with "Why aren't we making out yet? We're 5 minutes into an argument, 5 minutes! Goodness."

thank u for requesting! :D — steve gets angry with you sometimes, but he'll never turn down an opportunity to kiss you (punchy/steve universe, angst-ish, mostly fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

He’s so cute.

Yeah, he’s mad at you and everything, but you can’t get over how adorable he looks.

His scruffy jaw is clenched tight, and there’s a subtle furrow between his bushy brows, and his pink lips are gently pouted. His honey eyes are twinkling too — with anger, maybe, but they’re twinkling at you nonetheless.

With his sweatshirt pushed up to his elbows and his hands on his hips, how are you supposed to do anything but melt for him?

“Okay, Steve,” you huff, interjecting his longwinded rant. You cross your arms over your chest and sink further into the couch while he paces ahead of you. “I know you’re pissed at me, but—”

“Oh, that doesn’t even start to describe it,” he scoffs. His laugh verges on bitter.

“I know that.”

“I mean— I have no words.”

“Is that why you haven’t stopped bitching at me since we got home?”

He stops his pacing to gape at you. “Bitching at you?” he repeats with an incredulous gape on his pretty face. “Seriously? That’s what you think this is?”

You sigh at yourself and drop your head to the back of the couch. You don’t know how to stop saying the wrong thing. You just want him to be upset with you and be done with it, ‘cause if he doesn’t kiss you stupid soon, you’re scared you might die.

“I didn’t do anything wrong— I don’t know what you want from me!”

His brows pinch together. His pretty face swirls with hurt.

You shrink under the suffocating weight of his obvious heartache.

“This stuff is really important to me, babe,” Steve tells you softly, voice light and nearly breaking. “And it’s like you’re just shitting all over it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t wanna spend my Friday night with everyone who bullied me in high school.”

“Oh, don’t play that card,” he scoffs bitterly.

You feel the weight of his words in your chest. Like he’s taken your heart between his fingers and squeezed all the life out of it. You try not to let it hurt you. His insensitivity isn’t your fault.

“This isn’t about them, alright? It’s a big deal for me, but you’re deciding your pride is more important.”

You huff like a dramatic teenager.

Steve laughs in response, but there’s little emotion behind it. “What? Am I annoying you now?”

“Can you just kiss me?” you blurt before you mean to.

He falters. Your plea comes out of left field, makes him forget to be angry at you for a blink of a second. “...What?”

“You can keep yelling at me after, I promise. I just wanna kiss,” you confess, features soft and squishy around the edges — filled with adoration. Your eyes sparkle when they blink up at him, with the hope that he might give in and give you the loving you need.

Steve still wants to be mad at you. He’s too stubborn for anything else. You make it real hard, but he tries to be proud about it anyway. “Why?” he presses and crosses two golden arms over his chest.

“‘Cause we’ve been arguing for five whole minutes, and we aren’t making it out yet,” you answer, voice as soft and sheepish as a child’s. You pick at the fuzz of your sweater and try hard to meet his gaze. “I think it’s gotta be some kinda record at this point.”

Steve doesn’t know how to do anything but be obsessed with you. From the arches of your eyelids, to the base of your neck, to the pudge of your tummy, to the chipped polish on your toes. Your beauty bewitches him. Surely, you must be some kind of witch.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

You beam up at him, smiling so hard that it makes it hard to kiss him back. He leans down and props his weight on two hands along the back of the couch, one on either side of you. You tilt your head back in wait for his mouth.

Steve gives you one fleeting peck — a subtle smacking of his lips to yours that he plans to tease you with after. He’ll pull back, and you’ll pout about it. “One more, Stevie, pleaseee?” you’ll drag out in that pretty voice of yours. And he’ll give you one, but only after hearing you beg a little bit more.

He ends up being the needier one, which maybe shouldn’t surprise him. One peck quickly turns into another. Then a third, lingering and languid thing after he hopelessly melts into you.

You’re the one that ultimately pulls back, lips shining and obviously well-kissed. His knees shake when you smile at him. “Okay. You can go back to being mad at me now.”

Steve shakes his head immediately.

His tongue darts out to swipe along his rosy bottom lip. His eyes dart from your glimmering gaze to your rose-petaled mouth. “I can be mad at you later,” he insists, the warm breath of his softly spoken words brushing your chin. “Now, I just wanna kiss the life outta you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve x punchy #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 • 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦

Summary: Can we got some enemies to lovers with Jude maybe him and the reader “hate” each other but are in the same friend group and one day reader gets hurt and he rushes to come and help her 😩😩 anything will don’t tbh

Genre: fluff, kinda angst

Warning: just some mutual hate, a guy harassing

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x f reader

Author note: found a little creative strike. I didn't proofread

Word count: 1k

Jude Bellingham Masterlist

Enjoy

Jude Bellingham. You hated that 6ft footballer with a passion.

Ever since high school you hated him and he has hated you right back. You weren’t sure how it all started, but quit frankly you don’t care. You couldn’t stand each other.

Even though you both would do anything to stay away from each other you unfortunately had the same friend group which meant you saw each other often when he was in England.

Today was one of those days.

Your friends had invited you to a club. Although you really didn’t want to go you sucked it up. You needed some time out of the house. You got yourself all dolled up. Putting on some pretty makeup, putting on a short silk black dress that showed your cleavage and some pumps. You totally weren’t dressed this was because you knew jude was going to be there.

After a short ride with your friends you arrived at the club. It was full of sweaty bodies colliding with each other. You kinda regret coming due to that site alone.

You followed your girlfriends to the table where everyone else was at. From a mile away you spotted him. Jude was sitting there, white button up on although a few buttons were undone at the top.

His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away.

“We’ve arrived.” Your friend announced as she sat on her boyfriend’s lap. You took a seat beside her far away from Jude.

The night continued and you didn’t do much but stare at the people. You took a few shots with everyone but you weren’t interested in being drunk so that was it.

You weren’t exactly sure what Jude was doing… I mean not that you cared. Last time you checked he was at the bar probably talking to any woman that wanted to get in his pants.

You shook the thought out of your head and got up. You decided that going to the bathroom for a few minutes was the best idea. As you went to find the bathroom you didn’t notice Jude was watching. Actually he watching you all night to make sure you were ok. He was ignoring the fuck out these girls talking to him. His only focus was you.

He watched as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. He was about to turn away until he saw a guy follow you. He didn’t want to take any chances so excused himself from the girls and followed.

You had just reached the bathroom when you spotted the man. You thought he would walk passed to the bathroom but he didn’t . Instead he stopped and stared at you.

You frowned. “Can I help you?”

The guy smirked and shook his head. “I just want to see if I can get your number?”

You smiled. “No, I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.” You lied.

The guy rolled his eyes. “Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know.” He took a step towards you and you backed up until you met the wall. He towered over you making you look up at him.

“She said she has a boyfriend.” You looked over to your left to see Jude. Relief flooded through your body when you seen him.

“Back away from her.” Jude said, his face more pissed than what you seen of him on the field.

The guy did as Jude said. “Lemme guess, you’re the boyfriend.”

You walked over to Jude and spoke. “Yes he is.” You put your arms around Jude waist. “So I don’t want your number.”

The guy looked between the two of you before scoffing and walked away. Back into the party.

You exhaled. “I need to get out of here.” You walked past Jude but he stopped you by take a hold of your arm.

You turned, looking at him. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah I just um… I wanna go home. Can you tell them that for me?” you felt helpless right now in front of Jude. He never saw this side of you ever. It was kinda embarrassing.

You pulled your arm away from Jude as he nodded. You wasted no more time and walked outside. You took a seat on the curve, far away from the entrance and pulled your phone out to call an Uber.

A few minutes passed as you waited.

“Hey.” You looked up from your spot to see Jude standing there with your jacket in his hand. “you forgot your jacket.”

You took it from him, mumbling a thank you. You were expecting him to leave but he didn’t . Instead he took a seat down beside you on the curve.

You said nothing to each other, but you could tell Jude did want to say something.

“Spit it out Bellingham.” You said turning to him.

“why do we hate each other?”

You were stunned by the question. You aren’t sure why he asked but you answered truthfully.

“I don’t know. I wish I did but I don’t.”

Jude nodded. “Yeah me either.” He paused for a brief second before continuing. “I don’t hate you y/n. Even though it seems like I do I don’t.”

You looked at Jude. “well I don’t hate you either.” You sighed bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them.

“Thank you for saving me earlier. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do.”

Jude hummed. “Yeah I’m happy to help. If you need me to be your fake boyfriend more just let me know.” Jude smirked at you. Your stomach did a flip at the simple action. You didn’t know what was coming over you but you didn’t hate I you were starting to like being around him. Crazy how a little bit of time with Jude changed how you feel about him.

“we should hangout sometime.” Jude as taking you by surprise.

“Really?”

Jude nods yes. “Lets start off fresh. Let’s not hate each other anymore. What do you say?”

You smiled at him. “I like the sound of that.”

Jude gave you a smile that filled your stomach with butterflies. You were fucked.

Do you like this style of writing?

#Jude Bellingham x reader #Jude Bellingham #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x you #Jude Bellingham angst

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fortheloveofwonderland · 9 months ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 13 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - Luke finds himself getting acquainted with one of Bandera’s own. When you find a bundle of gifts on Spencer’s front porch, you hatch a plan.

A/N - this chapter kinda came out of left field but I couldn’t leave Luke heart broken so this happened. There are some Spencer x reader snippets but this chapter is very Luke-centric.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, hangovers, allusions to sex, hints of oral (m receiving), one night stands, needy Spencer, whiny Spencer, swearing, titty sucking, handjob, fingering, ending of this one is pretty angsty.

WC - 6k

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Luke Alvez was a man of few words, but no fewer were ever spoken from his mouth than that morning as he sat in the little corner booth in Bandera’s lone cafe.

Between sips of bitter coffee from the chipped mug nothing but awkward silence petered around them. Luke couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with the other person opposite him. Instead his gaze flitted between his mug and the old clock on the wall, whilst he wondered how long it was polite of him to stay.

His temples throbbed and the coffee didn’t go anyway to stem the taste of that goddamn home brewed whiskey on his tongue.

To say he’d made an error in judgement last night was underselling his stupidity.

Images of the night before flashed in his mind's eyes like a broken movie reel. After leaving Spencer’s lodge he’d needed to take the edge off and found himself in the 11th Street Bar.

The old bar keep had plied him with his homemade whiskey which was quite possibly the strongest substance that had ever passed by Luke’s lips.

It didn’t stop him drinking it, shot after shot, until he was bleary eyed and stumbling on his feet.

When he’d stepped out into the cool night air he’d almost fallen down the high curb, would have landed right on his face if it wasn’t for a strong set of arms steadying him.

“Whoa there partner, careful as ya go.” The voice belonging to the man who caught him laughed.

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry. I, uh, probably overdid it a little.”

“No kidding, Cole’s home brew’ll do that.”

There was something alluring about the tall, broad cowboy. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system. Possibly it was because he was painfully lonely and his heart had taken a beating upon finding out Spencer had moved on.

Whatever it was, it led to him happily going home with the man. He knew, even in his drunken state, that it was a bad idea. He knew using some stranger for sex would not make him feel better in the way he wanted.

Yet he did it anyway.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” The man asked him, smiling at Luke.

“Is it that obvious?” Luke chuckled.

“I just never forget a handsome face, is all.”

“Oh.” Luke rubbed his neck. “Oh.”

“What’s ya name?” The man proffered a large hand for which Luke shook.

“L-Luke.”

“Mighty strong name, Luke.” He held onto Luke’s hand slightly longer than a normal hand shake. “I’m Grant, it's nice to meet you.”

Grant, as it turned out, lived very close to the bar. Closer than the hotel Luke planned on staying at and insisted it wasn’t a bother for Luke to stay the night. Honestly Luke was a little lost in Grant’s eyes at this point and probably would have agreed to anything.

Grant offered him a strong mug of coffee upon arrival at his ranch. He wasn’t sure what kind of magic it was sprinkled with but it did seem to help him sober up. But maybe not sober enough.

It was Luke who had made the first move. It had been uncoordinated and unplanned. One minute Grant was talking and the next Luke practically flung himself forward on the couch and kissed him.

“Whoa there cowboy,” Grant chuckled lightly, guiding Luke back by his shoulders. “You sure you’re sober enough to be making these kinds of decisions?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Luke spoke, surprisingly coherently. “I know that I want this.”

And at the time he’d meant it, he did want this. He didn’t realise how he would come to regret it later. But Luke had been unintentionally celibate for too long, not quite getting over the hump of his first time post-Spencer.

Maybe if he could allow himself to take that step, healing his broken heart might not be so difficult.

He couldn’t deny even now in the morning light that it had been an amazing night. Grant was unfathomably good in bed, with his hands, with his mouth. Luke had so many orgasms he still felt a little overstimulated this morning.

It probably didn’t help matters that he’d hurriedly agreed to a shared shower this morning in which Grant awarded him release two more times whilst on his knees.

He hadn’t thought of Spencer last night, but he had however succumbed to thoughts of him this morning. Whilst Grant fellated him in the shower, twice, Luke couldn’t help the way his mind raced over a similar scenario years ago, right before Spencer's arrest, before performing such acts became impossible for him.

Luke didn’t know why Grant had insisted on taking him for coffee this morning but now here they were, in awkward silence whilst they both tried to get out of this situation unscathed.

“I, uh,” Luke cleared his throat. “Last night was fun but I’m heading back to DC later today.”

“Wasn’t expecting nothin’ from ya.” Grant chuckled. “I know a one night stand when I see one. Just doing the polite thing, taking you for breakfast.”

“Right,” Luke nodded, gripping his mug. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this very often.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Grant smirked. “It’s fine, don’t you worry about me. I knew that dog weren’t gonna hunt.”

“Right.” Luke frowned as the saying went over his head.

“I gotta split anyway. It was nice to meet you Luke.” Grant slid out from the booth and got to his feet, picking up his stetson and placing it back on top of his head.

“Yeah, uh, you too.” Luke stayed seated, offering a meek smile to the man.

Grant threw a couple of bills down on the table before turning on the heels of his boots. Luke watched him saunter away, open the cafe door and step outside into the sunshine. Once he was alone, Luke fell back against the chair and rubbed his hands over his face at his own stupidity. You don’t fight fire with fire, but that’s exactly what he’d tried to do.

He closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, his hangover coupled with the aches and gripes from an extreme amount of physical activity encompassing his entire body. He didn’t need to be back at Quantico until tomorrow.

Perhaps he’d get a room and sleep for a few hours, maybe try and see Spencer again when he felt less dizzy and catch a late flight back to Virginia tonight. But obviously the universe had other plans as his phone started to ring.

He grumbled and sat back up, freeing the device from his pocket and groaning at her name flashing on the screen. He sucked in a deep breath before answering it and putting it to his ear.

“Hey Garcia,” he tried to hide his lack of sleep from his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry to have to do this but there have been some developments, you’re needed back at Quantico ASAP.” She did sound sorry, which was surprising coming from her.

“Right, fine.” He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“I’m sorry, I know you really wanted to see boy wonder, I wanted you to see him too.” She was pouting, he could hear it over the phone.

He was silent for a moment or two, staring back at the clock on the wall. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eye with his free hand.

“I did see him. Last night. I couldn’t wait until this morning.” He admitted, knowing she would get the information out of him one way or another.

“Ohemgee, Newbie! Way to bury the leash!” She screeched, causing Luke to grimace at the way his head pounded. “How is he? What did you talk about? Is he okay out there all on his own? Gosh I do worry about that boy all alone. He can’t cook, I bet he’s lost weight, has he lost weight? Without my constant force feeding him cookies I bet he’s lost weight.”

He waited for her to exhaust her line of questioning before he spoke again, sounding incredibly sorry for himself.

“He’s…he’s moved on.” Luke grumbled.

“Moved on? He’s not in Bandera anymore?” Garcia sounded confused.

“No, that's not what I meant.” Luke sighed again, not really wanting to have to spell this out. “He’s moved on…with someone else. I found him in bed with a woman.” He was met by a wave of silence and he knew why. “I’m on speaker aren’t I?”

“Uh, yeah.” Penelope sounded a little guilty. You’ve got Jayje and Em here too.”

“A heads up in the future would be nice.” Luke downed the coffee and forced himself to his feet.

“Sorry, Luke.” Emily’s voice carried down the phone as Luke headed towards the door.

“I had no idea he’d met someone.” JJ added.

“Yeah well, I think it’s been a long time since any of us really knew him.” He threw open the door and squinted at the assault of sunlight when he stepped outside.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Penelope prefaced and Luke held his breath. “And don’t get me wrong, as much as you grate on me Newbie, I do want you to be happy. That being said, is it wrong of me for wanting the same for Reid?”

Luke huffed down the steps of the cafe towards his SUV.

“No, of course it isn’t.” He agreed. “I want him to be happy too. A part of me is glad that he’s not completely on his own here but it doesn’t stop me wishing that he could have found that happiness with me. Is this what closure is like, Prentiss?”

In Penelope’s bat cave, she and JJ looked at Emily with pinched brows, not having been privy to her conversation with Luke at the San Antonio PD.

“Unfortunately so.” Emily ignored them. “It’s probably better that you know rather than always wondering. You might finally be able to close that book now.”

“I’m, uh, I’m just heading to my car, Garcia can you get me on the next flight back to Virginia?” He changed the subject as he unlocked the SUV and slid inside.

“Of course.” She agreed, without her usual flare. “I’ll have the details sent right over.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you all soon.” He sighed once again.

“Alvez, wait a second.” Emily’s voice sounded again.

There was shuffling in which he ascertained she had taken him off of speaker and left the room.

“Yeah Prentiss?”

“I know this is hard, but don’t let this destroy you. I love Spencer just as much as anyone but he is not known for dealing with his problems in a healthy way. Don’t let him break you. You can do better.”

Luke felt tears sting his eyes and he closed them to stop them falling. He leant back against the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Em. I’ll try.” He mumbled.

“I mean you’re already trying right?” Emily’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “What was his name?”

Luke’s eyes shot back open and he stared down at his phone in his hand with a deep frown.

“Excuse me?”

“I might have been keeping tabs on you, a part of me didn’t think you’d make it to Reid’s ranch.” She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. “I checked your GPS coordinates a few times and you never made it to the hotel.”

Luke shook his head as a dry chuckle left his lips. He wasn’t even surprised.

“His name's Grant, I met him at a bar last night.” Luke confessed.

“Hmm, sounds like it could be promising.” Emily was walking, he could hear her footsteps.

“It was a one night stand. And anyway, we live like two thousand miles apart.” He couldn’t help the way he thought that Spencer would know the exact mileage.

“Distance is nothing.” Emily clucked. “You had a good time, yes?”

“Hmm,” Luke nodded, feeling a pleasurable coiling in his stomach when he thought of last night.

“Sometimes when one story ends, another begins.” She mused. “All I’m saying is, would it be the worst thing in the world if you stayed in touch?”

Luke closed his eyes again, picturing the tall, strong cowboy and feeling a shiver pass up his spine. It would not be the worst thing, far from it.

“I gotta go.” He replied. “Got a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back.”

“Okay,” the amusement danced in her tone. “Good luck with that.”

Luke hung up the phone and started the engine. And as if on muscle memory, he started in the direction of Grant’s ranch.

***

You found yourself alone in bed when you woke up the next morning. For a few moments you felt lighter than air. All of your secrets were out in the open, you and Spencer now knew each other on the deepest level. He’d told you he loved you, things were looking up.

But why were you alone?

And then the panic set in. You lept out of bed and hurriedly threw your clothes back on as your heart thundered inside of your chest. Spencer was turning you in. He was on the phone to Luke getting him back here to have you arrested.

You needed to run.

Your panic was thankfully short lived. Upon rushing out of the bedroom you found a breakfast display much like that he’d left on your doorstep a while ago. A bowl of cereal, a fresh mug of lemon and honey tea and a glass of OJ. This one also had a note to accompany it in his near illegible writing.

I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful. I’ll be up at the field when you’re awake. Take your time, have breakfast, take a shower or have a bath or something. I’ll always be close by.

Oh and by the way, I love you.

Your heart soared inside your chest and a smile stretched across your face as you read the words over and over again in your head. You felt a small pang of guilt of thinking even for a second he would turn his back on you.

You ate the cereal and drank the tea and orange juice before making your way back through to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirrored cabinet you spotted the distinctive red blotchy bruise on the front of your throat from Spencer’s lip sucking on your flesh. It made a warmth spread throughout your body at the mere thought.

You brushed your fingers over it a few times, slightly light headed by the way he had marked you. Eventually you turned away and stripped back out of your clothes before hopping in the shower, allowing the water to cleanse you the way your confessions last night had.

***

Spencer had awoken early, as was the norm for him, and quietly slipped out of bed so as not to disturb you. He showered and washed his hair, one of the harder tasks when only having the use of one hand, and played all the events of the past twelve hours over in his head.

Having Luke show up here could have been Spencer’s unravelling. If Luke had arrived here prior to Spencer meeting you, the events could have transpired a lot differently.

Despite it all, Spencer did still love Luke, there was no denying that even from himself. Before you, Luke was Spencer’s only real tangible love. Of course there had been Maeve but there was always a distance between them, he was never able to love her up close.

Spencer had loved Luke in all the ways he’d ever heard talked about. It was a story book kind of love, the likes of which Spencer never expected to find. Luke was supposed to be the end of Spencer’s story and even sometimes still he struggled to really comprehend that it was over.

Him showing up here could have been detrimental to Spencer’s mental health. If he hadn’t been for you.

He knew already, in spite of how little time he’d known you, that you were the big love of his life. And Luke somehow knew it too.

“You were the love of my life.”

“I know.”

“But I wasn’t yours.”

For the last two years Spencer hadn’t been able to let himself consider the way in which his departure hurt Luke. He only had the capacity to focus on his own well-being.

Maybe that was selfish of him. He disappeared without a goodbye to anyone, he owed Luke a goodbye at the very least.

But Spencer hadn’t thought about the hurt that would cause, could only reconcile himself with his own need to escape. Seeing Luke made him acutely aware of just how much pain his absence had caused.

“I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.”

In truth Spencer had been pining, just not for Luke. Spencer had been pining for his old life, perhaps to a degree that included his ex boyfriend. He ached to go back to the time before prison, before he made the decision to go to Mexico. He yearned to do it over, to at the very least tell someone of his plans and not try and go it alone.

But if he hadn’t gone to Mexico, hadn’t gotten arrested and suffered at the hands of his inmates driving him to leave his former life behind he wouldn’t have ended up in Bandera. He wouldn’t have had that run in with Rusty which left him injured at the side of the road.

He would never have met you.

Was he really so in love with you that he would go through all that trauma again in another life if it meant it led to you? That didn’t seem like a rabbit hole that needed traversing and so he cast it from his mind.

He finished showering and dressed in clean jeans, a grey t-shirt and threw a black flannel shirt over the top while you slept. He ate a bowl of cereal and drank a mug of tea, took his new meds and left you breakfast on the counter before heading out to the stable.

He took the horses one by one up the field, leaving Rusty for last. He practically had to wrestle her bridle on her as she was still belligerent towards him. She huffed and stomped her hooves aggressively but Spencer was never one to be beaten.

Eventually he managed to get the thing over her head and lead her out to join the others. Once free to roam she was quick to Willow’s side. Since the trip to Medina Lake the two mares had been inseparable. Spencer had no idea what had transpired to make the two horses become friends but he wished Rusty would warm up to him the way she had his steed.

It occurred to him then that he would probably have to give this place up. With you on the run and on Luke’s radar there was no way the two of you could stay here. Perhaps you could take Willow and Rusty, but Franklin and Wilbur and his cattle wouldn’t be able to follow. Maybe he’d ask around town if anyone was looking to acquire more land and animals to go with it.

The thought made him a little wistful. He liked his ranch, he liked this life. It had been alien to him at first but in time it had become so beautifully ordinary. Perhaps the two of you could find another ranch somewhere, start over together somewhere Luke or Phil would never find you.

He swallowed that thought down, not wanting to ruin what could be one of his last days here by getting sentimental. He leaned against the fence and watched the horses as they grazed and interacted with one another.

He would surely miss this little slice of paradise.

***

Luke emerged from Grant’s ranch house little over an hour later, his hangover a long distant memory. As he stepped out onto the large porch, he actually had a smile on his face.

“Can’t lie to ya, I’m plumb grateful you decided to come back up here.” Grant smiled at him in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of sinfully tight fitting boxers.

Luke felt himself blushing, something he rarely ever did as he took a last look at the strong body leaning against the door jamb.

Grant’s muscles had muscles, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t Luke's usual type, far from it, but there was something so devilishly alluring about the slightly imposing cowboy.

And it didn’t hurt that it was some of the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

“Me too.” Luke confessed, his cheeks burning red.

“Mighty shame you gotta mosey on back up to the city.” Grant smiled a little sadly at him.

“Yeah, it is.” Luke agreed. “I actually came here to ask for your number, maybe? If there’s any chance you’d wanna stay in touch? I know we live really far apart but, uh, I think that I might…quite like you.”

His cheeks were even brighter after his admittance and Grant’s smile grew. He reached out and cupped Luke’s jaw in his hand, drawing him closer so he could kiss him.

“You are one tall drink of ice tea, Luke Alvez.” Grant mumbled against his lips. “And I quite like you too. Gimme ya phone.”

Luke nodded dumbly and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Grant. Grant was quick to input his number into the device and hand it back to him.

“T-thanks.” Luke stuttered.

“You know I always had a hankering for more than this.” Grant sighed wistfully, casting an open palm across his land. “I was born and raised on this ranch. After my folks died they left this place to me. Never chose this life, it chose me. Always thought I’d get out of the south one day, move to some big city, ya know? New York, LA…maybe even DC. Unless that idea scares ya.”

“Why would it…why would it scare me?” Luke swallowed thickly at the implication.

“You seem like the jumpy sort.” Grant winked at him.

Luke sucked in a really deep breath before slowly exhaling. He briefly checked his watch, he was running out time to make his flight and he still had one more stop to make. But he couldn’t pull himself away.

“I was still processing an old break up. It ended suddenly and I never got any closure. But I think I have now, I think I’m ready to move on.” Luke spoke the words out loud and he truly meant them.

“Well that just makes me wanna slap my mama.” Grant smiled sweetly at him despite Luke’s obvious confusion at his sentiment. “I guess it might be high time for me to reconsider city life. New York, LA…”

“Or DC.” Luke finished him for him.

“Or DC.” Grant nodded, drawing him in for another kiss.

Luke allowed himself another few moments to be swallowed up by this delicious cowboy before he regretfully had to peel himself away before he missed his flight back home. Although in all honesty, he didn’t think that would have been the worst thing in the world.

***

You were finishing your tea at the kitchen counter when you heard footsteps on the gravel outside. You smiled to yourself, turning eagerly in your chair, ready to embrace Spencer upon his arrival.

But it wasn’t Spencer you saw heading towards the lodge.

You quickly slipped off the stool to the floor, scrabbling over to the corner you’d inhabited last night while Spencer and Luke had it out. You pulled your knees to your chest, trembling slightly as Luke Alvez’s heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.

A moment later there was a knock on the door. You held your breath.

Had you gotten Spencer’s affections all wrong? Was he simply placating you, distracting you so he could call Luke back here? It was imminent. Any minute now he would break down that door and slap his cuffs on your wrists before hauling your ass back to prison.

How could you have been so naive?

“Spencer?” Luke’s voice carried through the door as he knocked again. “You here, man?”

You hugged your legs, breathing as shallowly as possible in the hopes he might not realise you were there. If he went looking for Spencer you could quickly make a getaway.

“Look I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or you just don’t wanna talk to me but, uh…” he cleared his throat. “We didn’t forget your birthday. Penelope had a load of gifts FedEx’d out here and she made me promise you’d get them. You know she’d never forgive me if I came home with them. Guess I’ll just leave them here. Happy birthday for Friday.”

You heard a shuffling and soon after the footsteps took to the stairs again. You dared to get to your feet, crouching down below the window and peaking outside.

The back of Luke’s head retreated back towards a dark SUV. You watched as he slipped inside of it and then the engine started. It wasn’t long before he was pulling away.

You frowned to yourself, standing up to your full height. So Spencer hadn’t called him, hadn’t turned you in?

You exhaled a shaky breath and crept to the door. It could have been a trap but you didn’t think it was. Upon opening the door you saw a pile of gifts wrapped with sparkly bows and bright wrapping paper. On top was a stack of cards.

Still frowning, you gathered them all up and carried them to the counter. Varying handwriting adorned the multi coloured envelopes, addressed to the likes of Reid, Boy Wonder, Doc and Spence.

You shook your head. So there was one thing Spencer had kept from you, his birthday.

You made the decision to hide the gifts away, scurrying up to your lodge and stuffing them away in a cupboard.

You wanted to do something nice for Spencer, you owed him after everything he’d done for you. Today was Wednesday, Friday was two days away, you were sure you could come up with something before then. You would just have to work fast to put the wheels into motion.

***

“Remind me again why I can’t come with you?” Spencer’s brows pinched together as he looked up at you with a pout from the couch.

“Is it really such a big deal? I just want to go on my own.” You rolled your eyes. He was so persistent.

You needed to go into town and buy some supplies for the small birthday celebration you were planning for him. Yesterday had been busy with cleaning out the stables and barn and you hadn’t had a second alone to contemplate his birthday. It was now Thursday and you just needed to get away from him for an hour or so, but he was being petulant.

“I don’t like the idea of you going into town on your own.” He grumbled.

“Why, I’ve done it before? And we both know I can handle myself.” You scoffed.

“I…those men at the bar, the way they looked at you…I didn’t like it.” His cheeks flushed red.

You couldn’t help but smile and you sidled closer to him, lowering yourself to sit on his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Spence, are you jealous?” You smirked at him.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically. “With good reason too, or have you forgotten about making out with Grant?”

“That was different.” You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You were adamant we were just friends. I’m fairly certain we’re more than that now. I would never cheat on you Spencer, you understand that right?”

“Hmm,” he hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “Might need a little convincing.”

You chuckled at his whiny words, his lips pouting, desperate to feel yours on his. You relented and offered him a chaste kiss before pulling back.

“That’s your lot.” You went to stand but suddenly Spencer’s hand was round your waist, holding you down.

“No, no. Not enough. Not convinced.” He clung to you.

“Is someone a needy boy today?” You laughed, giving him another soft kiss.

“Hmm,” he nodded. “So needy.”

You allowed him another kiss and this time his hand flew to the back of your head to keep you close. His tongue was parting your lips within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t pull yourself away even if you wanted to, the ferocity of the kiss rendering you instantly dumb.

He pulled you properly into his lap so you were straddling his thighs, before his good hand disappeared under your shirt and his fingers brushed across the skin of your back.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into his lips. “I need to go out.”

“You don’t need to go anywhere. What you need to do is get rid of some of these clothes.”

“Spencer,” your tone was warning.

“Whatever you so desperately need to go out for can wait, surely?” His fingers toyed with your bra clasp beneath your shirt.

“If you hadn’t been so tired last night and fallen asleep before I’d even brushed my teeth, you could have gotten some then.” You pulled back from his lips and poked the tip of his nose with your index finger.

“Are you really going to turn me down? When I could freak out at any second, you have to take these good moments when they come, Y/N.” He allowed himself to joke, joking helped him cope.

Your eyes flit down towards his crotch and the bulge in his slacks. The sight was enough for you to shudder and he knew he had you.

You cupped his jaw in your hand, rubbing your fingers into his ever growing stubble. He looked at you through large doe eyes.

“You are so needy today.” You clucked. “What has gotten into you?”

“I have no idea.” Spencer shook his head. “But can we just go with it?”

“What exactly do you want, Doctor Reid?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he hissed.

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you say that.” He pulled you back to kiss you again. “T-touch me? P-please?”

You moaned into his mouth and grinded against his lap. Your hands wandered down the fabric of his t-shirt until you came to the hem.

He sat forward so you could lift it over his head, tossing it aside before you helped him remove your own. His fingers were soon back on your bra clasp and he popped it open expertly, practically ripping the garment from your body.

You sat back, looking at him with a smile. His eyes were unashamedly on your chest.

“Don’t just stare, Doctor.” You scoffed, reaching into his lap and palming him through his slacks.

He bucked into your hand with a growl at the same time as he bowed his head, hurriedly taking your nipple into his mouth.

You closed your eyes as his tongue lapped over your hardened nipple. You stroked him through his pants whilst working the button.

Once you had them open you reached straight into his boxers and tugged his shaft free of its confines. He hissed again, teeth grazing against your nipple.

He sat back as you started to stroke him, returning the favour and starting to unbutton your own pants. Much like you he didn’t bother removing them and instead dove his hand straight inside your panties.

You fisted his shaft at the sensation of his finger brushing over your clit. You kept your eyes on each other firmly.

“God I love you,” he panted, rolling his hips into your hand.

“I love you too, Doctor.” You moaned the last word as he pressed against your swollen bud. “And fuck I love those fingers.”

“I feel the same about your hand.” He nodded.

A second finger joined his first, using them both in tandem to rub circles on your clit. You puffed out a heavy breath, causing your breasts to bounce and Spencer’s gaze faltered to them.

“Good god I missed boobs. You have no idea. I am such a boob man.” He was leaning closer again and taking your nipple in his mouth once more.

You moaned and started to increase your speed on his cock, his own fingers working their magic between your legs.

You rocked back and forth on his hand whilst he similarly bucked into your own. He was frantically sucking your nipple, intent on bringing you as much pleasure as physically possible.

It really didn’t take either of you long to orgasm. Somehow the two of you knew each other's bodies so well already that it was such a simple thing for you both to bring the other to your peaks.

Spencer succumbed first, still suckling on your nipple when he came with a loud groan and bucked into your hand. You felt his come spilling over your hand and probably over his pants too.

The feeling of his hot seed on your skin and the way he writhed beneath you as you continued leisurely stroking him tipped you over the edge soon after and you shuddered on top of him while your head fell to your chest.

You collapsed on him, both of you panting loudly and fitfully. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

“See?” He panted. “Wasn’t that so much better than whatever you were going to do?”

“I’m still going out.” You mumbled into the skin of his sweat slicked chest. “Just as soon as I can get my legs to cooperate.”

It was another five minutes before you were able to move and while you redressed and cleaned yourself up, Spencer went back to pouting at you in his disdain for you leaving him alone.

“You were alone for a long time before I came along, you’ll be fine for an hour. You’re a big tough cowboy, remember.” You chuckled, placing a kiss on his lips before heading to the door.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you.” He grumbled.

“Because I don’t need a chaperone.” You rolled your eyes. “Read a book or something, time will fly by.”

He continued to sulk as you headed for the door and swung it open, before closing it behind yourself. Seconds after you left, Spencer started to spiral. The guilt came in waves, thick and fast. His come was still sticky on his stomach, in his pants. He felt sick out of nowhere.

The thing he felt the most ashamed about was the fact he hadn’t felt ashamed until during the act. He felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

He allowed himself to forget what had happened to him. How could he ever forget? And just like that he was crumbling, tumbling down into an ether he knew all too well.

He embraced it, didn’t try to tether himself, didn’t bother to stop the inevitable. He deserved this, he deserved to suffer for letting himself feel an ounce of happiness.

He wasn’t going to fight it, so instead he let it happen. The anger swelling in his chest, the blurring of his vision. He was ready for it. A part of him welcomed it.

So he fell into the fringes of reality, no longer in control of his own fucked up mind. Divorce the body from the brain. Detach from a world that had only ever wanted him to suffer.

Spencer Reid faded away, or at the very least his mind did. And soon all that was left was a shell of himself, a husk of a man who had seen far too much pain.

He was but an empty vessel. Vacant. Void. Hollow. He surrendered to the momentary bliss he was enveloped into by the promise of detaching from this plane of existence.

This was why he didn’t want you to leave. He was safe when you were here. When you’re gone anything could happen.

And so he simply relented to it. He was so far past the point of being broken that he may as well lean into the fray.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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baddestbittyontheblock · 1 year ago

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✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

✧╯ all things pink by @bucky-barnes-diaries tfatws!bucky x female!reader | fluff, 1.3k

-bucky being the sweetest boyfriend by bringing you flowers on your birthday.

✧╯ protector by @buckybabesonly bucky x female!avenger!reader, platonic steve x female!avenger!reader | angst, fluff, jealous bucky, bucky being slightly mean to reader out of over-protectiveness, minor character injury, 4.2k

-when steve gets injured on the field protecting you, bucky lashes out at you from fear of seeing you in danger, and jealously of steve’s arms around you.

✧╯ take me home by @miserable-sarah bucky barnes x reader | unprotected smut, NSFW, choking, kinda rough, praising (ALOT), smut, dirty talk.

-a guy hits on you at a club, bucky takes control.

✧╯ protector by @vxntagedior mob!bucky barnes x fem!reader | angst, arranged marriage, age gap, insecurity, violence, fluff ending, 1.5k

-the moment bucky fell in love with you

✧╯in the wee small hours of the morning by @hopelessromantic423 ex!bucky barnes x reader

-after breaking up with bucky, you miss him greatly but you don’t feel it’s your place to contact him. one sleepless night, bucky shows up at your doorstep and you two reconcile.

✧╯ one step at a time by @tmpestuous bucky x avenger!reader | angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader. 4.5k

-when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

✧╯ touch it by @tmpestuous bucky x reader | 18+, MINORS DNI, smut, dom!bucky, needy bucky, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, explicit content, established relationship, some fluff, 2.7k

-bucky needs to feel your touch.

✧╯ i'm sorry if i scared you by @venusfalling bucky x reader | reader has long term injuries from previous battles, talk of injuries, canon typical violence

-you deal with the fallout of going to Madripoor with Bucky. part 3.3 of Where You Go, I Go. Based on Ep. 3 of TFATWS

✧╯ vodka on the rocks by @kinanabinks best friend!bucky x fem!reader | mature themes, angst, offscreen reader x john walker, sexual harassment, pictures taken without consent, hurt/comfort, protective!bucky, physical violence, mention of blood, fluff, a kiss.

-when you find out that someone you slept with secretly took photos and videos of you during sex, you feel betrayed - but bucky won't stand by and let that happen to his best friend.

✧╯ steel blue by @rassvetsky bucky barnes x reader | [4.3k] exes to lovers, angst to smut to fluff hehe, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, making out, cunningulus, spit kink, marking, choking, bucky's such a gentleman

-"without giving you a chance to fight, bucky left. For your own good. but almost a year later, as it turns out, neither of you can handle being apart, and bucky missed you too much to play it nice when you're moaning out his name like that."

✧╯ dear january by @writing-for-marvel bucky barnes x enhanced!avenger!fem!reader | a little angst with discussions of bucky’s past & references to him having ptsd, reader has empathy related powers, fluffy ending

-while everyone else is celebrating the new year, all bucky can think about is his resolution and you, though the two are inextricably linked.

✧╯ 3 weeks waiting by @alwaysf0rev3r dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader | needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)

-you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.

✧╯ sunflowers by @bi-disaster-yn bucky barnes x fem!reader

-when bucky and natasha are assigned a mission to go undercover as husband and wife, reader can’t help but worry that their feelings from the red room will resurface.

✧╯ hold my girl by @pellucid-constellations bucky barnes x reader | 2k, fluff in bucky’s pov

-bucky comes home from a mission and needs time to hold his girl.

✧╯ bucky fic by @angrythingstarlight bucky barnes x reader | little bit o' smut, needy, whiny bucky

-“i have to go,”

✧╯ flash bang by @crushedbyhyperbole bucky barnes x reader | 18+ content mdni, smut, some angst, arguing, moody bucky, 1.2k

-how to win an argument with Bucky Barnes? Flash your tits, of course.

✧╯ sniper by @adrinktostopyourthirst bucky barnes x agent!reader | 18+, smut, violence and light angst, 8.9k

-reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with bucky and yelena, but bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. when he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

✧╯ almost speaking by @intrepidacious bucky barnes x fem!reader | 5.4k, miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

-you and bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. that doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

✧╯ three hundred by @adrinktostopyourthirst bucky barnes x reader | 18+. fluff and smut, 5.8k

-bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. he's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. not him. he doesn't need that. he doesn't need you. does he?

#avengers x reader #marvel universe #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #fic recs

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collisvng · 9 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 3 | TWO BADDIES, TWO BADDIES, ONE DENNY’S

THE END ZONE 🏈🩰✨

Pairing 🤎 Seo Changbin x Fem! Reader︎

Genre 🤎 SMAU, University/College AU, Ballett/Football AU, Fluff, Angst, Crack—all of that good shit lol︎

Synopsis 🤎 By recommendation of his coach, Changbin decides to take a ballet class in order to improve his agility and coordination on the field. It seems like a harmless and fun activity at first. But what happens when his ballet partner starts to make him choose between the two?

Warnings 🤎 Brief mentions of food/eating, alluding to weight/eating insecurities, mentions of jealousy, slight swearing

Taglist 🤎 Open!︎ ✨

Word Count 🤎 3,102

In Collaboration With 🤎 @channie-143

✨️MASTERLIST✨️

“THANK YOU!”

You smiled at the sweet, middle-aged lady who had brought you and Changbin your food.

After a 30-minute freak-out over the fact that Changbin decided he was going to pick you up, you found yourself at Denny’s sitting across from the curly-haired man smiling like a complete idiot.

You were on your 15th question now. After deciding that things would be easier if one of you just asked a question and then both answered it, things seemed to be going a lot smoother. By now you had found out whether or not he liked pineapple pizza (he doesn’t), the last concert he went to (he saw Day6 live), how he had his first kiss when he was 13 (it was at homecoming), and various other things about him that for some reason just made sense.

You guys answered most of your questions in the car on the drive over. And the whole ordeal with Changbin picking you up from your dorm sent Felix into retrograde.

When Bin arrived at your dorm Felix was the one to answer the door. He smiled, estranged to his friend’s presence but happy for the surprise nonetheless. He felt so enthralled that his friend had come to visit him out of the blue. But the moment you walked out in your oversized sweater and yoga pants telling Changbin that you were ready, it all seemed to click.

As you hopped into your ballet partner’s Escalade and the both of you drove off, Felix simply stood at your guys’ door with his mouth agape in bewilderment at the fact you just left him there without even so much as a last-second invitation.

It was kinda hilarious. And a great conversation starter.

“Alright, we have five questions left,” you stated as you picked up a fry off your plate. “It’s your turn.”

Changbin cocked his head to the side. “You got that instead of a milkshake?”

“Really? That’s your question?”

“No, sorry…” His voice trailed off as he chuckled. “I’m just surprised, that's all.”

You stared down at your little green smoothie; swirling it around with your straw, watching the extremely tiny pieces of spinach go round and round. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just expected you to get something different I guess.”

“Thought I was going to get something a little more…” you tapped the glass of his strawberry milkshake and smirked, “pink?”

He smiled and looked down at his shake, moving his straw back and forth in an attempt to not blush. “Maybe.”

When the waiter came back with your guys’ food, you watched as Changbin dipped one of his fries in his shake and winced at his questionable combination. He was weird. So weird. But the little laugh he let out when he witnessed you scrunch your nose somehow turned that weirdness into something infatuating.

“Alright,” you repeated, glancing down at the food in front of you before once again giving the man in front of you your full attention, “like I said before, we have five questions left. It’s your turn to ask something. Go.”

“Oooh, okay…” Changbin grabbed another fry and tapped it against his chin. “Um… what is something that you hate?”

“Oh that’s easy,” you nodded. “I hate when people are late. It causes me so much anxiety, especially when people are late for important things… Completely drives me insane.”

“Didn’t you say Han used to always be late? Wasn’t he your dance partner?”

“Yeah. And considering that you’re sitting in front of me right now instead of him, we can both see how that’s going.”

“Right, got it,” Changbin said, giving you a quick nod as he bit the fry that was still in his hand. “Never be late or else the pretty girl gets angry. Noted.”

You chewed on your bottom lip a bit in an attempt to mask the grin that was ever so starting to appear on your lips. Changbin was always so casual with his flirting as if saying sweet things were like his second nature. It was evident he knew how much it flustered you as well considering his smize. You promised yourself you’d get him back for that later.

“Shut up… Your turn to answer.”

He cracked his neck to the side.

“Ah, I feel like mine isn’t that bad,” he shrugged. “I just hate it when people over-repeat themselves. If I’ve already heard what you said the first one to two times, why keep going? Just tap me on the shoulder or something and ask if I understood you before you start rambling. It's not that hard.”

You raised your brow. “You know Han has a bad habit of doing that too, right?”

He paused.

“I have a feeling your friend is going to drive us both crazy in this class.”

“He’s my best friend, it’s to be expected at this point.”

Changbin quietly giggled, making your heart race against your will. You shied away, staring down at the table in front of you and thanking the heavens that your hair was down or else the tips of your ears would surely give you away.

There was a small PING! that came from Changbin’s phone that caught your attention. Your eyes briefly flickered to the screen that lay face-up near his elbow and caught heed of a text that lit up the screen.

Just as soon as the screen lit up, it dimmed. But by the time his screen had gone black, your thoughts were all over the place. Changbin was so busy scarfing down his burger that he hadn’t realized you were staring at the notification as long as you had been. Your mind was confused. In all this time the both of you had practiced together over the week, he had never once mentioned having a partner. But who else would he have listed on his phone like that? And also, why did you care?

It wasn’t until your dinner (definitely not a—) date leaned over the table a bit and asked if you were okay that you finally broke out of your haze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry…”

“You sure? I lost you there for a second.”

“I was just…” you had to think of the right thing to say, “... trying to figure out what to ask for the next question. But I think I got it.”

“Ask away.” He lifted his milkshake up to his lips and took a sip.

You sighed. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

If Changbin’s immediate choking wasn’t evident enough, he wasn’t prepared for that kind of question. So you backtracked.

“Or I mean… partner? If you’re into that, maybe? I don’t know. I’m so sorry—”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he heaved and rested a hand on his chest. “What makes you think I would be dating anyone right now?”

A grimace tattooed itself onto your face as a sudden cringe feeling sat in your gut due to what you were about to admit to.

“I just figured I’d ask,” you shrugged. “I saw the notification on your phone so I just thought…”

He frowned, grabbed his phone off of the table, and clicked one of the side buttons to turn it back on. Once he saw the name on the screen, his confusion turned into fondness.

“Oh, this?” He turned the phone to you. “That’s just my friend Wooyoung. I have his contact like that for personal reasons.”

“You save your friends’ names in your phone like that?”

“You don’t?”

“I have Seugnmin’s name saved in my phone as ‘Seungmin.’” You retorted, laughing in disbelief. “No, I don’t.”

He pouted. “Sooooo… what do you have me saved as then?”

You raised your brow. “Does this count as one of your questions?”

“Now it does.”

You laughed, pulling out your phone from your pocket and began going through your contacts until you landed on his name. A disappointed look from your dance partner is what you were met with when you turned your screen around to just reveal the word “Changbin” along with the words “from ballet class” in parenthesis next to it.

“You didn’t change my contact name after I put it in your phone?” He questioned, letting his own despondency show more than he had hoped.

You shook your head. “No… was I supposed to?”

Changbin pouted; he was clearly hoping for more. It almost made you feel bad.

“And what do you have me saved as?” You asked, slightly curious.

He quickly mimicked you; scrolling through his contacts until he found your number and flipped his phone so that the screen was facing you.

You rolled your eyes as soon as you saw the words:

“Boss Lady 🫡🩰✨”

“Really?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut in disdain. “Changbin, I told you before to stop calling me that. Also, is it just a thing for you? You know, to put a shit ton of emojis at the end of people’s names in your contacts?”

“Do you not?!” He raised his voice slightly, leaning over the diner table as if to insist his way of doing things was obviously the correct way.

“Once again, NO!” You shot back, laughing harder now then you had before. “I mean… Felix’s name in my phone is pretty normal, but I have some people’s names saved weirdly I guess. Minho’s name in my phone is just saved as ‘Min-whore’. And I have Han saved as ‘Minho’s boyfriend,’ so…”

Changbin frowned. “Wait… is Han a little…”

He flicked his wrist, causing you to snort in response.

“Please! That guy’s been trying to get laid by a girl since the moment he stepped foot on campus,” you wiped a tear away from one of your eyes. Laughing this hard seemed so foreign to you. “If he was a little fruity none of us would be surprised, but no—he and Lino are just friends. They’ve been inseparable since orientation so our friend group has a habit of teasing them for it.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

You nodded. “He even tried to ask me out once.”

Changbin’s eyes widened in response and your nodding became even more vigorous.

“Oh I know! It was cute though, to be honest. We’d had a few classes together and he'd always been so nervous around me. Then one night the kid came up to me at a party freshman year and asked if I was seeing anyone. I had to let him down easy and he just immediately apologized and asked if we could still be friends. Now he and Felix are like my other halves.”

“What made you say no?”

“He’s not really my type,” you shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer ever.

Changbin picked out a piece of lettuce from his burger and put it in his mouth as if to remind himself that his food was still in front of him.

“Wait, so what’s your type then?” He asked nonchalantly, a smirk trying to fight its way onto his lips.

You sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth.

“Well you see, I would answer that question… But you already wasted your question and now it’s my turn, sooo…”

Watching your dance partner press his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance brought you a sense of joy you hadn’t felt in a while. You giggled at the unexpected feeling of power, having a sudden surge of energy course through your body.

“Anyways,” you smiled. “My question, my turn.”

Changbin finally grabbed hold of the burger on his plate and took a bite out of it. He sighed as he were a man starved, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head as he chewed his food. You stared down at your plate; a set of 8 boneless wings smothered in buffalo sauce stared back at you.

In theory, eating in public wasn’t bad. But it was something that you preferred doing within the company of friends. You never felt judged by Felix, Han, Hyunjin, or Minho when you went out. Sometimes Seungmin would make a joke here and there whenever you did something as silly as spilling on yourself or ordering wrong. But, it was always in good fun.

Changbin didn’t seem like a judgmental person. If anything he seemed the exact opposite. But he was also a new-ish person. And that alone made you contemplate whether or not you were going to attempt to eat more than just a fry or two in front of him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. So you just proceeded to ask your question instead.

“What made you want to join the football team?”

He smiled, setting his burger back onto his plate. He finished chewing before speaking. “Well you see…”

His answer was longer than you expected, although you didn’t mind. He went on to explain how he grew up being insecure about his weight. He didn’t mind how he looked, but wanted to feel better about his body and how he presented himself. So in high school he took it upon himself to do some research and try different things. He excelled in his anatomy and P.E. classes, which eventually became the reason he decided that kinesiology was what he wanted to study in college.

“The classes are actually really fun,” he explained. “We spend most of the time in the gym on campus in order to stimulate our body and learn about our strengths and weaknesses. Then for homework, we’re supposed to write reflections about our strength and conditioning methods. I’m basically knocking out my degree just by going to the gym, which I already do anyways so it’s great!”

He continued, expressing how much football took part in his weight-gaining journey. Bulking up was heavily encouraged, which Changbin was super enthusiastic about. And it was easier to do since he had begun taking nutrition classes for his major and knew what foods would be beneficial to him. He began going on a mini tangent about the different types of foods that were great for helping build muscle mass and which exercises were good to accompany them with, but then paused once he realized he was losing track of the topic at hand.

“Sorry,” he blushed. Your heart swelled a little when he shied away and let his gaze wander down to his own lap to avoid eye contact. “The point is, football seemed like a fun activity and it not only benefited me in terms of my major but also just in general. It’s helped me a lot with my confidence and has helped me meet a lot of good people. I’m really grateful to be a part of my team.”

The grin on your face was hard to hide, although the faltering behind it was less obvious. You felt happy but jealous of Changbin for many reasons in that moment. Being a dancer, especially in your field, was particularly hard. Body type was a big deal in ballet, or at least it was to you. Being a dance major had always made it extra hard to stop worrying about your body. Your teachers and the artistic staff in the dance department had always alluded that the thinner you are, the better off you are… especially in ballet.

It led to you being insecure about your body; something you had been working on more and more since you started living with Felix. He was always making sure you ate, drank water, and were taking care of yourself. It was one of the reasons why he had gotten in trouble numerous amount of times for smuggling food into the practice room. And soon became one of the reasons Minho had often tried to set up small dinner gatherings at his and Han’s dorm, along with why Seungmin would always try to drag you out on In-N-Out trips with him.

You guys were the same, but also not. While you were struggling to lose weight, Changbin was trying hard to gain weight. Eating affected the both of you in different ways. And as much as you felt proud of him for achieving his goal, there was a stinging feeling in your gut; a sort of longing for the same notion of accomplishment he had that you knew you’d never get. And it hurt.

But you couldn’t tell him that.

“I’m happy for you,” the smile on your face became weaker. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with who you’ve become and the people you’ve surrounded yourself with. That’s a big deal.”

You could feel the burning feeling of salt water prickling from your tear ducts and prayed that it wasn’t obvious that your eyes were starting to glass over. But it was. And you hoped Changbin wouldn’t ask you anything about ballet, because if he did you were sure the dam you were holding back would finally break.

Luckily, he was smart enough to catch on that something was wrong and decided to change the subject instead. Sometimes, men are smart.

“Alright, last question…”

He stared at you, observing every inch of your face. He looked concerned, intrigued, and caring all at once. So much so, that it became your turn to finally shy away from him. He beamed slightly, feeling proud in the way he was able to make you smile once again even if you weren’t able to bring yourself to look at him. Which made his question even easier to ask.

“… Why did you say yes to hanging out with me tonight?”

You chuckled, sniffling a bit before letting your eyes meet his again. Then after a moment or two, you shrugged.

“I don’t know. Something about you just feels nice,” you stated truthfully. “You seem fun.”

“Fun? As in ‘your type’ kind of fun?”

“Now I never said that…”

Changbin’s giggle was followed by your own as the both of you laughed at your own banter for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, things calmed down and you spent the rest of the night discussing regular, mundane topics. You were thankful he didn’t bring up the fact you had almost cried earlier and didn’t quite know how to express your unspoken gratitude. You were more sure than ever now that he was a big sweetheart. And that gave you all the confidence you needed.

It was peaceful.

It was comfortable.

It felt safe.

As you watched Changbin scarf down another fry before taking an additional bite of his burger, you let out a sigh you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.

And finally, you let yourself eat.

taglist: @marcillfll @jiisungllvr @chrizzlaptop @babrieeee

@soupbinlily @pissmori @chlodavids @marnz1990

@worcesheshestershiresauce @hafrenstay @s00buwu

@ismelllikechlorine247 @teenyfinds @itsseohannbin

@silverstarburst @waverzzzzzzzz @jutdwaekkigym @gini143

@lily-loves-kpop @cbninetyseven @unknownangiee-blog

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starryylies · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I’m fairly new so idk how this works but I’ve been thinking of the set of lines from Isle of Dogs that goes “I am not your pet. I never liked you. I don’t care about you. I won’t wait for you. I bite.”. I think it would be interesting to do something with that kinda prompt that can be like angst or angst + happy ending or something idk. I don’t have a character preference so whatever works for you. I hope this makes sense. It’s making more sense in my head lolll. -🐞

Love me nots?

simon dating price’s daughter

Angst with no comfort (sorry) Age gap, reader is prices daughter, forbidden love, Tw:SH, death

Note: Please Google the meaning of the flower names, they’re all related

That movie was so sad

and thank you for the awesome ask!

It’s my first time writing angst I hope it’s ok

She loved him, she needed him, without him she wasn’t one.

But for him she was his best kept secret, his own well done

she wept his name out loud for the world to hear

but he wept hers with a whisper like the mist that disappears on a heated day.

She was tired. She was wasted

But how could she not love this man for how he had saved her that day,

For when her wrists were slit with blood flowing out, touching the marble floor he was the one who,

protected her. loved her. Took her

Oh But no one could know. Oh no,

How could the captains daughter so tender and mild fall for a man who is destined to die.

He loved her she was his and he was hers.

For She was the girl broke down his walls and crawled in like a worm.

His heart was tormented but she patched it up and took the pain as her own.

He loved her like her own since she was the one who owned his soul.

Their love was like a dream, a dream with a rosemary field

But Alas!

That dream came to a halt just as the poppy shot up

She yelled and yelled till her own throat bled,

Crying and yelling she said, “I am not your pet, I never have ever once liked you. No longer shall I care for you neither will I bother to wait and if you dare try to lie to my face again, I shall bite.”

She left slamming the door. His face sagging down

Would she still have slammed the door knowing her lover had got a plan, a plan to write to her father tonight and asking him to finally make her ‘mine’.

A plan to buy a white dress with a Lilac in his hand.

Would she still have slammed the door knowing her lover was going for war?

Would she still have slammed the door knowing he’s passing the bridge that leads to another life?

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stvolanis · 1 year ago

Text

Broken Heartstrings

(one shot)

warnings : dom & sub dynamics, Elvis is kinda abusive, age gap, INACCURATE TIME LINE, angst, Elvis is suspected of cheating,pet-names (baby, doll, darlin’, satin), a hint jealousy (Elvis and OC), manipulation, toxic relationship, OC is naive and kinda (not really) innocent, smut includes degradation (slut, brat), praising, dubcon-ish I guess, spitting, p in v sex, oral (f receiving),size kink, slapping (not hard enough to hurt), man handling, overstimulation, spitting, house wife kink (if you squint), stomach bulge, make-up sex, and overall rough sex. Sorry if I missed anything <3

this is my first story I’ve written for Tumblr, so it won’t be the greatest and might be poorly written to some, but I had fun writing it so enjoy to those who are interested :)

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the days grew longer as the nights seemed to be getting unbearably shorter. Lucy was sitting on a tall bar stool swinging her little frilly sock covered feet back n’ forth as she waited for her husband to get to their shared home. It was late, ‘round 12:30 and he hadn’t shown up to the dinner she had graciously prepared for the both of them. The food was getting cold and her appetite was fading, being replaced by a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t seem to pin.

The couple had their ups and downs, as any other, but lately it seemed to be more downs. he’d come home late, his hair and clothes disheveled. sometimes he’d smell like cheap women’s perfume and other times he’d smell like gin and whiskey. he’d come home with an attitude, and take it out on Lucy since she was the closest one around. She knew he was struggling, but Elvis Presley was not one for opening up and receiving help.

the drinking and coming home late started happening after his mother passed away. he didn’t know how else to cope, so he did what he’d see his father do. he’d been chasing a high he’d never be able to reach, but his determined mind wouldn’t falter. one more drink. one more show. one more hit of whatever he was on in the moment or could get his hands on. anything to help relive the aching in his chest. It was like a poison that spread through his body, draining his energy and overtaking him. but he kept on falling deeper and deeper

but there was her. Lucy. the sweet little 20 year old who kissed his worries and pains away. Lucy, who made him feel like a young school boy all over again. Lucy , who batted her pretty eyelashes up at him when she needed some loving. Lucy, who’d perch herself on his lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he was exhausted from shows, telling him everything he already knew, but it was coming from her, so he’d hear it a million more times if he could. Lucy, who was so sickeningly sweet and naive, she didn’t realize that not everyone wanted wanted to be just her friend.

Elvis didn’t like that.

Elvis knew he scored with Lucy. He knew that she was the purest thing he’d ever be able to obtain in his lousy life. the freshest, kindest and most beautiful little daisy in a field of weeds. Sure, people were throwing themselves at him left and right, but they weren’t real. Girls always on his arm, yet they only cared for his charm, fame and money. Only cared about fucking their way to the top just to be a nice trophy wife on the arm of some rich piece of shit. Running them dry. But Lucy was never like that.

Lucy was from a small town. A southern bell, and a hard worker who took care of her sick mother for as long as she could remember. She always seen the good in people, even when it seemed invisible to others. Her hearts too big for her delicate body, or at least that’s what her momma used to tell her. Lucy worked at a busy diner on the outskirts of her town, and traveling people were always in and out. So it was no surprise to her when Elvis Presley had shown up in a white button down, dark jeans and polished dress shoes with his friends following behind him.

Ever since that day, Elvis made it his mission to be with her. attached at the hip since they laid eyes on each other, and neither of them would have it any other way. But once her husband started touring again, their honeymoon phase was soon ending and arose more arguments, aggression and finger-pointing.

Elvis had promised to have a nice, civilized dinner with his wife as long as she cooked the food and not one of the maids. For hours, Lucy had been feeling waves of excitement as she cooked all day, creating a nice big meal for them to enjoy together for once. It had been so long since they sat down for dinner together. But alas, he was no where to be found.

She looked down at her hands that were between her thighs as she felt her eyes begin to water and her breathing uneven. of course he wouldn’t have come. what was she thinking? as tears began to fall, it seemed as though they wouldn’t stop. The girl wept as she began to throw away the food she had worked so hard to make.

Soon, that sadness and disappointment turned into a bubbling anger in her core. How could he do this to her? Why did she always have to be the one waiting around? She hated feeling reliant on him for the smallest things. Time, attention, love. Things no one else had ever cared to give her, but Elvis had so happily. She hated that they always fell into this routine of cat and mouse. And always, just when she’s about to call it quits, he smooth talks his way back into her arms.

Mumbling words of affirmation to her. How much he loves and cares for her, and how no one else will ever love her as much as he does. How she’s such a good housewife for him, always keeping the house together and waiting for his return like a good girl. How beautiful she is, and the things he loves most about her.

as the anger bubbled in her stomach, she could hear the booming laugh of Elvis through the halls as he cracked jokes with his choice of friends for the nights and all Lucy could feel was disgust. how could she have been so dumb?

In that moment, Lucy decided she’d had enough. She slammed the door open to the kitchen and marched her way through the long halls till she got to the entrance of the house where Elvis stood in all his glory. Oh, how pretty he looked. His smile becoming bigger as he laid eyes on his wife who wore a white, off the shoulder sundress and frilly white socks. she seemed so small and frail compared to him.

But his smile soon faded as he took notice of her puffy red eyes, red nose and trembling lips and worry consumed him. “Woah, darlin’, what’s goin on?” He asked as he took off his coat and laid it on a small round table. Lucy scoffed. “Are you fuckin’ serious, Elvis?” She said dryly as she squinted her eyes.

Elvis clenched his jaw, clearly displeased. “Watch ya mouth when ya talk to me, ya hear?” He said sternly as he pointed a finger at her. Lucy rolled her pretty green eyes. “Where were you? Huh? You were out with women, weren’t you? I can smell them on you Elvis!” She shouted as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

He groaned as he lazily dragged a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout, Lucy? I ain’t been with no women other than you!” He shouted back as he flared his arms out with a dry laugh. “I’m done with your lies, Elvis.” She said as she harshly wiped her tears and turned to leave.

Elvis made quick work of grabbing her arm and spinning her back around, harshly pushing her against the wall as his hand snaked up and snugly wrapped around her neck. Lucy was taken aback, Elvis had never put his hands on her in a way she didn’t like before.

“Dammit, woman, what’s it gonna take for you to calm down and stop accusin’ me of bullshit every damn day?!” He yelled out in her face. Lucy’s body wracked with sobs, and only then did Elvis realize what he’d done. He shakily removed his hands, but didn’t move away from her and instead caged her body in with his slender arms.

Lucy pushed harshly against his chest, trying to create some distance between them but Elvis wasn’t having it as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Let me go, Elvis!” She said, her voice hoarse and broken. “Need ya to calm down first, baby.” He replied as he watched her body tremble

“Oh I need to calm down? How fucking funny coming from the man who just choked me out!” She laughed out dryly as she shot him a look of disgust and anger. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with this attitude you got. After everything I do for you, this is how you wanna act?! Huh?!” He yelled as he began dragging her up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Stop it Elvis, you’re hurting me!” Lucy weakly yelled as his grip tightened around her wrists, surely to leave marks the next morning. Elvis played deaf as he harshly threw her onto their bed, slamming the door shut and swiftly locking it. Lucy’s body bounced as she made contact with the bed before sitting up, ready to speak again till Elvis cut her off.

“Strip.” Was all Elvis said. His voice thick, deep and velvety. Such a sweet sound. If only the words coming out weren’t laced with disappointment and dissatisfaction towards the helpless girl on the bed. Her eyes widened and her words got caught in her throat. Again. Why does this always happen? right when she’s about to stand up for herself, she always backs down the very last second and the cycle continues and worsens each time. But it’s addicting.

Sickeningly enough, she thrives in it. She’s become so accustomed to it, she wouldn’t remember how to live like a normal couple again. The toxicity of their relationship kept her on her toes, and deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. How boring it would be. She knew Elvis wasn’t with other Women, because if he was it would be the cover of every times magazine and she wouldn’t hear the end of it from her friends and family. She knew the perfume she smelled on him was his mommas favorite.

As her shakey hands met the fabric of her white dress and began pulling it off of her body, Elvis rolled up his sleeves and drunk in the sight in front of him. almond green eyes, plump lips and a cute button nose that’s still slightly reddened from her crying. long chocolate brown hair. Full breasts with perky, sensitive nipples that sat ever so perfectly. slim hips and meaty thighs with a round ass to top it all off. But god, how he adored how small she is compared to him.

How tiny she is, is one of his favorite parts about her, and oh, how he used it to his advantage in the most vile ways. it was so easy for someone as big as him to completely destroy her. and that’s exactly what he does.

“Please,Elvis, m’ sor-” she tried, but Elvis wasn’t having it. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ thing from ya, baby.” He said roughly as he gripped her hair at the base and craned her neck up to look at him. her hands gripped his shirt and she felt her slick between her thighs at his tone.

Elvis brought his hand up to her mouth and Lucy stuck her tongue out, welcoming her husbands fingers that harshly hit the back of her throat, making her gag and eyes water. Elvis clicked his tongue. “How can ya take my cock when ya can’t even take my fingers, darlin’?” He chuckled out.

Her mouth closed around his fingers and she began to suck them seductively and Elvis felt his pants tighten at the sight. Pretty eyes staring back up with him, trying to prove she can.

Always a hard worker, huh?

Elvis smirked at the thought as he removed his fingers and instead harshly pushed her upper body down onto the bed, spreading her legs as he dropped to his knees. his mouth watered at the sight. Her cunt was puffy and pink, bud swollen with need and begging for attention. Her slick was seeping out, and there was a wet patch on the sheets of the bed where she had been sitting that was dark and visible. It was such a pretty sight for a starving man.

He spread her lower lips and dragged his tongue between the welt folds, gathering all of her essence. He hummed at the taste of her on his tongue before savoring it for a moment. Then, he sucked her clit into his mouth with such force, her back painfully arched. His tongue skillfully played with her overly-sensitive bud, teasing and sucking as her thighs closed in around his head.

Elvis was pussy drunk. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of his sweet girl. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t care about anything besides making Lucy come as many times as she could on his tongue. He prodded a finger at her sopping entrance before slowly sinking them in, letting them sit before pulling out and harshly slamming back in. Lucy let out a gasp at the intrusion as he began to finger fuck her tight cunt with no remorse.

The small girl felt the coil in her stomach tighten as her fingers gripped his mop of disheveled hair as she pushed her cunt further into the dazed mans face. Elvis curled his fingers in her before sucking her clit harshly one last time, and that’s when it snapped. “Oh my god—Elvis!” She moaned out as she tried to shove his head away from her overstimulated clit, but Elvis wasn’t listening.

“Sucha good girl, satin.” He mumbled against her clit as he felt her juices drip down his chin. God, how sweet she tasted. His entire chin and chest were covered in her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d fuck up a million more times if it meant he could come back home to this.

Lucy panted, out of breath underneath him as he crawled above her sweaty body. He laid the gentlest kisses upon her skin, so tender and sweet. The flutter of his lips against her stomach had her insecurities seeping away into the cracks of the floor boards. The suckle of her nipples, and the releasing ‘pop’, followed by the countless hickies laid where they both knew only he would be able to see had her blushing madly. The caressing of her neck and the soft kiss against her lips made her forget the reason this all started to begin with.

“Ya with me, baby?” He asked. “Yes, Elvis. ‘M here.” She softly replied. Elvis took that as his sign to tighten his hold around Lucy’s neck, lifting her slightly to better look her in the eye. “Good, ‘cause I’m gon’ show ya what happens to ungrateful brats when I’m done with ya.” He said harshly as he slapped the side of her cheek with his free hand, but not hard enough to actually hurt. Just hard enough to know he was gonna fuck her into oblivion.

He spread Lucy’s legs, slapping her puffy, over-sensitive cunt. She softly moaned at the impact, making Elvis chuckle. “Fuckin’ slut.” He muttered as he lined his throbbing cock to her entrance. Elvis inhaled deeply as he slowly pushed his tip in, teasingly pulling it in and out a few times. Lucy whined. “Elvis-” she began. “Shut up, ya take what I give ya, brat.” He said sternly as he gripped her hair. Lucy nodded I obediently as she whimpered out a small ‘sorry’.

Suddenly, the larger man bullied his way inside her wet cunt and she could feel his hair against her throbbing clit. She moaned out as her hand grabbed the arm Elvis was holding her leg up with to ready herself. Elvis spared no mercy as he ruthlessly began bucking his hips into hers, not waiting for her to adjust to his size. She felt like heaven to him, after all, he’d trained her pussy to perfectly fit his cock since the night of their wedding, but after so long of going without being inside of her, she’d tightened up again. Elvis hissed as her walls squeezed him before throwing his head back and letting out a deep groan.

Lucy gripped the sheets below her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the beast on top of her used her cunt like she was a rag-doll solely for his pleasure. “Tight fuckin’ cunt, all for me, mama. Takin’ my dick so well, just like I taught ya, baby.” He said between breaths. Her chest fluttered at his praise, and her cunt squeezed tighter around him. “Ya like that, hm? Like when I tell ya how good you are to me. How nice you fit around my cock. My good girl.” He muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed her hips with such force, they’d be sure to leave a mark.

“Yes, Yes, fuck—yes Elvis. ‘M your good girl. All yours.” Lucy replied through loud moans, her breasts bouncing with ever rough thrust he planted. Something snapped in Elvis at that, and he threw her legs over his shoulder, hitting a new angle. Just the right spot to make her vision blurry and seeing stars. Her back arched as his fingers found her clit, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing it just the right way that made that familiar coil tighten again.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Elvis! p-please mm- lemme cu-cum!” She stuttered out through moans. Elvis reveled in her satisfying sounds, every thrust sent him into orbit as he became pussy drunk, completely consumed in her. He could feel her everywhere. Her soft hands all over him. Her cunt squeezing the life out of him as she was on the brink of an orgasm. the pleas of her crying aloud. Her eyes watering as she stared up at him, overstimulated.

“Hold it, ‘m almost there, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” Elvis replied as his hips shot further into hers. The sound of their sweaty skin echoed through the room, and surely could be heard through the halls. Elvis took notice of the prominent bulge on her stomach, groaning at the sight of him filling her to the brim. He pressed his hand against it. “Feel that? ‘M right here, doll.” He said, his voice laced with desire. Lucy merely whimpered, still trying to hold back on her orgasm.

The sudden pressure on her lower stomach made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she felt the coil once again snap, releasing all her juices on Elvis’ lower stomach for a second time. But Elvis wasn’t done yet as he kept his pace of pounding into her. “Please, I can’t-” she moaned out, Elvis slapped her cheek. “I told ya to fuckin’ wait, but you just hadda be a slut, huh? you’re done when I say ya are.” He hissed. Lucy moaned at the contact of his hand against her cheek before nodding her head vigorously.

Elvis felt his stomach grow tighter as he was closer and closer to finishing. “‘M almost there, j-just ho-hold on f’me, mama.” He stuttered out through the waves of euphoric feelings. All of his senses were overwhelmed and his body felt hot to the touch like it was on fire as sweat dripped down him. He slammed his cock into Lucys overstimulated cunt a few more times sloppily before his hips stilled inside of her.

Elvis soon pulled out and watched as cum dripped out of her sopping, pulsing hole before taking two of his slender fingers and stuffing it back in. “Don’t want it to go to waste, now do we?” He said with a smirk as Lucy’s body wracked with spasms as his fingers penetrated her. Lucy’s hand reached out and stilled his movements with a small whimper. “No more Elvis, ‘s too much.” She whined.

Elvis sighed. “Alright, satin, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he got up and went into their shared bedroom to retrieve a wet cloth before coming back and gently wiping off both of their juices from her sore cunt. Lucy sighed contently as Elvis pressed a few lingering kisses on her thighs and stomach. “You did so good.” Elvis said against her lips before softly kissing her.

“Want you to hold me, please, Elvis.” She muttered back with a cheeky smile. Elvis let out a small laugh, eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Whatever you want, Lucy.” He replied as he laid in bed next to her, bringing her closer and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. She drew small patterns on his naked chest and smiled contently when she felt his hands begin to massage her scalp.

“Yknow I love ya, right?” Elvis said as he glanced down at her in his arms.

“I know, Elvis. I love you too.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

#70s elvis #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fandom #elvis fans #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n

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i-live-in-spite · 5 months ago

Text

Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in.

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern.

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat.

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life.

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy.

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.”

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go.

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.”

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.”

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub.

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me.

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he.

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #angst #transgender #trans masc #spencer reid x reader #self love #coping mechanism

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year ago

Note

Hii, since you asked for some Sam requests, I throught about this.

What about something where reader (female if possible) is a werewolf and it's like full moon, and she's super insecure because she doesn't want to hurt him but he stays with her during the transformation? And it's just super fluffy before and after? Also, It would be great if It was season 1 Sam :3

Thank you in advance, don't worry if you can't or don't want to do this request^^

Have a good day/night <3

.⋆｡Beneath The Moonlight｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x werewolf!plus size reader

You have a deadly secret that you’ve been keeping for almost 12 years but when Sam Winchester blows back into your life, he proves to you that it’s ok to need someone else to help with the burden

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, fear, brief references to a werewolf’s diet, self-harm in the form of using silver against herself, fluff, almost confession, I made her a little more of a traditional werewolf cause I can, brief mention of dead parents, Dean really wants to be Sammy’s wingman

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Your eyes darted to the clock above the kitchen sink as you sliced off yet another piece of pie for the ravenous hunter in your living room. There was just about an hour left till sunset- only an hour until the full moon would breach the horizon and you would be swallowed up by the monster that lived in your chest.

Even now, you could feel her flexing her claws and pushing against the walls of your mind. She wanted out and she would do anything to be free.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing back the sting of tears as you took a deep breath and left the solitude of your small kitchen.

Sam and Dean, the sons of the man that saved you from a werewolf pack 12 years ago. John made it a habit to check in on you every once in a while but after he went missing, Dean decided that he should take on that responsibility. So as you were preparing to weather out another full moon chained up in the basement beneath your isolated farmhouse, the younger two Winchesters appeared on your doorstep, inviting themselves in.

You knew you had to get them out, no one knew your secret and if they found out, you were sure that a silver bullet to the heart was in your future.

“It’s gettin kinda late don’t you think?” You desperately tried to keep your voice level but the flash of hazel told you that you weren’t doing a very good job. You handed Dean his third slice of pie while vehemently ignoring Sam’s gaze.

He had always known how to read your body language, even when you were both 10. “I thought you liked having us here sweetheart.” Dean attempted to croon but instead spat pie chucks across your coffee table. You shot him a look and he sheepishly wiped it up with his shirt sleeve

“I’ve got jobs I have to do early tomorrow and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the space to house two hunters.” Dean paused mid-bite and cleared his throat before a devious smirk grew over his lips.

“Well I guess not but you certainly have room for one.” Before you could comprehend what the older boy was implying, he had wolfed down the rest of his pie and sprung up from the couch with a speed you thought he could never possess, and ran out the front door while yelling behind him. “Have a good night!”

The roar of the Impala’s engine carried over the quiet fields surrounding your house before Sam was even halfway down the hall. Your hands trembled as he walked back into the room, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I’m sorry about him. I can call a taxi or just walk back to town if you really want me gone.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine Sam. Let me clean up and I’ll set up the bed for you.” Your throat was tight with anxiety as you felt the beast inside you grin. He’ll make a good snack, you could hear her say.

“I couldn’t take your bed.” He started but you waved him off with what you hoped was a comforting smile and not a grimace.

“You’re too tall to fit on the couch and I won’t accidentally wake you up in the morning if you’re in my room.” Sam’s footsteps followed you into the kitchen. “Go on, I’ll only be a couple minutes. There should be some extra soap in the hall closet if you want a shower.”

You chanced a look back at your friend and caught the briefest glimpse of a soft look on his face. “Thank you.” He silently turned and left, presumably to make use of your small shower, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

If he was in your bedroom, he wouldn’t hear your screams as you turned.

——————

Pain blazed through your veins like a drug, slowly ripping you apart only to stitch you back together and do it all over again. She hated that you had tied yourself up like a dog- a silver infused iron chain wrapped around your neck and bolted to the reinforced concrete floor, the muzzle that kept her from howling bound tightly to your face and the handcuffs around your wrist that prevented you from moving lest the pure silver burn through your skin.

You eased yourself back against the far wall of the basement and turned your head to look out the lone window in the room. It was small and protected by iron bars but it allowed the warm summer breeze to wash over you, granting you a brief reprieve from the agony you were in.

As the weak moonlight finally brushed over you, your senses sharpened. You could smell the leftovers in your fridge and the scent of soap, you could see the small bugs that flew past the window and the small particles of dust that floated through the dark air. You could hear footsteps-

The basement door creaked open and you whimpered, the sound too grating on your sensitive ears. “Leave!” You snarled, your voice deeper and more dangerous as the wolf slowly consumed your mind. The footsteps continued.

Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed only in his jeans and a t-shirt. He smelt like you with a mixture of his natural musk that you could only detect when he hugged you. His eyes were downturned and shining with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it. It was broken and sounded more like a hyena’s cackle than any sound a human could make.

“I only know hunters, what would happen if I told them I need to eat hearts to live?” Sam flinched but didn’t look scared, he almost looked… sheepish.

“Guess you’re right.” He stepped closer to you, his tall body now illuminated by the pale moonlight. “What I meant to say was, why didn’t you tell me?”

Silence washed over the both of you and your eyes dropped down. The shadows around you were steadily getting shorter, closing you into the far corner of the basement in a vain attempt to keep your wolf at bay.

“You left, like you were meant to. I’m meant to be alone.” You were struggling to speak as your mind slipped into a more primitive state. “Alone- can’t hurt anyone.”

Your ribs cracked and Sam stepped forward. Another wave of his scent washed over you making your chest rumble with a pleased sound. “I would’ve stayed, for you.”

Warmth bloomed across your face even as your back collided with the cool brick wall. “I would’ve taken care of you.” He slowly dropped to his knees only an arm’s length away from you, the moonlight following behind him.

Suddenly you were both ten years old again and grappling with the concept that the monsters in your nightmares were real. But yet again, there was the hazel-eyed son of a hunter telling you that everything was going to be ok and that even if no one else was, he would be there for you, no matter what.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Sh-sh-should be scared.” You growled but nuzzled into his touch anyway, desperate for the first piece of physical affection you had felt since your parents died. He smiled and took the chance to place his other hand beneath where the collar rested across your neck.

“I could never be scared of you.” Your eyes sparkled with tears which he quickly wiped away as soon as they fell. “And you don’t need to be scared of hurting me or anyone else for that matter. I’ll protect you.”

The moon bathed both of you in a serene light for only a moment before your vision began to blur and your body trembled under the strain of your transformation. “I won’t leave you behind, never again.” But it sounded more like ‘I love you’.

And as you finally surrendered to the monster within you, Sam’s face was the last thing you saw and for the first time since you had been condemned to this life, you knew peace.

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starryalpacasstuff · 2 months ago

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A summary of GMMTV 2025 for those who couldn't watch/didn't care enough

(the gays only, obviously)

I was bored and in need of entertainment so I put it on in the background, which happened to be the best decision because some of these have been absolutely hilarious

I would be excited for this but it's gmmtv so they're gonna find a way to fuck it up (The Love Of Siam: The Musical)

JoongDunk solving a murder mystery (Dare You To Death)

SeaKeen frenemies to lovers with a sprinkle of future vision that gives vaguely Bad Buddy 2.0 vibes (Head 2 Head)

OffGunDew love triangle, nothing else to say sorry I got distracted by Gun in black lipstick (Burnout Syndrome)

MilkLove 'midlife' crisis, save the store from going out of business (Whale Store XOXO)

OhmLeng, EarthMix, Jossfluke as messy theatre kids in Only Friends 2 yes you heard me right (Only Friends: Dream On)

WinnySatang, Never Let Me Go 2.0 vibes with an amnesiac prince and gay angst (That Summer)

Scam you into marriage to soon to be divorcees to lovers, gmm heard when we said gay marriage equals gay divorce (My Romance Scammer)

ForceBook solving a murder mystery + imposter stuff (Melody of Secrets)

PerthSanta as primary school teacher boyfriends, amnesia and age regression. yes you heard me right someone showed the gmm people the age regression ao3 tag this is real (Love You Teacher)

SeaKeen and OhmLeng plus many others because its seven goddamn stories in one, missed most of the trailer but OhmLeng are doing rivals to lovers that is also Bad Buddy 2.0 vibes (Mu-Te-Luv)

FirstKhaotung run a cat cafe together but First is a spineless debt collector who can talk to cats + sibling(?) drama (Cat For Cash)

NamtanFilm, MilkLove, ViewMin in Literally GL Only Friends (Girl Rules)

ChokunAston, MickLuke, PodPapang, it's the most highschool bl a highschool bl can possibly highschool bl (Boys In Love)

JimmySea, future vision again, Jimmy is a doctor now who people are trying to murder...for some reason (My Magical Prophecy)

TayNew in another hijinky comedy except it's actually gay this time (A Dog and A Plane)

PondPhuwin in a comedy as Soft mafia heir x So Done photographer (Me and Thee)

SkyNani with MORE future vision/tarot stuff because we don't have enough (WU)

GreatInn in a period bl im sorry i have nothing to say the teaser looked kinda fancy and angsty thats it congrats to the AuoBoom stans tho (Memoir of Rati)

GeminiFourth in period bl that came out of left field holy shit they said enough with the highschool we're giving you guys catholic guilt (Ticket To Heaven)

#dunno how many of these im gonna end up watching and its probably going to be very few but this was fun #gmmtv 2025 #gmmtv2025 #gmmtv #actually fucking insane that there's one straight show and one ensemble show that's mostly straight but 2/7 gay and thats it

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years ago

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Comet Donati [Chapter 3: Steal My Girl]

A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thank you so so so much for the love this fic has received. I wanted to give you a heads up that I will be co-leading a field trip to Japan from July 4th-14th and will therefore have much less time to write. HOPEFULLY I won’t have to skip a Sunday update, but I wanted to make you aware just in case. I hope you enjoy Chapter 3!!! 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, Aegon-induced chaos, ANGST, Iceland, you cannot escape the Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Selected Chapter Quote: “So what, you don’t like me anymore?”

Word count: 8.3k (wtf I need to chill).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Athens, Madrid, Porto, Vienna, Stockholm, and now: descending into Reykjavik through clouds like iron. The North Atlantic is an endless sheen of cold overcast blue, a mirror of the sky. The earth is rocky and anemic. There are no jewel tones here, no sapphires or emeralds or aquamarines or fire opals or topazes. It is impossible to look down at Iceland, this dominion of impassionate jaggedness, and not think of how the Vikings had to reap their treasures from every other corner of Europe, silver and gold and glass and slaves piled into ships to be rowed back to the hostile earth they clung to, perhaps just to prove they could.

Across the aisle of the private jet—more like a penthouse than a plane, posh neutral colors and hand-stitched leather—Luke is showing Aemond his latest lyrics, loops of silver on matte black pages. They’re good, from what you’ve heard. They’re really good. And that tells you what kind of person Aemond truly is as he helps Luke polish rocks into gemstones. Anybody can soften the blow of mediocrity. It takes courage to build ladders for people who might one day outclimb you.

Daeron is playing his Nintendo 64, which is hooked up to a 98-inch flat screen tv; Mario is leaping through paintings into worlds of lava, ice, sentient ticking bombs. Criston is answering emails. Cregan is sprawled across a couch with his sunglasses on, presumably sound asleep. Jace is leering at you, dark hair hanging in his face and slurping a Vesper.

You ask him half-mocking: “What tattoo are you going to get for Reykjavik?”

He yanks off his sequined red blazer—nothing underneath, as usual—and twists around to show you the puffin on his left shoulder blade. Comet, at some point in time that preceded you, has already been to Iceland. “Cute, right? Wanna pet it?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry I asked.”

He grins. “No you’re not.”

Aegon kicks the back of Jace’s chair. He’s scribbling some notes of his own, which is unusual. In place of a spiral notebook with onyx pages, Aegon is writing on crinkled Starbucks receipts with a Sharpie. He’s wearing his favorite aviator sunglasses, khaki cargo pants, an excessively bright cyan tank top, and matching Crocs.

Baela stares blankly out the window for a few seconds—like she’s buffering, a lagging connection—and then she looks to you hopefully. “Shopping when we land?”

“Does Iceland have shops…?”

“Probably more than Kansas,” Aemond says, then smiles mischieviously.

“Missouri,” you fling back. He returns his attention to Luke.

“They totally have shops in Iceland,” Baela assures you.

“Then I am amenable. I need more concert outfits.” You mostly wear your boy band t-shirts from home, which has become a joke: One Direction, Backstreet Boys, New Kids On The Block, NSYNC, the Jonas Brothers, Boyz II Men, 98 Degrees, BTS…but never Comet Donati. Anyone but them. Aegon calls you a traitor. Aemond teases, smirks, tries to hide how much he watches you the same way people contemplate art on museum walls, a little confounded, a little entranced.

“Rhaena?” Baela says. “Hello? Hello? Hola? Bonjour? Rhaena?”

Rhaena startles, peering up from her novel: Jurassic Park. Once upon a time, as you’ve learned, she had planned to study paleontology. She wants to be alone in the middle of a field someplace digging up bones. Well, no great tragedy there; one is never too old to be a paleontologist. She can take off five years, or ten years, or twenty, or thirty to see Luke through his touring days and then pick back up her own ambitions like keys left on a hook. But Baela gave up a ballet scholarship to follow Jace across the globe, puddle to puddle, land to land, and in your albeit limited understanding, ballerinas age in something like dog years. Their career is a brilliant, lightning-brief flash and then long, anonymous decades running out their mortal clock as choreographers, backup dancers, personal trainers, instructors for blue-blooded five-year-olds. Baela won’t be able to reclaim that dream for much longer. It might be too late already. She is out of practice; but she misses ballet. When Jace is being snide or oblivious, you’ve seen her gazing out windows—Escalades, hotels, jets—wondering if it was all worth it. You gut yourself for someone and they don’t even have the courtesy to put up a gravestone. It’s only natural to develop a propensity to haunt.

“What?” Rhaena asks.

“Shopping. This afternoon. Interested?”

Rhaena’s eyes go wide. She fidgets: closing and then opening her book, touching a hand to her earrings, delicate strings of small silver hearts. “Um…I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Oh, not this again,” Baela groans.

“Just go without me. Bring me back something, you know what I like.”

“What’s the problem?” You are investigative but not accusatory. The tone is essential.

“She’s scared of store employees,” Baela says.

“Well you don’t have to make it sound like that—!”

“What’s so scary about store employees?” you ask Rhaena, calm, cool, collected, nonjudgmental. Aemond glances over, as he often does when you’re working, like he can’t get enough of watching that switch flip, when you slink covertly into therapist mode like a water moccasin weaves through swamps, subtle ripples in the muddied water and vigilant eyes.

“I just hate it when people are watching me,” Rhaena says, twirling an earring. “They’re always waiting right by the door—especially at the posh places like the ones Baela goes to—and they want to know what I’m shopping for, and they want to make suggestions, and they follow me to the fitting room and ask what I like and what I don’t. And I can’t get rid of them! Even if I’m like ‘Just looking, thanks!’ they’ll circle back every five minutes to check on me. I can’t stand it. I get so frazzled I can’t decide how I really feel about a skirt or dress or whatever because I’m too busy trying to make conversation with someone I don’t want to talk to anyway. I end up with a headache and a shopping bag full of regrets. I’d rather click a button on my MacBook Air and save myself the suffering.”

You nod sagely. “What is it about talking to the employees that stresses you out so much?”

“I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing. I don’t want to cause problems.”

“But it’s not like you’re going to do anything they haven’t experienced before. They see hundreds, maybe even thousands of customers a month. And even if you did something ridiculously, dementedly embarrassing, like…um…hey, Aegon, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done while clothes shopping?”

“I fell asleep in a fitting room. I pissed on the floor. I set something on fire. I vandalized One Direction merchandise.”

“No, there was that other time,” Daeron says. Mario is swimming through rings of underwater coins; they chime gleefully as he collects them.

“What other time?” Aegon says.

Daeron grins. “Come on. You know.”

Aegon remembers. “Oh yeah. Once I bit a girl’s feet until I accidentally ripped off part of a toenail and she bled everywhere. But that wasn’t my fault. She was begging for it. It was consensual.”

Criston, not looking away from his emails, says: “And that’s why Aegon is now banned from all Michael Kors locations for life.”

“Right.” You turn back to Rhaena. “So you would never do anything that deranged. But even if somehow you did, what’s the actual worst-case scenario? What, realistically, could happen as a result?”

Rhaena considers this. “The employees will think I’m weird, I guess.”

“So what you’re so concerned about is that the store employees—who are literally paid to be inconvenienced by you—might think you’re weird? Which they’ll remember for, what, maybe an hour before some other customer gives them a more memorable calamity to focus on? You don’t think they’re more annoyed by purse-dog-toting heiresses screeching at them or cokeheads pissing on their floors?”

“Rude,” Aegon says.

Rhaena smiles guiltily. “I mean, when you put it that way, it does sound stupid.”

“Not stupid,” you insist. “Just out of proportion.”

“Okay,” Rhaena says. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Okay. I guess I’ll go shopping.”

“Yes!” Baela cheers, already scrolling through Reykjavik shops on her iPhone.

“Hey, Stargirl,” Aegon says, and then hurls something at you like a frisbee. It’s an Amex Black Card.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s my budget?”

“No budget. As long as it’s slutty.”

“I will buy nothing but cardigans and mom jeans.” You crane your neck to peek at his receipts. The black Sharpie squiggles aren’t words; they’re shapes, pictures. “What are you drawing?”

“New merch designs!” Aegon holds up the receipts so you can see.

“Circles…?”

He is somewhat wounded. “Donuts!”

You don’t even know where to begin. “Why donuts, Aegon?”

“Because that’s his code word for doing lines in the bathroom,” Criston says.

“No!” Aegon objects. “Because Donati sounds like donuts! So we could have all these mini donuts, print them on hats or shirts or whatever, and then in the frosting where the sprinkles would be we can put tiny stars, suns, moons, planets, galaxies…and comets, obviously.”

Jace scoffs. “I think you spend a little too much time thinking about donuts.”

Aegon goes quiet. So does everyone else. Gazes flit nervously around the cabin. The only sounds are the roar of the jet and Mario 64, although Daeron has turned his back on the cheerful Italian protagonist and is looking pensively over his shoulder at Jace. Aegon resumes sketching his cosmic Sharpie donuts, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” you say to Jace, and then once you have his attention, wicked dark eyes: “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?”

“It’s a great idea. It’s a really adorable idea, actually. Let’s see you come up with something better. Go on, whenever you’re ready. I’m waiting. I’m still waiting. But you’re not much of an ideas guy, are you, Jace? Fortunately, you’ve always had other people around to pull that weight.”

Jace opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut as Cregan stands up. He towers over you both, as tall as Aemond but more muscly all over, in the chest and the shoulders and the legs. He lowers his sunglasses to show his eyes: greyish, cold, flinty. He glares at Jace, and then at you, and then at Jace again. Jace holds up both hands, showing his palms. You bow your head in capitulation. Cregan lies back down on the couch and repositions his sunglasses just as the pilot turns on the fasten seatbelts signs. As you click yours into place, you exchange a glance with Aemond across the aisle. He is smiling, foxlike and approving, as if he can’t wait to see what else you have left to show him.

“So!” Baela says. “Guess who found a shop in Reykjavik that sells Gucci!”

The jet glides through mist and fog to make a rather bumpy landing at Keflavik International Airport, fighting against gusts of wind coming in off the North Atlantic Ocean, the same water that swallowed the Titanic, the Faucett Peru Boeing 727, the Free Life hot air balloon, whaling vessels and Viking longships, countless cruisers and destroyers and submarines that blasted holes into each other during the world wars. As the band prepares to disembark, Aemond reaches into the front pocket of his shirt—black, with white circling koi fish—and slides out a pair of sunglasses. He doesn’t like wearing them. They limit his vision even more than it already is. But he never walks into an airport without sunglasses on, you’ve discovered. Just in case paparazzi are there snapping photos.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell Aemond.

He gestures to his scar and his blind eye, a pale cloudy blue. “I’ve thought about just getting it cut out. But then I’d have to worry about shoving in a fake one.”

“I think it’s kind of beautiful,” you say. “It reminds me of Neptune or something.”

And the look he gives you, the look, like he’s never heard anything like this before, like he didn’t know that words could fit together in that order. You hold out your hand to him. He lays the sunglasses in your palm. You put them on, grinning up at him.

“Now I’m the one who looks like a multi-millionaire popstar.”

“Hey, we match!” Aegon says as he follows you and Aemond out of the jet, massaging your shoulders and clopping noisily in his Crocs.

There are paparazzi at the airport, but only two of them, young men in black hoodies who dart around loosing flashes into the stuffy, aggressively heated air. Jace, Baela, Daeron, and Aegon beam and wave, radiant, magnetic, born celebrities. Rhaena smiles politely but hides behind Luke. Cregan saunters and smolders, knowing exactly what his devotees expect from him. Criston and the security guards are loaded up with suitcases like pack mules. The paparazzi don’t pay much attention to Aemond—a former heartthrob, a cracked relic, a fossil or a ruin—but one of them snaps a few pictures of him. Aemond turns his face so they’ll get his good side, his unmarred side…and then he grabs for your hand. You try not to reveal how ecstatic you are, how wildly, uncoolly, over-the-moon thrilled. Your expression might end up commemorated forever in a tabloid, after all.

Shopping in Reykjavik is mostly wool sweaters, hiking boots, and weather-proof jackets, but Baela leads you and Rhaena to a boutique that carries something more her speed: Gucci, Burberry, Balenciaga, Valentino, Saint Laurent. You and Baela try to distract the employees as much as possible; still, they find time to nettle Rhaena with those bothersome, predictable, unnecessary questions. She gets a little flustered, but she fights the instinct to run and hide, to allow herself to sink into a frenetic puddle of self-inquisition. You can almost see the words scrolling behind her dark gentle eyes like a news ticker: They get paid to help me. They aren’t going to remember any of this in a few hours. I’m not on a stage. I’m not being judged.

In the fitting room, you take two selfies to send to Aemond’s WhatsApp account: one in a flowing neon yellow gown, the other in a short, velvet, sparkly black dress embroidered with silver stars.

You ask: Day or night?

He answers before you’ve changed back into your jeans and pink Harry Styles hoodie. Night, obviously. And then he adds: Which constellation are you? Vulpecula the fox? Cygnus the swan?

“God, he’s such a dork,” you murmur to yourself, smiling. You have to think for a while before you reply. You don’t know many constellations; that makes it difficult to rattle off something witty. Then you are inspired. You type: Definitely not Virgo :)

He responds immediately: :)))))

“What does that mean?” you whisper to yourself in the solitude of the boxlike fitting room. “What the hell does that mean???” He spends nearly all of his time with you, but he rarely touches you. He’s never made a move. He’s never even kissed you. You wouldn’t mind if he did. No, fuck the coyness that women are supposed to cloak themselves in to preserve their worth. You’re waiting for him to kiss you like someone drowning waits for a gasp of air.

Despite Aemond’s vote, you can’t help yourself. You buy both dresses. You don’t look much like an Aegon Targaryen, but the cashier doesn’t seem too troubled by this. Baela and Rhaena are still trying on outfits, so you swing your bag around boredly and wander over to see what Criston is up to. At Aemond’s insistence, he accompanied you on this shopping expedition and left the rest of the security detail back at the Reykjavik EDITION, a luxury hotel overlooking the harbor. Criston is in the jewelry section and holding up a medallion necklace, rotating it to see how the light reflects off the speckling of tiny gemstones, the wise golden face. His own face is distant and melancholy.

“Oh, that’s lovely, Criston!” you say. “All those emeralds. Who’s pictured on it?”

“Saint Jude. Lost causes.”

Interesting. “Are you religious?”

“Not especially. But Alicent is.”

“Who…?”

Criston walks off to the cash register. You watch him go, curious and perplexed.

Back at the hotel, you enter your suite to find a blond Targaryen lounging in your bed…but perhaps not the right one. Aegon still has his Crocs on and is, for some reason, clutching a plushie puffin. He glances over at you, noting your shopping bag.

“Fashion show?” he says. “I hope it’s nothing but miniskirts and bikinis.”

“Don’t you have places to be? Substances to snort?”

“Cregan is currently trying to locate some.”

“That’s really not good for you. Physically or mentally. You might be addicted.”

He barks a laugh, like it’s absurd. “You can’t get addicted to coke, Stargirl.”

“You definitely can.”

He suddenly looks panicked, like he’s never considered this before.

“So.” You hesitate. “Aemond.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept.”

“He’s insecure. Very insecure, though he’s learned how to hide it.”

Aegon throws and catches the puffin, bouncing it off the ceiling. “I wouldn’t disagree.”

“It goes deeper than the accident, I think. The scar, his eye, what happened with the band…that awakened it again. That freed something that he’d had locked away. But where did it start?”

Aegon stares up at the ceiling. He tosses the puffin a few more times, abusing it terribly. “Whoever you are when you’re in high school…that’s sort of who you are forever, you know? If you’re popular and beloved and understood, you carry a certain self-confidence into the rest of your life with you like a suitcase. It’s an assumption that people care about what you have to say. It’s a conviction of your own value. It’s a presupposition the world would have to wrestle away from you. But if you’re a loser in high school, that stays with you too. And it’s one hell of a heavy suitcase to lug around.”

You try to imagine seeing Aemond through eyes that aren’t awed, craving, quietly adoring. It’s simply not possible. “He was alone?” you ask softly, dreading the answer.

“I had friends. He had grudges.” Aegon’s mouth twists as he tries to stop it from trembling. “My father…”

“I know, Aegon.” Your voice is gentle. “You told me in Kansas City, that night at the bar. You don’t have to say it again.”

He is relieved. “Yeah. So people respond to that in different ways, right? I lived in the present. I talked to anybody who would listen to me, and I partied and I got high and I got laid, and I was the antithesis of the kind of son my father would have wanted just to spite him. Aemond escaped into the past. He read books, traced bloodlines, collected old obsolete things. Maybe that gave him hope that a better place was waiting for him out there somewhere, a better time. He got to be cool for three years. That’s it, and that’s all he’ll ever have. He was the one with vision. He said he was going to audition for The X Factor, and I only went with him to meet girls. Then he made it through the first round and I did too. And when they were going to cut us, he found Jace and Luke and Cregan and convinced everyone to start performing together. The show wanted to replace Luke, did you know that? They thought he was too boyish, too innocent. Aemond fought for him. And then Comet finished in second place, and all the sudden we were signed to a label, and we were selling millions of records and we were touring, and we were winning Grammys, and we were buying our parents and siblings houses…and two months after our third album came out, Aemond was maimed at the Budokan and it was time for him to get off the ride.”

You stare at Aegon, tremendously sad, not knowing what to say. Sometimes the right words don’t exist.

Aegon smirks. “He really likes you.”

“Maybe.” And then, with guileless vulnerability: “I hope so.”

“That’s dangerous.”

Your brow knits into fearful grooves. “Why?”

“I know how to enjoy something without owning it. I don’t think Aemond does.”

You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “What was Shelby like?”

Aegon considers this for a long time before he answers. “She was simultaneously too good for him and not good enough.”

Too gorgeous. Too cool. Too Pinterest-board perfect, airy like summer. But not deep. A river, a glimmer, but with no understanding of the abyss. You aren’t sure how you know that this is what Aegon means, but you do. You don’t want to think about Shelby anymore. You pivot. “So Aemond is the past and you’re the present. Who’s the future? Daeron?”

Aegon smiles, lazy and warm. “I think you’re the future.”

“Yeah right. Get your Crocs off my bed.”

He complies, groaning, flopping onto the floor gracelessly.

“Where’d you get the puffin?”

“Some Icelandic kid recognized me in the elevator. He wanted to give me a present. In return, I signed an autograph and got him and his dad front row seats to the show tomorrow. So I’d say it was a very favorable exchange for him.”

“You’re a saint,” you say, and then find yourself thinking randomly of Saint Jude again. Lost causes. Lost causes.

Aegon grins at you as he crawls to his feet and makes for the door. “Patron saint of mayhem.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re watching old Comet Donati performances on YouTube when the hotel fire alarm goes off. And it’s strange, because the unscarred, clear-eyed boy on the screen is Aemond but also isn’t him; he smiles more easily, he looks at people without suspicion, he is ebullient and confident and carefree like kids blowing bubbles on front porches. When you open your suite door, dressed in your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants and an oversized New Kids On The Block t-shirt, Aemond is just arriving.

“Oh good,” he says. “You’re still awake.” And then he walks with you to the nearest stairwell.

Outside, the hotel guests are clustered together with their travel companions, shuddering under coats and sweaters and blankets clasped around their shoulders like capes. Even at the start of July, Iceland is cold: fifties during the day as Americans like you measure in Fahrenheit, forties at night, nearly always overcast. It’s 11 p.m., but the sun won’t set until midnight, and even then only for a few short hours; the sky is wearing the colors of dusk, lilac, rose pink, pale blue, fire and gold. You’re shivering, rubbing your bare forearms and feeling the goosebumps that have risen there like braille. Aemond tugs off his black and white Calvin Klein hoodie and offers it to you. As you pull it over your head, you breathe in the pieces of him that have snared in the fabric: smoke and cologne, gin and soap and the brine of the seaside air. Now wearing only his jeans and his koi fish shirt, Aemond lights a cigarette and gazes up at the hotel, postmodern angles and semi-transparent glass.

“No one’s going to give me a hoodie?” Aegon says, quaking in his cyan tank top. Criston reluctantly unzips his bomber jacket and hands it over.

“Did you do this?” Criston asks him, meaning the fire alarm.

“What?! No! No way, man! It wasn’t me!”

Criston turns to Cregan for confirmation. Cregan shrugs, ambiguous. “I knew it!” Criston exclaims. He is distraught.

Several fire engines arrive, red lights strobing, and firefighters enter the hotel to investigate. Baela and Jace are standing near each other but not speaking, arms crossed, faces tense. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron are watching an episode of The Crown on Luke’s iPhone. Cregan lights a cigarette and manages to take two drags before Criston notices and lunges to bat it out of his hand.

“Stop it!” Criston orders. “You’ll ruin your voice!” Nobody tells Aemond not to smoke. His voice doesn’t matter anymore.

Aegon asks you, his hands buried in the pockets of Criston’s jacket: “Would you run into a burning building to save me?”

“Why would you be in a burning building?”

“That’s really not the point.”

“I’d think about it.”

Luke says, the glow of his iPhone dancing across his face: “Wow, Prince Charles is a bitch.”

“You’d think about it?” Aegon says to you. “You’d think about it?!”

“You have no excuse to be in a burning building. You have now experienced an evacuation, you know exactly how to leave a building successfully, if you’re still in it for some reason then that’s your problem.”

“You hear that, Criston?” Aegon says. “This is a good thing. Now everyone knows what to do if there’s a real fire! And we’re in hotels all the time, so this is super helpful!”

“Please shut up,” Criston begs.

“Hey Cregan, share with the class, what did you learn about fire safety from this fortuitous occasion?”

“I already knew what to do.”

Aegon is grinning. “Yeah? What’s that, Cregan?”

“Get in the shower and wait for the fire department to come rescue me.”

Everyone laughs—even Jace and Baela—and Cregan’s lips quirk up in one corner, the only hint that he is joking. A parade of firefighters exit the hotel. One of them is carrying a toaster. Black smoke pours out of the slits in the top.

She says something in Icelandic that you can’t understand, then repeats in English: “Who was trying to cook hotdogs in a toaster?”

The guests chatter incredulously among themselves: Who would do such a thing?

You, Aemond, Luke, Rhaena, Daeron, Cregan, Jace, Baela, and Criston are mindful to look anywhere except at Aegon. You gaze out at the horizon, the kaleidoscopic midnight sun. Aegon peers down at his Crocs, hair tangled and blue eyes wide.

“Very well,” the firefighter with the toaster says, a little smugly. “We will consult with the hotel staff and see which guest was registered to that room.”

“Goddammit!” Criston hisses, and shoves by the band to go meet the firefighters. You can’t hear what’s being said, but his hands move in exaggerated gestures of humiliation, apology, restitution. Fortunately, the Icelandic people seem to be forgiving.

Daeron turns to Aegon. All he says is: “Why?”

“I couldn’t figure out the buttons on the stove!”

Criston comes trudging back to the band. Guests are being admitted into the hotel to return to their drinks, their television shows and mystery novels, their families, their lovers, their beds. “Alright, it’s taken care of. Go to your rooms. All of you, right now, go.”

No one has the heart to argue with him; he looks half-broken already. Everybody disperses. You and Aemond end up alone together as the elevator zooms to the fifth floor. He takes his small, square metal lighter out of his jeans pocket and toys with it, repeatedly flicking the lid open and then shutting it again.

You point to it. “Vintage lighter. Vintage bike. And yet you write with glittery gel pens instead of quills and ink. Poser.”

“I like old things,” he says, smiling. “I think history is important.”

And you hear Aegon’s words like an echo: That’s dangerous. You start pulling off Aemond’s hoodie to give it back to him.

“No,” he says, sounding pleased. “You keep it.” So you do, finding excuses to bring the sleeves close to your face—touching your hair, your lips, your eyelashes—so you can inhale him.

Aemond leaves you at the door of your suite, but you don’t go inside. You wait for another five minutes until Criston steps out of an elevator and into the hallway, alone and agitated. Still, he has concern to spare for you.

“You okay? Locked yourself out?”

“No. I was just hoping to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” Criston is tired, but his eyes, dark like fertile earth, are attentive.

“When Aemond was hurt…when the label yanked him out of Comet…no one fought for him?”

“Luke did,” Criston says.

And then he continues down the hall, shoulders low, a man troubled by both the past and the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Blue Lagoon is like Aemond’s sightless left eye: a milky blue, opaque, something you could drown in. The band spends several hours splashing and wading in water warmer than the blood in your veins. The white silica mud that forms the floor is soft beneath your bare feet, squishing between your toes; people spread it over their skin like a skin shedding its scales in reverse. Criston orders strawberry-banana smoothies from the in-water bar, trying to distract Aegon and Jace from the beer and the wine. Currently, Comet’s most worrisome performers are locked in combat: Daeron is on Aegon’s shoulders, Luke on Jace’s, entangled in a spirited chicken fight. This is much preferable to their first choice, Marco Polo, which led to Jace ‘accidentally’—and repeatedly—bumping into various early-twenties female tourists, whereupon he would inevitably profusely apologize, introduce himself, and pose for selfies, beads of turbid mineral water dripping from his curls. Cregan has drifted to the other side of the lagoon, floating on his back and basking beneath the overcast midday sun.

“I can’t believe they made everyone shower naked before getting in here,” Rhaena says, drinking her smoothie, submerged in rippling blue up to her collarbones. She had nearly refused to go through with it—I’ll wait in the car! I’ll be fine! I’ll just watch The Crown on my phone for three hours!—until you and Baela offered to hold up your towels to shield her from view and insisted that none of the other guests (all female, as the showers are sorted by gender) were paying attention. Nudity is not a big deal in Iceland. It’s quite a far cry from Missouri.

“You gotta honor the local culture, babe.” Baela flashes Rhaena a teasing grin. “Scandinavians are super progressive. No shame about bodies or relationships. Very sex-positive.”

“Well Jace is certainly blending in.”

Now Baela isn’t grinning anymore. She frowns broodingly out over the lagoon. Rhaena, regretting that she said it but knowing it can’t be taken back, noisily slurps at her smoothie even when it’s gone. You and Aemond exchange an uncomfortable glance. Baela has never broached the topic of her relationship with you, but you know it’s coming. You can sometimes see her working up the nerve like a bucket filling with water, drop by drop.

You change the subject. “See, Rhaena? The naked shower thing wasn’t even that bad. It was over in two minutes, and absolutely nobody was judging you. And if you hadn’t done it, you would have missed out on this amazing experience!”

“You weren’t nervous?” she asks you. “Not at all?”

“I little bit, yeah. Of course. I’m an American.” Everyone chuckles. “But logically, I knew no one would really be watching me. I’m not that interesting. And also…I wasn’t truly naked.”

“Huh…?”

You wiggle your eyebrows and, smiling radiantly, spin around and point to the black-ink tattoo between your shoulder blades, underscored by the straps of your swimsuit that cross just below it: a comet with a streaming tail, lyrics that Aemond dreamed up in a kinder world. Rhaena laughs.

“Oh, right, of course.”

“You are obsessed with that thing!” Baela says, but she sounds relatively happy again.

“It’s true. I am. I admit it.” Sometimes you find yourself staring at it in hotel bathroom mirrors still foggy with steam, wiping away condensation to marvel at the irrevocable ways in which Aemond has marked you, ways you are thankful cannot be erased. When you wear anything that reveals your upper back like a spilled secret, you often catch Aemond gazing at it too. Now he reaches over and skims a fingerprint along the circle that his lyrics form around the comet:

I’ll come back for you if it kills me

Comets clip by again after eons and so can I

There’s a jolt down your spine like lightning, but more eager than jarring. All other thoughts vanish from you. You look over at Aemond, and he looks back, his lips slightly parted, his right eye beckoning to you. And you know it will be good with him, if it happens, when it happens. It will be more than good. It will be laced with an intensity, with a dire breed of necessity that you’ve never tasted before. All at once, you and Aemond realize what you’ve done and drift away from each other again, weakening gravity, elliptical orbits.

“No shame, guys,” Baela quips, raising her smoothie glass in a toast. “Sex-positive, remember?”

After the 45-minute drive back to Reykjavik, and after the concert, the band coalesces in Jace’s suite. There aren’t many hangers-on for this stop of the tour; Reykjavik is isolated and peaceful and not particularly desirable for friends of convenience who are more interested in clubbing and drugs than camaraderie. You wouldn’t trade nights like this for anything in the world.

Aemond is reading off his latest notes, white ink on black paper, stars on the backdrop of the universe. A Benson & Hedges cigarette smolders between two fingers on his left hand. Smoke curls up around his face. “Aegon, you were three steps behind the choreography for basically the entire show.”

“Yeah, that was on purpose.”

“It wasn’t,” Aemond counters, but he can’t help but smile.

“Women love a tragic disaster of a man who is screaming to be fixed.”

“Daeron,” Aemond continues. “I really like that hair flip you’ve started doing…”

Aegon is knocking back dark glass bottles of Gædingur Stout and slurring, very drunk and sinking deeper by the minute. In the absence of coke, he has resorted to other crutches. You are squeezed between Aemond and Baela on one of the couches. And Aemond isn’t really touching you, but he also is: the delicious subtle pressure of his thigh against yours, occasional nudges of his elbow, ostensibly unintentional grazes of knuckles and palms. He’s drinking his usual, a Bramble, and so are you, swirls of slow-moving pink like drops of blood in open water. And you think in a hazy bliss like listening to ground-level conversations from the bottom of a swimming pool: Tonight, tonight, tonight, he’s going to come back to my room with me tonight.

“Oh great,” you mumble as you check your Facebook messages on your iPhone.

“What’s wrong?” Rhaena asks. She’s nestled against Luke on the opposite couch, twirling locks of his hair around her benign, delicate fingers. Jace is sitting beside Luke, drinking a Vesper and trying not to make eye contact with Baela. Daeron is in the fuzzy white sheepskin lounge chair, Cregan perched on a bar stool, Criston standing watchfully with a vivid green bottle of Perrier in one hand. When he briefly steps out onto the balcony to take a call from the label, you can hear only the most dim, indistinct murmurings through the thick tinted glass, sounds but not words. Aegon is sitting—and occasionally crawling around—on the floor. The Backstreet Boys’ I Want It That Way is playing.

“I’m subletting my apartment in Kansas City and there is a strict no pet policy. But my neighbors snitched on the new tenant and apparently she’s got a Flemish Giant rabbit living there with her.”

“Not even a normal rabbit,” Baela muses. “A giant rabbit.”

You sigh. “All the rugs are going to be chewed up by the time I get back.” And Aemond glances over anxiously, like he doesn’t want any reminders that you won’t always be around.

“What’s your apartment like?” he says.

“Old. Vintage. Most of it hasn’t been updated since the 1950s. You’d appreciate it, actually. It would match your aesthetic.”

“Maybe I’ll have to see it sometime.”

You smirk at him, flirtatious, baiting, the silver stars on your dress reflecting golden lamplight. “Maybe. If I invite you.”

He leans in to whisper so only you can hear: “You will.”

“I think I’d be a landlord if I wasn’t famous,” Jace says, nursing his Vesper meditatively like an aspiring philosopher. “I’d just sit back and collect the checks as they rolled in. And you get to raise the rent every year.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Aegon says, grinning up at him saccharinely.

“What would you be, Stargirl?” Jace asks; and you realize you hate the sound of him using Aegon’s name for you.

“I mean, a therapist.” And everyone laughs, even Criston.

Jace flushes, brushing his curls back from his face with one hand. “Oh yeah. Clearly.”

You look to Aemond. “You’d be a historian or an archivist or something.”

“Or a writer,” Luke says.

“Maybe,” Aemond agrees, a tad uncomfortable with the attention. “Or an animal activist, maybe. I’d like to do some sort of good in the world.”

Aegon shouts, far more loudly than necessary: “What would you be, Criston?”

“Thousands of miles away from you.” More laughter, riotous; but Criston is smiling a little.

“What about you, Cregan?” Jace asks. “What would you want to be if Comet didn’t exist?”

Cregan downs a shot of Absolut Vodka. “A plastic surgeon.”

“What? Why?”

Cregan shrugs. “You get to see tits all the time.”

There are scandalized squeals and guffaws. Baela says: “I would not let you anywhere near my tits.”

“And not just tits!” Daeron adds brightly. “Don’t they do, what’s it called, vaginal rejuvenation?”

Cregan points at him with his empty shot glass. “Exactly.”

“Oh God, that sounds painful.” Rhaena hides her face behind a flute of champagne.

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I’m interested.”

Aegon snorts, drips of Gaedingur Stout flying from his nose. “Like you’d ever need it. You’ve got a pornstar pussy, fucking gorgeous.”

A hush sweeps through the room like a dust storm. Baffled glances dart around wildly. Immediately, Aegon realizes his mistake. He gazes up at you from the floor with large, glazed, drunken blue eyes that glisten with apology. You gape back, half-furious and half-petrified.

“Wait, what?” Aemond says. Ashes build on his cigarette, forgotten.

“Oh, wow.” Jace gestures from you to Aegon. “You guys…you guys have…?”

“It was once, a long time ago,” you say quickly. “Like, a really long time ago. Over a year ago.”

Aegon is trying to help. “Ages ago. Ancient history.”

“Where? In Kansas City?!” Baela gasps, stunned.

Aegon tells her: “You remember that bar we all went to after the show, right? The one on the roof?”

Baela is blinking at you, not comprehending. “You hooked up with him? In a bar?! Aegon?!”

“Um, yeah.”

Jace brays out a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, Stargirl. I thought you had better taste than that.”

You feel like you’re fighting for your life. You feel like you can’t breathe. “It really wasn’t serious…” Not the sex part, anyway.

“No, no, it totally wasn’t,” Aegon agrees gamely. “It was like, what? How long were we in that bathroom? Maybe ten minutes total?”

Daeron is giggling. “Bruh, stop roasting yourself!”

As the chatter flies, you hide your face in your hands; beneath your palms, your cheeks are hot. You can feel Aemond pulling away from you, spaces opening up between your thighs and shoulders and arms like the ever-expanding void of the universe. When you steal a glimpse of him through the cracks in your fingers, he is staring down at the floor. He is silent, but you can see the thoughts—the images—riddling him like bullets. You can see him filling up with them like a punctured ship fills with seawater. He smokes until his cigarette is gone, and then immediately lights another.

Luke is the one to mercifully intercede. “Hey, Criston, where are we going next?”

“Uh,” Criston says, trying not to gawk at you or Aegon. “Let me think. Uh. Oh, right. Paris.”

Jace cackles. “The city of love! How appropriate!”

Criston ignores him. “You have some press interviews and then you’re doing two shows at the Accor Arena on July 7th and 8th…”

Aemond gulps down the rest of his Bramble and then walks out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs miserably, then guzzles his Gaedingur Stout.

You bolt off the couch and go after Aemond. The heavy sliding glass door growls as you roll it open and then shut it again. Outside, Reykjavik is cold and windswept. The midnight sun is aflame. It’s still too bright to see the Northern Lights; even if they were there, you would have no way of knowing. Aemond is smoking with his back to you. He’s looking out over the boats bobbing in the harbor, sunbeams glinting on the crests of waves. Flapping gulls swoop and scream.

You say cuttingly, like a surgeon slicing away malignancies: “So what, you don’t like me anymore?”

Aemond flicks ashes over the balcony railing. “I just think I understand you better.”

“What does that mean?”

He whirls to you and says pointedly: “Why are you here?”

A disorienting question. Too easy. “I followed you out onto the balcony.”

“No, here with the band, here in Reykjavik, why are you here?”

You know how the truth sounds, but you can’t rewrite it. “Because Aegon asked me to be.”

“Because he asked you to come fix me, right?” Aemond demands. “To crack open my skull and stir things around until I’m okay with the fact that my life ended seven months ago.”

“No!” you shout into the wind. “I mean, yes, he thought I’d be able to help you, to help Comet, but that’s not what this is about for me anymore—”

“Why would I believe you? You’re a liar, you’re a confirmed liar, why would I believe a single goddamn word of what you have to say?!”

“I didn’t lie to you!”

“Friends!” Aemond roars. He doesn’t touch you, but his rage is horrifying, ageless and deep like lava bubbling beneath tectonic plates. “You said you and Aegon were friends!”

“We are friends—”

“No, you’re not. You met him, you fucked him, and then when he invited you to join the tour you dropped everything to do it, why, because you still want him? And I’m the charity case? Or I was just next in line? Maybe you were planning to work your way through the whole band. Who’s next, Jace? I don’t think he’d object.”

“No—!”

“You and Aegon. And you didn’t even have the guts to tell me.”

“Because I didn’t want to have this conversation, the one where you eviscerate me for something that happened before I even met you!”

“You chose him,” Aemond says, venomous. “At the bar in Kansas City, you chose him.”

“What?! Aemond, I don’t even remember seeing you, I don’t think you were there at all—”

“I was there.” He glares at you, thunderstorms, tornadoes, the earth splitting in two. “Last June. Rooftop bar. String lights. View of the river. I remember it, I was there.”

“Well then you didn’t notice me either and you probably spent the whole night with Pilates princess, Malibu Barbie Shelby, so what’s the fucking point?!”

He glowers at the horizon. Iceland DOES have jewel tones, you think erratically. But they only come out at night, like owls or bats. “It’s different.”

“It’s not different! You’re so convinced people don’t like you that you do insane, irrational things that make people not like you! It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy! It’s a fucking circle, you idiot!”

“I’ve had enough psychoanalysis, thanks.”

“No, you could use some more of it, you could use a lot more, you have so many demons it’s like Paranormal Activity in your brain, they’re in there all day tearing things off the walls and kicking over chairs and sabotaging anything you dare to care about and you let them!”

He turns away from you. “Just go the fuck back to Kansas.”

“I’m from Missouri!”

Aemond pitches the end of his cigarette over the balcony. His good eye flicks to the sliding glass door. The curtains rustle as the faces that hovered there just seconds ago disappear back into the suite. Very muffled through the thick glass, you can hear Criston chastising people.

You ask Aemond, embers in your throat: “This is really something you consider unforgiveable?”

He shakes his head, mournful, violently disappointed. “You’re just a groupie. You’re just a slut.”

Slut. It’s not the word, it’s the way he said it, with dismissiveness, with condemnation, the same way men love to use it as a blade to carve off every other piece of you—kindness, coldness, ferocity, loyalty, wit, passion, talent, triumphs, failures, ghosts—until that one little word is all that’s left. You’re dismantled into a clutter of loose bolts and bent nails. You’re a beef cow that was led into the maze of a gnashing, metal-and-blood processing plant and came out the other side a brainless, raw-pink patty just the right size to fit in a Big Mac box, something to be consumed but not remembered. “What did you say to me?”

He’s staring out into the twilight sky, both hands on the balcony railing. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I…”

“Are you kidding me?! I can’t believe I got your lyrics tattooed on my fucking back, what am I supposed to do about that now, rip my own skin off?!”

“So get it covered up. I’m sure Aegon would be thrilled to help you choose a new design, or Jace, or Cregan, or Daeron, or whoever.”

“You know what I think?” you say, caustic like acid.

“Don’t say it,” he threatens, low and dark.

“I think you haven’t fucked anyone since the accident, and you’re terrified to. But you shouldn’t be, Aemond. Because there’s nothing wrong with you. There has never been anything wrong with you.”

But he doesn’t hear that part. He only hears the first thing, what you never should have said at all. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean you should have said it. “I hate you,” he says softly, and you can’t think of a reply. The space between you fills up with wind, cold, dying sunlight. Aemond looks at the sliding glass door. “I don’t want to go back in there.”

“Well, we’re five stories off the ground, so you’ll probably have to.”

He studies the series of balconies that run along this side of the hotel, each separated by perhaps three feet of open air. Then he starts climbing over the metal railing.

“Aemond, don’t!”

But it’s too late. Fortunately, he has long limbs. He scrambles onto the next balcony, and then the one after that, and then one more, until he reaches the balcony for his own suite. He tries the sliding glass door—locked—and then sits down to wait for someone to open it. You go back inside Jace’s suite, where everyone pretends to have been talking about something other than you.

“Where’s Aemond?” Criston says, alarmed.

“He’s on the balcony of his suite. You should go let him in.”

“What?!” Criston yells, and then sprints out into the hallway.

You flee too. Both Baela and Aegon try to stop you, try to talk to you. They’re asking what Aemond said. They’re asking if you’re okay. You tell them you’re fine and that you want to be left alone. They argue. You insist. You walk back to your own room and start packing.

Your suitcase fills up with crumpled clothes and souvenirs: a Colosseum pencil sharpener from Rome, a tiny alabaster Apollo from Athens, a Spanish fighting bull refrigerator magnet from Madrid, handmade soap from Porto, a bar of chocolate from Vienna, a moose snow globe from Stockholm, a silica mud mask from the Blue Lagoon, a tiny stuffed comet that Rhaena crocheted for you. You reach back to touch your fingertips to the comet tattooed over your spine, tears biting in your eyes. If I had told him from the start, would that have made a difference? If I had met him first, would we have had a chance? You are gathering up your makeup when you hear a knock on the doorframe.

Cregan lurks there. When he speaks, he sounds startled; he sounds afraid. “You can’t leave.”

“I’ve literally never had a conversation with you, so thanks for the input but I’m still going.”

“No,” he says, persistent. “You can’t leave.”

“Aemond doesn’t want me here.” Your voice is fragile, shattering. “I can’t help him anymore.”

“It’s not just about Aemond. It’s about everyone. They’re all fucked up. They all need you.”

You stare at Cregan, not understanding. “I really don’t think I’m equipped for this.”

He fixes his cool greyish eyes on you. He is harsh but somehow not unkind. “You would never be able to comprehend where I came from. I’m not going back to that. The band has given me everything. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from me. You have to stay. You have to fix Comet. You can’t leave.”

He watches you, and you watch him, and you aren’t sure who has the upper hand here, who is the predator and who is the prey. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe everyone is a patchwork of strengths and deficits, fields of gold strewn with landmines.

At last, you relent. And Cregan doesn’t vanish until you’ve begun taking your souvenirs out of your suitcase and placing each of them—carefully, reverently—back on your nightstand where they were before.

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