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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

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Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

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Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x y/n #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley #mw2 fanfic #mw2 fluff #simon ghost fluff #ghost fluff

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twsted-outro · 3 months ago

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LIFE

PAIRING: Yandere!Arlecchino x Female!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, murder, yandere themes, Arlecchino is heartless, she's an asshole ngl, not proofread i wrote this on mobile google docs, if you hate dying don't read this, I'm serious. written during 2023 (pre-fontaine and pre-release of arlecchino).

THERE IS fundamentally something about humans that makes their nature so fickle and insignificant. A human baby is born, destined to live life the way many others have done before; they live, perhaps fall in love, and die. It's a tale spun again and again, getting repetitive without any breaks. A cycle doomed until the end of time.

Hundreds, thousands, and millions of mortals have fallen victim to the inescapable loom of death.

But that's how humans are, they fulfil the purpose of living in their own ways. Some take up art, science, magic, or something as simple as farming. Through their small, limited time in Teyvat, there's a small percentage that create breakthroughs in their respective fields and are remembered for centuries to come. Immortalised, in a way, to history.

The world of Teyvat turns and time flows without pause, not giving a chance for anyone to catch up - leaves no room for those who regret and grieve.

Perhaps, in a few millennia, the world of Teyvat will cease to exist. The memories kept in pictures taken from a Kamera will be nothing but dust, statues honouring great heroes will be eroded, the lively lands will be barren and reeking of death, and the population will cease to exist - leaving behind nothing but loneliness. Nothing and no one to remember of what was the history that plagued the world.

Through that logic, in a way, life is meaningless. A nihilistic view, but one that stands true. All of the people are living for nothing - they laugh, cry, love, spend their wealth, pray to be blessed with visions, overcome hardship just to amount to absolutely nothing.

Life is nothing but one obstacle to another.

But perhaps, life can also be a blessing.

Because out of all the ages and time that scopes through space and history, out of all the reigns of Archons - by chance, out of pure luck and coincidence, Celestia blessed Arlecchino with the opportunity of you living in the same century as her.

Indeed, life is nothing but a hindrance and humans all live the same fate of dying, but there is still joy to be found - to experience.

And a miniscule amount of joy is more than enough to live through hell and back.

Arlecchino, a harbinger of the Fatui, does not believe in love. In her long life and the centuries she's lived, loving another has never crossed her mind. Even after meeting you under a streetlamp in Fontaine, what she feels for you can not be described as love.

Because she does not love, never has and never will.

Even now, laying in your apartelle's bed with and absentmindedly looking around your dim lit room, the word love doesn't suffice.

Both of your bodies are bare with only a measly blanket covering the lower half, her arm loosely wraps around your waist. The smell of sweat and bodily fluids linger in the air, a light reminder of what happened prior.

The world is quiet and it feels like all of Fontaine are asleep save for the two of you.

You're tracing shapes and words on her back, sweet words that bleed with affection falling from your lips seamlessly. You tell her you love her, repeatedly. You talk as if you can't live without her. You look at her adoringly and smitten, as if she's the one your world revolves around.

Briefly, you stop tracing on her back. "I love you," Then you smile, hand reaching out to tenderly hold hers. "So much."

She doesn't say it back, opting to stay quiet.

Briefly, your face falls at her lack of reciprocation but you smile once more, choosing to ignore what happened.

You aimlessly play with her hand, interlocking and separating your fingers from hers, then repeating. You press a kiss on the back of her hand, and profess again, "I love you."

"But I don't expect you to say it back, ever." You finish, a sense of melancholy coming over you. You stare into her eyes, searching for something - anything. "And I suppose that's okay. I'll still love you all the same."

"Nothing can ever stop me from loving you."

Arlecchino merely nods, and the conversation dies out into silence just like that. Soon enough, you succumb to slumber, your grip on her hand loosens and Arlecchino is left to simply staring at you.

When she knows there is nothing to lose, she risks it all and lets her fingers trace featherlight touches on your skin - each touch gentle and delicate, unbefitting for someone of her prestige. Unbefitting of someone such as Arlecchino.

It's bizarre - how Arlecchino wreaks havoc and leaves the battlefield with blood stained hands and for those same hands to touch another human being as if you're made from fine glass.

She sighs, light and airy.

Arlecchino knows.

She knows that you think she doesn't love you back - an unrequited love. She knows that you think she only sees you as a means to an end, a connection to get closer to obtaining the Hydro Archon's Gnosis. She knows that once her business is done in Fontaine, she'll have to leave you.

And when that happens, she'll leave you heartbroken and alone, heart shattered into a million smithereens. Perhaps her experience with you will scar your perception of love, or maybe not. But one thing she's sure of is that you'll find someone else down the line, and as fate has foretold, you'll fall in love and when you die, it's them in your heart - not her.

Arlecchino can't have that. She loathes the idea of someone else replacing her standing in your life, as selfish as it may be.

No, Arlecchino does not believe in love, what she feels for you isn't love. It's something far, far greater.

Her feelings transcend what it means to be human, for no sane person in love would do what she's about to do.

Inside a room in an Apartelle in Fontaine, Arlecchino rises up from the covers of your bed, still naked, and retrieves her items.

She comes back with the distinct sound of metal dragging across the ground, her sword, and you're still sleeping with lovely dreams plaguing your little mind.

You're peacefully asleep, that's good.

When she raises the sword, the metal glinting against the moonlight menacingly, you're still asleep.

When Arlecchino, a cold blooded killer, ends your life - it's peaceful. There is no struggle, your eyes are closed so there's no betrayal to be found in them. Your breathing cuts off like plucking out a fruit from a tree, and you're stuck in an eternal dream - never to wake up again.

She snuffs out the blessing given to her by Celestia like it's nothing.

Arlecchino can't love you, she doesn't love you. It's much more than love, it's the carnal want for you to the point she'd rather be the one to end your life than watch you fall in love with someone else. A truly maddening mindset to possess.

Selfish, unfair, cold-hearted Arlecchino.

Perhaps, had the circumstances been different, she'd be able to 'love' you in her own way. Had the circumstances been different, she'd say 'I love you' back.

Life is meaningless, even more so without you.

Life is meaningless and the world will end.

But, should there be an afterlife, a possibility of reincarnation, Arlecchino hopes to spend it with you once more.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #arlecchino x reader #tw death #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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rebelliousmuse · 5 months ago

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Crimson Mark – C.S.

Warning: spanking, unprotected p in v (wear condoms please).

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Chris delivers a series of swift, stinging slaps to your ass, each one making your skin flush and tingle. In between the spanks, he grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his other hand trailing up your spine to tug your hair, forcing your face into the cushions.

“Count them, brat. And remember, these are just warm-ups.” He growls, his palm cracking against your flesh again and again.

“By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to sit right for a week.” His voice is rough with lust and dominance as he continues his punishing spanks.

“Aaa 1...2...3” My body trembles as each impact sends a wave of agony and ecstasy through me. Involuntary moans erupt from my throat. Chris listens to your soft cries, each number punctuated by another smack to your ass. His cock throbs with need, precum leaking from the tip.

“Good girl. Keep counting.” He encourages, delivering another sharp slap that makes your whole body jerk. “I want you to remember every single spank. Every single bruise. Because you deserve every damn one.” He bites out, his hand moving faster now, his strokes growing more forceful.

"4... 5... 6... 7..." Each number a gasp between impacts. My voice challenged, "Is that all you've got? How disappointing, you’re so weak."

The challenge in your voice only fuels Chris's desire further. He lets out a deep, throaty laugh, his hand slowing for a moment before delivering two rapid-fire smacks in quick succession. “Weak?” He scoffs, resuming his assault on your ass with renewed vigor, making your pussy clench as you keep counting.

With each spank, Chris's handprint grows larger on your ass. He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear as he delivers another punishing slap. “That's it. Let everyone know who owns this ass.” He growls as you whimper, his voice laced with pride and possessiveness. “13, 14, 15...” He counts along with you, his hand moving with relentless precision, determined to mark every inch of your ass with his ownership.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling as tears prick my eyes. Despite your whispered plea, Chris doesn't slow down. Instead, he presses harder, smacking your ass even more forcefully than before. “What do you want, brat?” He taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me exactly what you want. Beg for it.” He demands, waiting for you to break under his dominance.

“Please, fuck me” I beg softly. At your begging, Chris grins wickedly, his hand still raining down on your ass with unrelenting force. “Not good enough.” He sneers, delivering another stinging slap. “Beg properly. Show some respect.” His voice is low and commanding, each word punctuated by another smack to your burning flesh.

“Please Chris, please fuck me, I need you” I plead louder this time. Even though your pleas are getting more desperate, Chris refuses to relent. He smacks your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “No, baby. That's not how you ask for it.” He scolds, his voice thick with lust and power. “Say it like you mean it. Like your life depends on it.” His hand lands on your ass once more, the smack reverberating through your entire body.

“Chris... please... I really need you, please, please, please.” My body shaking uncontrollably as tears stream down my face. Each 'please' that falls from your lips sends a jolt of pleasure straight to Chriss's cock. But he's far from satisfied. He smirks, his hand landing on your ass with a resounding crack. “Still not convincing enough.” He mutters, his tone mocking. “Say it like you're dying for it. Say it like your very existence hinges on my cock inside you.” His hand pauses for a moment, only to land another punishing spank on your tender flesh. A sharp cry escapes my lips as his relentless actions continue.

Your cries only spur Chriss on, his hand rising and falling with ruthless efficiency. The sound of his palm connecting with your ass fills the room, mingling with your whimpers and sobs. “Keep crying, baby. It only turns me on more.” He growls, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “Now, let's see if you can do better than that pathetic begging.” Another loud smack echoes through the room, followed by a long, agonizing pause. “Beg me to fuck you like your life depends on it. Like you'd rather die than not have my cock inside you.” His words hang in the air, heavy with demand, as he waits for your response.

“PLEASE, DADDY, PLEASE FUCK ME, I REALLY NEED TO HAVE YOU IN ME, I CRAVE YOUR DICK ABUSING MY INSIDES, PLEASE, I'M BEGGIN YOU, I'LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE, PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE DADDY, PLEASE, MAKE ME FEEL GOOD, DADDY PLEASE”

Chris watches intently as your desperate pleas pour out, his expression darkening with satisfaction at the sheer level of submission in your words. When you finally collapse into a whimpering mess, he allows himself a moment to revel in victory. “Pathetic.” He spits out, his voice tinged with disdain. “But... effective.” A sly grin spreads across his face as he steps back, admiring the ruined state of your ass.

“Show me just how much you need my cock.” Without waiting for a response, he grabs the base of his shaft and strokes it a few times, the sight of precum beading at the tip making your mouth water in anticipation.

He grunts, pushing forward until just the head of his cock breaches your tight folds. “Feel that?” He asks, his voice rough with arousal. “That's the tip of my dick claiming you as mine.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulls back slightly before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt within your welcoming depths.

Chris's breath hitches at the sound of your whimper, a primal satisfaction washing over him as he feels your walls clench around his invading length. He leans forward, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move, setting a relentless pace designed to drive you to the brink of madness. “That's it.” He encourages, his voice thick with lust. “Let Daddy hear those sweet little sounds.” His thrusts become more forceful, each movement designed to stretch you wider, to fill you completely. “You were made for my cock, weren't you?” He taunts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, ensuring you feel every inch of him.

I nod frantically as I whimper “Y-y-yes, d-daddy... th-thank y-you for f-f-fucking me” desperately. Chris's eyes flash with dark triumph at your desperate plea, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising as he continues to pound into you with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your high-pitched whimpers and cries of ecstasy. “You're welcome, baby.” He snarls, his voice dripping with dominance. “This is what you've been craving, isn't it?” His thrusts grow even more brutal, each one designed to push you closer to the edge. “To be filled, used, and owned by me.” He emphasizes his point by grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your overstimulated body. “Come for me, slut.” With those words, you feel yourself explode against his length.

The sensation of your squirting gushing onto his thighs only fuels Chris's desire, driving him closer to his own explosive climax. His thrusts become erratic as he chases after the intense pleasure radiating from your quivering core. “That's it, baby.” He growls, his voice strained with effort. “Squirt all over Daddy's cock.” Each word is punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your already overwhelmed senses. “Fuck, you're so fucking tight.” He curses, his control slipping as he nears his peak. “You're gonna make me cum inside you, aren't you?”

I nod frantically “C-cum in me, please”. The pleading tone of your voice combined with the visual spectacle of your squirting and begging pushes Chris over the edge. With a guttural moan, he gives in to his basest instincts, his cock throbbing as he releases his hot seed deep inside your spasming walls. “Fuck!” He exclaims, his entire body tensing as he rides out his orgasm, filling you to the brim with his potent cum. “You're such a good girl, taking all of Daddy's cum.” His praise comes out in short pants, his grip on your hips loosening ever so slightly as he finally allows himself to relax into the aftershocks of his release.

As your body sags against the mattress, Chris gently withdraws from your spent pussy, his cock glistening with your mixed juices. He moves to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms for a gentle yet possessive embrace. “That was amazing, baby.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close. “Rest now, love.” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

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bluewhitehues · 6 months ago

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"An I love you card."

(Yes another HUG series drabble, sue me for missing them. They are my home😭)

Idol Kim Mingyu× F.reader

Genre/tags :fluff,comfort,Established relationship.

Summary: Reader just misses her lover so much. + mingyu buys an apartment so that he can finally ask you to live together with him.

(My brain isn't functioning a lot lately so idk about the summary,just read the fic you will understand, ok bye cuties🏃‍♀️‍➡️😭)

Masterlist

You: Lover...I'm breaking up with you if you don't come and give me my hugs till tonight.

Gyu❤️: Baby hello to you too and wtf you scared the shit out of me why'd you start your text like that😭..I'm coming okay wait for me

You: you better if you want me in your life👍🏻

Gyu❤️: stop scaring me ...don't you love me anymore? 🥺🥺

You: WHY ELSE DO YOU THINK IM DYING TO SEE YOU IF I DIDN'T LOVE YOU

Gyu❤️: OKAY OKAY MY BAD BABY I GOT IT IM COMING I MISS YOU SO MUCH TOO

You: yeah and on a serious note love I'm not trying to make you feel bad about this I understand that you have work ..it's just I want to see you and hold you ..I miss you 🥺🤐

Gyu❤️: I Know love I know ..do you need something to eat should I get you something?

You: You.. I'm gonna eat your cheeks and lips off

Gyu❤️: oh god babe you've lost it ..is this what the lack of me does to you?

You: It does..it's a serious issue you dont understand

Gyu❤️: okay sweets gotta go I'll be there till 9-10pm may be ..rest till then ok?bye love you mwahhhh

You: yes can't wait to see you love you too❤️

Currently it's 5PM of your day off and you're about to cry because you miss your lover. Honestly it hasn't been that long since you met him. You saw each other nearly 24 hours back. But those meetings has been like just some fleeting moments. And you can't help but miss him from deep within. Your week has been exhausting too and he cures literally everything for you.

It's still 4-5 hours till you can see him. You're not even sleepy anymore you already took a nap. So you just decide to do some self care. You put a sheet mask on your face. (And make a silly face with a pout for the selfie and send it to mingyu. Like Ofcourse.) You even do your nails. Then you get a silly idea to make a greeting card for him with a letter may be. You excitedly take a white paper and few colours, pencils,pens everything.

You draw a cute panda holding a heart. And write 'An I love you card' below it.

And put a cute letter inside it.

After that you eat dinner and wait for him.

You hear the keys rustling and know it's him. You've already done a lot of waiting so you go almost running to the door, your heart beating fast. He comes inside locking the door, when he turns around you're there already running to him, crashing into his arms. He let's out a surprised chuckle wrapping his arms around you.

"Hey there, looks like you missed me a little too much huh" He said closing his eyes feeling you in his arms, your warmth invading his chest and to whole body and his to yours. That's the most beautiful feeling and the very reason why you crave it so much.

You hum in the hug, clutching him tightly.

"I did and I'm not going to let you go now."

Then you look up and he sees your face and eyes, it looks like you're about to cry. Eyes teary while looking up at him and a small pout. He coos at you, instantly holding your face in his hands. "Aww my baby, what happened I'm here now aren't I hmm" He says wiping the corners of your eyes.

You lean into his touch. "I don't know..you made me cry." You pout harder and he leans down to peck your pout. Once, twice. "Don't say that.. what did I do?" He asks pouting back.

You look everywhere moving your eyes as if thinking of something to say. "You were just saying anything,weren't you?" He giggles now that he has figured you out. Squishing your face in adoration. His eyes crinkling as he smiles wide.

You nod,letting out a laugh. "Yeah you know me."

"Mhm thought so." He says then picking you up. He walks to the couch in living room,flopping down on it with you in his lap.

"You sure everything's ok baby?" He asks kissing your head.

"Yeah just...missed you so much." You whisper in his neck,where your face is buried. He rubs your back soothingly. You pull back from the hug to look at him.

"Did you eat?" You ask tracing his face with your fingers. "Mhm I did with the guys." He says sighing into your touch. Placing his forehead on your shoulder. You caress his hair, hugging him tighter and kissing his temple, then ear and then neck. He tilts his head towards your neck and places sweet pecks on your neck too. You pull back making him look up at you, you put your forehead on his saying "kiss me."

And he smiles, complying to you without wasting a single second. He kisses you and you feel home again. He squeezes you to himself hugging you tighter so you know he missed you just as much. You share a few sweet kisses and then pull back.

"You know how bored I was ...I spent the whole day alone." You tell him.

"I wish I had a day off too baby, I'd have loved to spend my whole day with you." He says pouting a little, tucking your hair strand behind your ear.

"It's okay you're here now" You say giving him a smile and a peck at his nose. He scrunches it cutely with a chuckle.

" Oh wait !! I've something for you." You say suddenly remembering something. Your eyes a little wide with excitement. You get up so fast from his lap. You pick up the card from table and hand it over to him.

He takes it, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion but a smile on his face.

"An I love you card" He reads and looks up to you with a bright smile. "Oh my god babe you're so fucking cuteeee ahh" he says laughing while pulling you closer by your waist,so you're standing in front of him.

"You've to open it " You let out a giggle urging him to open it.

'There are so many shitty people in the world but I Met you..I have you..how did I get you? You're so lovable you know? And I love you for who you are. So kind,loving,caring. You keep calling me angel but you are the real angel. Thank you for coming into my life. I love you so much. I'm writing this because you need to know this and also because I fucking miss you right now. Ok bye don't make fun of me after this.' ~only yours,y/n.

You see all of his expressions with each word,with each line he reads, he melts a little more. h

He tries to control his smile. He looks up at you with tearful eyes. Grabbing your hand he pulls you closer. "How are you so cute baby." He sighs caressing your hands, "How did you get me you say..?.. But how did I get you?" "You're so precious you know that ? It's not even my birthday or anything special, it's just a random day and you're here making me feel so loved." He's looking up at you with so much love in his eyes with a sweet grin on his face, which you love so much.

You chuckle combing your fingers through his slightly long hair. "Baby, it's just me saying I love you in a silly way,it's nothing special.it's just a card."

"Well it is special to me." He says pulling you on his lap again. "And I'm going to cherish it forever, I'll keep it safe with me...thank you." "And I love you too by the way." He says grinning wide,giving you a peck on the lips.

"And I was going to do something special to tell you this or may be I should have asked you before doing this but.." He sighs.." I don't know I just love you so much and I want you to know, I want you with me always. So.." He takes a breath to prepare himself. He fishes out keys from his pocket. "I've been carrying these around since a week." He chuckles nervously, while your heart is beating fast.

"I know I should have probably asked you before doing this, but I just ..I wanted to do it for us ...so ..I bought an apartment for us . It's registered under both of our names."

You gasp "gyuu-" your eyes wide.

"I-I know baby ..it's a big step but ...will you move in with me baby?" He asks finally. "You know that I want a future with you right? For me You're my one and only." He says clutching your hands in his.

You finally let out a sob mixed with a watery laugh. Nodding furiously you say "You're my one and only too gyu. Shit I didn't know you'd do something like this ..but I've thought about this almost daily, when I want you to hold me to sleep. When I want to see you as soon as I open my eyes in the morning. Fuck you don't know how much I miss you when we can't meet or whenever I have to sleep alone." You sniffle and he's wiping your tears, nodding along with whatever you're saying.

"It's a little scary but I trust you with my whole life, so yes I'd very much love to move in with you."

His puppy eyes slowly get bigger in size as he gets happy "Really? Oh my god...I love youuu" He says getting up with you, spinning you.

"Oh my god you're going to make us fall..slow down." You laugh as his giggles fill the room. He stops putting you down on the ground.

"Is tomorrow ok with you? I want to show you the place first then we can decide the rest." He asks. "Yes." You say becoming a blushing mess making him coo at you.

a/n: idk if this is any good but i wrote this in June, finally finished it. Also im sorry for making you wait for 'I hate you not' series.it's also halfway done but it'll take a lot of time for me to actually post it. I'm more into reading than writing these days so please feel free to suggest me some good fics. Thank you for reading this. Hope y'all are having a nice day 🥹🫶

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen mingyu #mingyu×reader #kimmingyuff #kimmingyu #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeenimagines #svt fluff #fanfic #svt kim mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut

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isavulpix · 1 month ago

Text

Christmas at The Harper's

Roy Harper x Fem!Reader, Lian Harper

I havent write a fanfic in so long that I'm super nervous about this. It was supposed to be a Jason Toddx reader, but then Roy happened. I hope yall enjoy it and Happy Christmas!

Warning: I haven't read a dc comic, so Roy may be OOC. All my knowledge on him comes from other fanfics and google. My first language isn't english so there will be errors.

isavulpix masterlist

It was a weird and peaceful day in Gotham. The snow had fallen the night before, so you could hear the laughs and joyful screams of the older kids playing outside. It was a week before Christmas and Lian was in her Bluey PJs on the couch eating the remains of the gingerbread house she had made the day before with her father. The local Gotham channel was doing a Christmas movie marathon, right now The Grinch was. Her father had left early in the morning, so it was just you two in the apartment.

Lian groaned when a commercial break popped, but before she could change for Netflix, the commercial got her attention. It was about a family giving each other gifts and it confused her. Wasn’t that Santa’s job? She stood from the couch and quickly put on her bunny sleepers to run toward her father's room knowing you were there organizing the drawer you shared with Roy. You always got annoyed with her dad for not folding the clothes.

“Why did those people give gifts to each other? Does Santa not visit them?” Lian looks up at you, her eyes wondering about the commercial. You stopped what you were doing and panicked internally, how did you explain to Lian without accidentally ruining it? Damn, Roy for not being here because of late toy shopping. You turned to Lian and cursed when you saw the look on her face, for a 5-year-old she was very persistent.

“Well…um…Santa does visit them; it is just that they love each other so much that they decide to also give a gift to each other. Like we do in birthdays…” You hoped that the last-minute explanation was enough for her curiosity because you certainly didn’t have anything else. Lian looks at you and blinks three times before nodding, you let out a breath and relax.

“Did you get something for Daddy?” Lian balanced her weight from side to side.

“Well yeah?” You hope she doesn’t catch the uncertainty in your tone, was your explanation a good one? You hope Roy doesn’t get mad, but you're shaken from your thoughts when you see Lian eyes getting watery. Shit, you totally fuck up.

“Wait wait” You squat to her level; you were certain that you ruined something because of your explanation. “Why are you crying, sweetie?” You run the conversation in your head to see if you accidentally said something stupid or insinuated that Santa wasn’t real, really wishing it wasn’t the last one. You didn’t want to be responsible for dying the magic of Santa for her.

“I haven’t bought a gift for Daddy” You can barely understand what she says because of her crying and you mentally high-five yourself, Santa is still alive. Now you need to fix the new problem.

“Oh, that’s fine sweetie. We can give Daddy what I got him.” Your fingers clean her running tears, you pout a little as she keeps crying.

“No, you said they gifted each other because they love each other so I need to give Daddy something” Lian lips wobble as she rubs her eyes.

“You don’t have to per se....and I promise Daddy won't be mad about it, but if you still want to gift Daddy something what about those cards you make? He is always so happy when you give him one” Your reassurance helps, and Lian stops crying and plays with her fingers. You could eat her chubby cheeks with how adorable she is.

“Daddy really likes them?” Your heart almost bursts at how cute she looks.

“Your daddy loves them, especially when is a drawing of you two.” You smile at her and Lian smiles back. Damn, you're good at this. “We can even buy some of your Daddy's favorite chocolate to accompany your card.” Lian nods and runs to her room determined to make the best Christmas card ever made, and you punch the air. A crisis is avoided like a pro, you deserve some hot chocolate.

As the days passed the air got colder and the streets that didn’t have that much snow were now completely covered with the white fluffiness. You had spent the week of Christmas in Roy and Lian apartment. Both of them insist every night for you to stay the night. You turned in your sleep, your unconscious body seeking the nearest heat supply. It was Roy's body that was much hotter than yours, he was on the other side of the bed sleeping when your cold feet and hands woke him up.

He mumbles incoherent words as he tries to move away from the cold, his movement wakes you up making you pout. How dare he move away from you? So, when his back faces you, you interlock your legs with him and move a hand to his torso making him grumble.

“How are you so damn cold? The heater is on” He turns to face you knowing you weren’t going to let him be.

“The heater isn't enough; I need your body heat” Roy chuckles and kisses your forehead. He could feel you move your cold limbs in his clothes, but he doesn’t dare move. Roy moves you to be even closer to him and rubs your back. He closes his eyes and thinks about how grateful he is for having you in his life, he didn’t know what would have been of Lian and him if you weren’t in the picture. He always thought and said you were too good for him. He prayed that he could make you even happier than what you made him be and give you everything you deserved.

“You know, it's weird that Lian hasn’t come in to wake us up to go open gifts” You mumble against Roy's chest, loving how affectioned he was being this morning. Sadly, your words make Roy remember the last Christmas fiasco. Lian had silently opened most of her gifts and he missed taking pictures of it. Roy quickly untangles from you, skips to the living room, and sighs when the gifts are untouched under the tree.

You follow him at a slower pace and look at him confused, but even weirder is the toddler sitting on the couch waiting patiently while watching Frozen. Aren't kids supposed to be hyper at Christmas? “Good morning, Lian” I hug her, and kiss her forehead, and she smiles repeating my words with more excitement for her dad and you.

“Did you peek at what Santa got you?” Roy had an eyebrow raised; he couldn’t believe his kid waited for them to wake up, not when she knew that more than half of the presents were for her.

“I didn’t, Daddy!” Lian smiles at her father, which makes him more suspicious. Before he can ask more, she runs to the tree and returns with a small gift bag. “I got you a gift, Daddy!” You get your phone and start recording the moment between father and daughter.

Roy Harper's heart almost failed at that moment. Lian excitement wasn’t all about the presents Santa got her. Half of her excitement was to finally give him the gift she had made days ago. “You did?” He takes the gift, but first pepper kisses Lian face.

“Daddy! Stop” Lian giggles and tries to escape the kisses attack. “And I did!” Lian smiles even more. “(Y/N) said that besides Santa, you can also give gifts to the people you love. She also got you something but open mine first!”

Roy smiles and pulls Lian onto his lap and pats the space beside him. You take the sign and sit down making sure to capture both of them. Inside the bag, there was Roy's favorite candy like you promised to Lian, plus the card. The card was made with white paper, one side there was a drawing of three stick people that resembled you three. The stick people were around a big three and Santa was stuck in the chimney, this made Roy and you laugh. When he looked at the other side of the card, a tear almost escaped. With big chunky writing, it said “Appy Crismas to the dest daddy!” and a lot of hearts.

Roy pulled Lian again into a tight hug. “This is the best gift I have ever gotten, pipsqueak. Thank you so much.” He kisses the side of her forehead, and Lian, satisfied with her work being done runs to open her gifts. Roy takes the moment to pull you into his arms.

“Happy Christmas, Roy” You hug him as you two watch Lian open her gifts and act surprised.

“Happy Christmas, (Y/N) …and thanks.” He mumbles the last part as he hugs you tighter, only catching it because of the closeness.

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stubz · 4 months ago

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"Remember to check with a teacher or one of the gardeners before eating what you pick from the gardens." calls out teacher Max.

The youngling centre was on a field trip visiting the ships indoor public garden that grows both flowers and vegetables from a variety of different planets. Younglings took joy in sharing and showing their friends vegetables and plants from their own respective planet. Even the teachers, Max and Kim, were happy to tell them about earth's plants.

"Wow, what's that Emira?"

"It's a glass flower!" she chirps holding up a beautiful flower with the petals and stem translucent. "They're my favorite flower!"

"So pretty! Can you...eat it!" the human grins.

"No!" the avian giggles. "You can't eat it! But my Maemae says you can use the roots for tea that helps tummy aches."

"I'll have to remember that." he nods, wearing an utmost serious and thoughtful face. The nearby gardeners chuckle.

"You should!"

"I shall-!"

"TEACHER MAAAX!!"

All heads whip to the south of the garden. At the very end of it is Ezshi screaming and waving their little tail and arms frantically. Beside them is Pollix, Zyz, and Tarlak huddling around a Kim kneeling on the ground grabbing her throat.

"Mr Max you stay h-" the gardeners watched as the human sprinted as fast he could to the other side of the gardens. Seconds later the younglings followed suit with Emira leading them, flapping her little wings as fast as she can.

"KIM! KIM WHAT'S WRONG?!" he skids to a stop beside her grabbing her shoulders to examine her.

The human shakes her head, face red, opens her mouth to speak only to go into a coughing fit. Her right hand at her throat, her left pounding her chest.

"What happened?? Did you eat something?? Kids what did she eat?!" later he'll apologize for shouting but right now he can't help it. Right now he's going through every lesson he's had about what to do when one eats something harmful/unknown to their species.

"I-I don't know! Tarlak gave it to her!" Zyz cries, tears streaming down their little snout.

"Tarlak, buddy, what did you give her??" the little Simia's lips quiver as he stares at the still hacking Kim.

"Tarlak, focus. What did you give her? What planet plot was it from?" Max grabs his shoulders, making him look solely at him and not Kim.

"...earth...it-it was from earth. This." he hands over a half eaten white plant bulb.

"...Kim's fine kids." he sighs flopping over onto the dirt. The adrenaline immediately leaving his body.

"What! What is it?!" they all cry.

"It's garlic."

For a moment there is silence save for some sighs of relief from the human children. And then.

"GET THE RED BAG!"

"CALL THE GARDENERS!"

"SHE'S GONNA DIEEE!"

All the younglings scream and wail. Most like Emira, however, simply cling to the human silently crying.

"...what?! Kids! She's not dying."

" 'm not...dying." Kim rasps, finally done coughing.

"Garlic is poison! It's how my Maemae's uncle died!" Emira wails.

"I heard one garlic clove can kill a hundred rextalians!" Ezshi frets.

"What are you talking abo...oooh. Thiosulfate."

"Thio-whatnow?" Kim coughs, spitting out a piece of garlic she frees from her cheek.

"Reason why most animals can't eat garlic and onions. Including most other non-earth species."

"...Oooh! Okay learning time! Listen up kids. Humans can eat garlic! Got it? Humans can eat garlic and other foods like garlic, our body breaks it down and stuff."

"But you choked and your face turned red!"

"Because the taste is very strong. It's like lemons. Basically I took a giant bite out of a lemon."

"...Ooooh!" cries out the younglings now understanding that their teacher is not dying.

"Wait why did you take a giant bite out of garlic?" laughs Max.

"I didn't know if was garlic or an onion and Tarlak's dad uses onions for to make a bug repellent...don't judge me I've never seen garlic in that shape before!"

"Why didn't you ask a gardener?"

"They're all the way on the other side of the field! Just-shush!"

"I'm never letting you live this down. Now help me stop the human kids from doing some kind of garlic challenge. I see Anthony and Piper eyeing them."

#So we have a vegetable garden and the kids were picking veggies #and I know nothing can hurt them and no one has any allergies but just in case of like rotting or bugs i tell them to show me first #before they eat it. one of them hands me a white bulb asking what it is. can't tell if its onion or garlic so i cut it and still can't tell #its just one big piece so i bite into it #raw garlic assaults my tongue like nobodies business #go into a coughing fit spat it out and chugged water #kids thought i was dying #then a kid throw the rest of it in his mouth while im still chugging water and he goes through the same thing #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre

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some-stars · 2 months ago

Note

logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--"

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad.

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be.

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

#deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #origins poolverine #wanksgiving 2024 #smubbles #listen. i kept it under 2k. for me that's deserving of the -bble suffix

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cherryredstars · 9 months ago

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Hi Cherry!! I love love loovveee your work and I was wondering if you could do another punk!reader x miguel one shot? I never really see any punk type readers and I would just love to have a reader that looks scary and punk/alternative ya know? Stuff like piercings, colored hair maybe, just stuff like that.

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU!!!!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gnPunk!reader

Warnings: Piercings, Fluff

A/N: Hi, love!! I hope you enjoy!!

Unedited

More Punk!reader

You can sense him laughing at you.

You squint your eyes open, relieving them from their scrunched up state. Miguel's lips are thinned as he tries to contain his laughter, the hold he has on your hand loose. You glare at him, and his eyes twinkle at you as you lay on the piercing table. You are so going to twist his nuts after this is over.

"This isn't funny." You hiss at him, turning your head away to not look at your body piercer as they prepare their equipment.

Miguel finally lets his chuckle out, rubbing his thumb soothingly against the back of your hand.

"It's just..." He starts off, a smile breaking on his face. "I've never seen you so scared before."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Just because I'm scary, doesn't mean I don't get nervous every now and then."

Miguel's smile softens as he shakes his head, squeezing your hand tight. "I know. But I would think you would be used to this by now since you have so many piercings already."

Your mouth puckers to the side, humming in reluctant understanding and turning towards him slightly. "Yeah, but they still hurt."

Miguel hums back, smiling again when you freeze up as your piercer turns to you. You look at Miguel with wide eyes for a second before they turn back into glares.

"You better not let go of my hand Miguel O'Hara, or else I will make you cry like you've never cried before." You threaten.

Miguel nods obediently, tightening his hold on your hand as you move to lay straight and close your eyes. Your piercer chuckles at the banter, pressing down on the area that you want pierced to make sure there aren't any irregularities since the last time they checked a few minutes ago. Miguel sees the uneven rise and fall of your chest as you wait in anticipation, eyes scrunched tight.

"Promise, I'll even kiss it better when we're done." He reassures you.

You both silently agree to ignore the fact your voice was slightly pitchy the entire time you threatened him.

------------------------------------------

"Does it really take that long to read instructions?"

You're growing impatient, sitting crossed legged on a chair in the kitchen. You're wearing your go-to hair dying shirt, unwashable bleach stains and hair coloring marking the area around the collar and shoulders. All of the necessary tools to redye your hair sit on the counter closest to the two of you. Miguel is wearing the included gloves in the hair box kit you picked up from the store, the material straining as they're just able to fit his large hands. In his gloved hands are the hair dye box and the large pamphlet of instructions. By now, you would already have half of your head done, but Miguel insisted on helping you since he did promise at the bar that one night.

He's ready both the instructions on the box and in the pamphlet three times. In both English and Spanish. You cross your arms as you raise your brow at him, glaring at him.

"I've done this millions of times already, Miguel. But those fucking things down. I'll walk you through it." You groan.

Miguel ignored you, eyes squinting as he holds the paper closer to his face as he rereads. He's even got his fucking glasses out.

"Yeah, but I've never done this before. I don't want to damage your hair or something." Miguel argues as he flips the paper over to read the back, eyes skimming the paper in confusion until he realizes he's actually reading French.

"I don't know if you can tell but," You pause picking at a lock of your split-ended hair. "My hair's already fucked up. You literally can't fuck it up any more than it already is."

Miguel sighs as he puts the directions and paper back on the counter, finally beginning to mix the products together in the bowl included. He shakes his head as he does so, walking over to you so you can see if he's mixing it right. You smile at the sight of his concentrated face, tilting your head up when he's built up the courage to start applying it to your hair. You shiver slightly at the initial coldness, closing your eyes so it doesn't get into your eyes. Miguel is gentle as he applies the product and parts your hair to make sure it's spread evenly. Every now and then he stops to ask you for advice when he gets to a tricky patch of hair or is confused on how to part something.

But eventually, talking double the time it would if you did it yourself, Miguel steps away from you. Your eyes open slowly, seeing the look of pride on his face as he examines his work. You smile at the sight, reminding him to set a timer so you know when to wash your hair. While you wait, you help him clean up, making sure to look in the mirror to see if Miguel missed anywhere beforehand.

When you do wash your hair, the results turn out amazing. The color is vibrant and just how you imagined, and Miguel fawns over how amazing the new color looks on you. He even offers to take pictures of you for your Instagram, and you smile as you pull him into the frame, snapping a picture of you with your newly dyed hair and Miguel's excited face resting on your shoulder. When your friends and family start commenting and asking about who your new hairdresser was, you can't help but laugh.

Sorry, they're only reserved for me.

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pumpkinbxtch · 11 months ago

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Greetings again, since you replied that you write for Lester I wanted to give you my request, without obligation or rush obviously. I had thought of a one-shot set during The Trials of Apollo where reader knows about Lester's crush on Reyna and is extremely jealous about it, so much so that when he is rejected, reader doesn't even want to give him a little support. With a happy ending because I don't need my depression at my door! Thanks again for your availability and I apologize for the inconvenience and misunderstandings since English is not my language. ☀️

“hope python eats you” ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— apollo x fem!reader

summary: do you like Apollo. does he like you? uhmm no. he likes Reyna and you're dying of jealousy. but perhaps the situation is not so hopeless. warning: swear words. a/n: heeyyyy, here you haveeeee. i'm hopin' that you like this. Reyna and Apollo's scene is one of my favorites, it makes me laugh how she reject him. haha, poor baby. Thank you for trusting me 💙 - Kisses from saturn, maría

Why did you have to get along so well with Reyna?

You took a sip of your apple juice and caught Apollo looking at her; those little glances, the nervous giggles and the babbling when he was around her.

You shifted in your seat, snorting and letting out small curses. Why did you have to fall in love with him? It was literally the worst.

Inside your thoughts you heard a gasp and felt water splashing right into your face. You looked ahead, disoriented. Apollo had red cheeks and stammered apologies.

— dork! — Meg shouted at him, hitting the guy on the shoulder. She looked at you and you rolled your eyes. It was like the third time Apollo ended up spilling his food just because Reyna caught him watching, always ended up all over you or Meg.

Cherry soda dripped from your chin.

He looked at you worried, more for his personal good because of what you could do to him.

— Sorry!

You lifted slightly from your seat and grabbed napkins to dry yourself.

— You are an idiot. I don't know why I don't help Python eat you.— You touched your cheeks.

— Hey!

Meg let out a laugh, making you break your scowl. How horrible love was.

—Gods, why me?! — Meg shouted, cutting her underbrush with her scimitar. You watched her out of the corner of your eye while you took stones and threw them with force. One of them with such force that it was buried in the surface of a fruit.

You wished that were the face of Apollo

— You wish it were Apollo's face.

You laughed and nudged Meg, clearly playing.

— Meg, kill me. I hate that I like your brother.

Meg shook her head and continued digging with the tips of her swords. You climbed a few more meters and the antenna was already visible.

— I don't understand how you like him.

You let out a whimper.

A laugh echoed and both of you turned around.

—They're having a good time— You murmured, trying to escalate further. You tilted your head, trying to listen better. —Is that laugh from Reyna?

Meg narrowed her eyes at the sound and nodded. —yep.

Practically, after almost dying and hanging from high altitudes, you were able to eat in the comfort of the camp. But to be honest, your hands were still shaking.

You didn't know if it was because you had witnessed the death of another god or because you couldn't believe that Apollo had proposed to Reyna and that she had, in fact, rejected him.

Maybe it was the second.

The moans echoed around the table again.

— I'm an idiot.

Meg looked at you out of the corner of her eye. Your look was gone and half of your food was cold.

Maybe you were overwhelmed by everything, actually.

Another squeal from Apollo made you clench your fork.

— SHUT UP!

You screamed and threw the metal cutlery at him, making him scream.

—You should hug me and cry with me.

You snorted.

— Never, I don't know why you told Reyna your feelings like that!

—And how was I supposed to do it?

— You are the god of poetry, shouldn't you already know that? You are a fake.

Apollo let out an indignant groan. He looked to Meg for support, but she agreed with you by nodding and extending her palm towards you.

— she has a point. Hmmm — and she went back to devouring her salad.

You went to sleep, and the first to fall like a log was Meg. You kept trying to shrink and squeeze your eyes until they finally stuck together, and slept, but you couldn't.

Stayed quiet and played with the seams of the mat you were resting on. You felt overstimulated, very restless and miserable. Almost as always, but this time it was for love.

Meg's soft snores made you smile.

The three had been through a lot up to that point. You had gotten used to it and feared what would happen next. You couldn't hide what you were feeling anymore, it was unfair to your sleep cycle.

Apollo could be unbearable, but he had a good heart. He learned consideration and to value effort. You had become hooked on that part of him and ended up falling in love.

You pressed the seams of the pillow together and let out a sigh.

— You don't sleep, either?

His voice behind you made your heart race. You cursed in your mind. The least you wanted was to talk to him.

— I was about to — You mumbled, a certain meanness could be heard in your voice. Apollo laughed softly, it almost seemed like he was humming a song.

— Sorry.

You adjusted the sheet.

— Alright.

—I'm sorry for spitting soda so many times in your face.— You struggled and wanted to prevent your heart from feeling anything because of his clumsy way of apologizing. But it was not like that.

—It's okay, Apollo. No hard feelings.

—Have I done something to make you upset with me all the time?

The question was suspended, and your hands began to sweat.

— What are you talking about? — You were thankful that you still turned your back on him. Any trace of drowsiness was left behind.

— I know I'm clumsy and very new to being mortal, but I've learned a lot. Partly thanks to you.—He paused and tapped your shoulder. You were a fool for him, so you turned around, coming face to face with him.

His blue eyes shone in the moonlight. He was funny, he looked beautiful underneath the opposite side of him.

Artemis might have gagged if she'd heard you say that.

His curls made like a second pillow for him, and you thought that was cute.

— Really? — Your voice barely came out in a thread.

Apollo nodded and gave you a sweet, slightly lazy smile. He pulled his hand out from under his blanket and caressed the frame of your face. The contact made you shudder, but you didn't move away.

You longed for his touch and be the reason for him to spit juice in others' faces.

You imitated his action. arms were crossed, while carefully caressed each other. Taking care of yourselves.

Apollo's heart warmed, and he felt a tug in his stomach.

Maybe you could have a chance, and that night had begun.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x reader #apollo x y/n #apollo x you #apollo #apollo x reader #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #lester papadopoulos x you

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ma1dita · 4 months ago

Text

ready your position

part 1 of 5 - SET IT UP!

spencer reid x gn!HRT!reader

summary: [3x9: Penelope] Sometimes second chances feel like shots in the dark. You just really wanted a cup of coffee. (set between seasons 3 & 4, loosely based off of set it up on netflix--reader is nicknamed ripley)

wc: 6k

content warning: signs of substance abuse, reader gets shot, side character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms & thinking

a/n: so sorry for the delay! i had a lot of insecurities about putting this out but well, here it is! lots of plot set up but pt 2 won’t take as long haha, please please please leave feedback or i might cry lol

—

[NOVEMBER 2007]

"So what are you in for today?"

A scoff leaves your lips in the dim light of one of the HR offices in the Employee Assistance Unit on the 6th floor of Quantico on a dreary Monday evening and it's intentionally disruptive, like you want the terse breath to catch your therapist off-guard. This routine of yours has you feeling like you're being examined under a magnifying glass but after countless hours of your ass getting pins and needles on the worn leather loveseat, you're still not entirely sure what else there is for Ms. Stevens to discover. Every psychological stone is never left unturned with her, but some burdens you still hold close to your heart. They feel like boulders that you choose to carry, and no one can take them away, lest you leave yourself exposed and vulnerable in front of a woman who can read you to filth.

"Agent?"

"Come on now, we're past the formalities, Miss. S'been more than half a year of us meeting like this. Think I deserve a reward at this point," the joke chokes itself out past your chewed bottom lip. Eyes scanning the ceiling, you mentally count the tiles until you can find a plausible enough answer to the question she's positively dying to ask about the monumental blow-up that could make or break your career, and maybe if you skate by with something noncommittal she'll let you out of here early. 30 salt and pepper sprinkled ceiling tiles, just like this time last week.

"Ripley, then," Ms. Stevens murmurs over a sip of her tea. The smell of ginger pierces your senses even from your spot against the wall. Your eyes meet over her FBI standard-issue mug and she's waiting for you to fill the silence and confirm her thoughts. You hate this game; being hyper-analyzed by the way you lean against the chair, or the tapping of your fingers on your thigh.

Every move means something. Being a member of the FBI's Hostage and Rescue Team meant that you've been hardwired to always find a way out of any space you're put into, and somehow the job has translated into your day-to-day coping mechanisms as your eyes flicker towards the door.

Coping. Right. That's what you're supposed to be doing.

Sometimes you forget the reason why you're here every week— but no matter how painful or teeth-grating these appointments feel, they're the only constant you have right now. And they're mandatory, or else there's no going back to normal; any more time sitting at a desk makes you more anxious even if it's what's been prescribed by professionals like the one sitting across from you.

"You already know why I'm here. I know the big boss man already told you, and if not—office gossip spreads here like wildfire," you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Ms. Stevens takes note of that and writes something down in her notepad. "It's not what you think."

"You shot an unsub point blank and cost the FBI $4000 in damages."

Chuckling lowly, you run your hand through your hair, "Sheesh. You'd think for glass that expensive it'd be bulletproof, huh?" She's not laughing though, instead scribbling down more words and you think she's signing away your rights to rejoin your team. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal— you were just at the right place at the right time, and although you haven't been in rotation since your mandatory leave and the higher-ups put authorization holds to stop you from being on operations, that didn't mean you were just sitting around doing nothing. You still knew how to do your job, whether Ms. Stevens believed it or not. The shot you took made the weekly newsletter. Agent Fuchs and his family sent you a fruit basket this morning. Agents Hotchner and Rossi know your name now, for better or for worse.

It was a bit of an odd way to end the weekend.

If anything, it was proof that you were ready to get back in action. But the subtle frown on her face says otherwise, and you swallow harshly, a lump in your throat feeling heavy like the truth— Ms. Stevens probably won't let this one go.

You realize she's staring at you for a better answer now as your eyes refocus on her fingers tapping on her desk. Nodding your head, it prompts her to ask the question that she's been holding back since you sat down. One could almost feel bad for the amount of paperwork that probably goes into your weekly sessions.

Almost.

"How did you find yourself involved with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Ripley?" she emphasizes, finally getting to the point. Sucking air through your teeth, you tuck your legs underneath your bottom on the uncomfortable seat. This is going to take a while to explain.

"I just wanted a cup of coffee, man."

—

A WEEK AGO

No one can deny that Dr. Spencer Reid's best asset is his brain.

He knows it too— the fact is one of the few things he's sure about himself. Other people are much easier to figure out to be honest; case details scrolling through his brain like a frenzied catalog and each input has an output, each symptom with a diagnosis, and so on. The neocortex of the brain has about 300 million pattern recognizers that crave data able to turn into patterns or rules, and Spencer is used to staying late after cases conclude to write down all of the reasons why. Something about unraveling the unsub's methodology in case files is just as exciting to him as when he's in the field figuring out the why—mind the fact that he can read 20,000 words a minute.

In his periphery, he can see the rest of the team settling into their desk chairs, but he's traipsed straight over to the office kitchenette for something to fuel his brain to be able to mince through the stack of paperwork on his desk. He's ignoring the fact that Emily slips a few more onto his pile, but what he can't ignore as he stands over the counter stirring in way more sugar into his cup than there is coffee, is you, walking through the glass doors virtually undetected by anyone but him.

The metal of his teaspoon clinks against his mug, and a side glance at your form reveals a lot to him— but not quite as much as he would like to know about a person at first glance. Stiffness in your posture indicates some sort of military background, there's a slight tremor in your hands as you reach for the mug on the top shelf—probably attributed to nerves? Most likely since he's never seen you on this floor before. You blink slower than average, and Spencer thinks it's a sign of exhaustion which checks out since you're blatantly stealing coffee from the BAU.

Sending a soft smile his way, Spencer quickly eases up and nods at you, sipping his coffee as he watches you move about the small space. Okay, stealing is a vast over-exaggeration, but in an office filled with FBI agents, it's a wonder that he's the only one noticing these types of things. He's also staring at you very intently, which might affect things.

That or the caffeine's already hit him like a punch in the face.

You're pouring some of Penelope's homemade oat milk creamer and he observes the way you play with a fray on your knit sweater. There's something that clinks in your jean pocket and it's too small to be a gun, too big to be—oh! You're saying something to him.

"You mind?"

Spencer clears his throat, ripping his eyes away from your crotch as a blush rises upon his cheeks—shaking his head anyway until he realizes that you've taken the spoon out of his hand to swirl into your own mug, sipping at it and frowning.

"You're not from this floor," he states, and it's not a question because it's rare to have people break patterns around here at the BAU and you're far too comfortable to be a civilian but still on edge enough for him to think you must be an agent. Humming, he notes the furrow in your brow as you grab the sugar canister from in front of him, stirring in your preferred amount and tasting it, then adding more again, "Yeah?"

"There are 12 desks in here; 2 executive offices not including our section chief's, liaison's, and higher admin surrounding the bullpen, plus 6 members of custodial staff and the auxiliary agents that run in from different departments—I would know a face like yours," he blurts, blinking when you grin at how that sounds. Dismissing his blunder, you lean back against the counter and chuckle, "You're protective of your turf. I get it. That's good. I'm just here for a cup of coffee. Smelled the good stuff wafting through the glass doors," Handing him back the spoon, he can't help but stand there and hold it out like an idiot as you continue, "You want my credentials or something…. Doctor?"

"No, not at—" "Ah, perfect!"

Rossi grabs the mug out of your hand and takes a big swig as he looks at something on his phone distractedly, "Anderson was supposed to have a cup ready for me as soon as we got back… Why is this uh….watery?"

"Oat milk, sir," you say, taking it in stride as the older man crinkles his nose, mumbling his thanks, walking back to his office. Your eyes meet Spencer's with an amused expression and he sighs. The watch on your wrist beeps and you give him a two-fingered salute as you make your way out of the glass doors behind you eastbound; his gaze doesn't break until you're out of sight.

A hand claps him on the shoulder and it's Morgan with that look he gets when he sees the resident pretty boy with a person of interest (also known as when Spencer is caught talking to anyone, ever), "Now who…" he chuckles, squeezing him so hard that his drink spills a little bit, "was that?"

Spencer blinks, pouring more sugar into his mug and stirring it with the spoon, "Definitely not a secretary like Rossi thinks…." He takes a sip before realizing he's made a mistake. Besides the fact the mug he drank from is contaminated now, he's forgotten to ask for your name.

"At least that's what I'm trying to figure out."

—

It has been exactly 8 and a half months since you've been an active operator for the HRT's Red team. 37 weeks of trying to come to terms that Special Agent Charlie Young is dead. 258 days since your childhood best friend Harper was made a widow and her baby left without a father. And no matter what way you put it, it was your fault. Or at least no matter what everyone's been trying to tell you, it still felt that way since he took a bullet that was meant for you.

You spent your 6 months of paid mandatory leave in the confines of your apartment nursing bottles of Jameson, watching old telenovelas, and avoiding phone calls from anyone who would try to reach out. But in the space that Charlie's absence left behind is the reality that everything in life keeps moving on whether you like it or not. You caught yourself craving your old routine to prove to yourself that nothing's changed; that you're still capable of being the elite agent that worked your way onto this prestigious team in the first place.

So as you lie in wait in an unmarked car outside of 107 Leavensworth, you plan to do just that—follow through with the mission, this second chance—and prove that nothing can shake you. The next operations cycle starts soon and you have to make this count. Your eyes lock with Agent Morgan's as he crosses the road arm in arm with Penelope. Nodding at him, you slink further into your seat. There's a long night ahead, but hopefully, the only thing that will be bothering you tonight is your thoughts.

When they pass the courtyard, your eyes flicker back towards the empty street, checking every which way for possible suspects. It's quiet, and the air is a bit chilly, the wind sweeping through the street like a frosty vacuum. Your phone buzzes with another text from Harper, a voicemail from your mother, and unread emails.

[From Harpy: Have an extra table setting out for Thanksgiving. Your two favorite girls would love to see you if you can make it! Miss you Rip.]

[Missed call from Mama: Hi honey, I know you're probably busy but I'm worried about if you're eating enough. You're overw—]

The sounds of footfalls on pavement draw your attention away from the voicemail as a man comes near, swiftly passing the direction of your car with the purpose of walking into the apartment courtyard. You slide out with ease, throwing your phone to the passenger seat before making your presence known to him, "Can I help you with something? What’s your bus—"

BANG!

Gunshots are so much louder when you're the one being shot at.

You swear you feel your heart stop beating as your body hits the ground, ears ringing from the shock that ravages your being and you just…lay there in the smoke of his revolver. The spinning view you have of the stars is interrupted by the sound of Derek Morgan's voice yelling into your walkie, "WE HAVE A FEDERAL AGENT DOWN, I REPE—"

You swallow hard, fingers sliding over the breastplate of your bulletproof vest and feeling the gaping hole left behind.

Fuck, can't even die right.

Pushing yourself up and feeling nothing but the gravel in your palms, you wheeze, "He's getting away…Two blocks northbound. GO!" The man tweaks his head at you before springing into action, "I got her, GO!" And then his body moves as fast as you suppose that bullet did— surging towards the assailant's direction as you clear your throat and dust yourself off and look up at Penelope's window, her beaded curtains shuffling against the glass.

"Disregard. 10-78, Agent Morgan is pursuing, I have eyes on the vic…"

Rushing up the stairs, there's a tremor in your hand that slides along the banister. You need to push through the shock before the adrenaline wears off, but the faster you fly up the circular staircase, the memories hit you like a tidal wave. The sound of Charlie singing to his baby girl, Harper's smile when you first introduced them at the Academy a few years ago. Lactic acid builds up in your calves and your chest feels tight—your joints feel stiff as you stumble through the door blowing air out in puffs like someone does when they get burned. In the dark of the apartment, moonlight shrouds you like a spotlight and the singing and the laughter turn into blood and tears.

You'll never forget the way Harper looked at you in that hospital waiting room. It should've been you. Weaving through the fallen furniture, your eyes scan the perimeter for any movement; she was last near the window, and then where did she go? It should've been you. Turning the corner towards the alcove of her bedroom, Penelope Garcia's scream pierces through the darkness, and a gun is pointed towards your chest for the second time tonight as you stumble back, bumping a sparkly cat statue off her side table. It should have been you.

"Don't s-shoot!" you stutter, hands in the air and now the colorful woman is sobbing into your arms, blubbering, "Why is this happening to me?"

"I don't know…" you sigh, asking yourself the same question and holding her up—at least her hug is tight enough that it squeezes the truth out of you. You don't want to die.

But why didn't you?

Your second chance at fixing things was looking more and more like a second shot in the dark.

—

By the time Spencer and the rest of the team show up, he's pleasantly surprised to see you making coffee in Garcia's kitchen. You're a shadowy figure against her counter, sipping honey tea from a TARDIS mug and minding your business. The BAU has staged themselves across every open seat in her living room, almost looking like a part of the bits and bobs that occupy the space—different personalities contributing to help out one of their own.

Hotch looks at you, introducing you to them and Spencer holds back a smile when your eyes meet again. It's awkward, like when the teacher introduces a new student to the class. You shuffle your feet towards the group, nodding and biting your lip when you hear your name, "Call me Ripley. S'easier that way. I'm on loan from HRT."

"Glad you were available. The rest of your team was deployed," his boss says, and there's something in your expression that signals to Spencer that you're upset about that fact. Maybe it's the way your hands graze over your abdomen repeatedly, like checking for a wound or the way your eyes are consistently downcast. Even after your empty mug is placed onto a sage green doily, he watches you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest as if blocking yourself off from the group.

"It was a favor from Otis. My night was going to look like this or catching up on Days of Our Lives, so… Anyway, you guys are held in high regard in our area. For good reason."

"And so are you," Hotch actually smiles, soft enough like a father softens a blow, "Head back to the office and I'll tell Agent Otis that you did a great job."

"Um…Ripley can stay. We're friends now," the bubbly analyst says as she pushes her glasses up and grabs your arm.

"I don't want to intrude on your process—" "You won't be intruding at all," Spencer interrupts, "In fact, you might be more of an asset in helping us figure this out."

The pieces fall together as you watch the BAU work together like different organs that make up the same body, each with its own function and essential to their success. You take a seat next to him on the sofa, your eyes ricocheting off of the person who speaks like ping-pong balls and he knows it's overwhelming to some, but it works.

"I told you I'm tired of this jag-off getting ahead of us," Rossi grits as he walks out of the apartment after grilling Garcia. There's an awkward silence once the team splits off and you don't move from your spot after the door closes, "He always like that? Looks friendlier in his author's headshot." Emily chuckles, hair brushing Garcia's shoulder as she leans over her laptop, and Morgan is pacing across the hardwood floors, fingers touching every little trinket to distract himself while his Babygirl works her magic.

"He's newer to the idea of a team."

Spencer has a heart-shaped throw pillow on his lap and he absent-mindedly plays with the sequins. He watches you chew on your lip before nodding, "Can imagine what that change feels like. Never easy. You guys are something else though—my Reds could never…get together like this."

"Isn't that the whole premise of the Hostage and Rescue Team? To be part of something?" The raven-haired woman pipes up, looking curiously at you.

"Well, really it's to s—"

"Servare vitas—that's Latin for the HRT's motto 'to save lives'," Spencer hums, and you nod. There's a distant look in your eyes as you look off towards the window before speaking, "We just follow orders, I guess. In and out. It's funny how we're called operators when in reality we're the ones being ordered around." Your voice is wistful, going hoarse and you clear your throat.

"Anyways, didn't Agent Rossi have three wives or something? Maybe he just needs to focus on finding a fourth."

The subject change lifts the tension that fills the room, everyone having a bit of a laugh at that. Morgan admires a blown glass ornament from Garcia's mantle before he moves his gaze to you, "He got it wrong three times, you think he'll find someone to lock it down for a fourth?"

"Actually, did you know that studies have found that the rate of divorce in the US is about 35% to 50% for first-time marriages and over 60% to 70% for second, third, or fourth marriages and beyond?"

No one moves a muscle at the statistic that spews out of his mouth like something from a well-oiled machine and you turn to him, full attention and tucking your legs underneath you with eyes full of wonder. He doesn't remember the last time someone's ever looked at him with anything other than mild unease.

"Really?"

"Really," he continues, "so even if you knew someone who could…" "Match his freak?" You suggest, interrupting him this time, and your choice of words makes Garcia giggle over the chatter of her keyboard, "I knew you were a cool cat."

He doesn't quite know what to say to that, always fumbling for words in front of attractive people, making Morgan send him a sidelong glance. Spencer goes back to playing with the sequined pillow instead.

"I got someone like that too. Hard to prove yourself when they don't give you a chance. It's like credentials, seniority, all that training goes out the window when I'm in front of them."

"Your boss?" Spencer mumbles, and you shrug, "Something like that." You sound like you don't want to share more, so he nods, saving your words for him to scroll through in his mind later, "He's definitely not Gideon."

'Who's Gideon?" You ask, finishing off your cup of tea and leaning against the back of the sofa. It's comfy enough that all of your limbs sink in slightly, and he watches your eyes flutter with fatigue. Spencer tries not to get distracted by the way your eyes sparkle in the twinkly lights that hang from the walls of Garcia's apartment.

"He was…before. Before Rossi. Taught me everything I know."

"Must've been a good guy then, if you're this good at your job," you smile. It's the same smile you sent his way in the office kitchenette, soft yet like a shockwave, and he thinks that even without his eidetic memory, he'd remember your words forever.

"Mhm…" you muse, putting the cover of the TARDIS mug back where it belongs and standing up, "I should get back to the office. It was nice meeting you all, despite the circumstances." You nod at them, passing Garcia and patting her head before humming a tune on your way out.

"Ripley's kinda great, huh?"

Spencer nods, a small smile gracing his features. When he looks up, Garcia's staring right at him. Only the two of them recognize the Doctor Who theme song, after all.

—

You desperately need a drink.

You're sitting on Anderson's desk staring at the mess you've made of the BAU's bullpen, shattered glass sparkling like little fractals of light on the floor beneath your feet and this night just got longer. By the time they process your gun and get your official statement it'll be sunrise, you think. You can't look at the body even after they cover it with a tarp, the rest of the team tiptoeing through the debris in the entryway. This one's gonna be tough to explain to your superiors.

"Ripley!"

Penelope Garcia is rushing over to you and hanging off your side in a second, making the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach go away for a moment with her eyes shining like tinsel on Christmas morning and the guilt feels a bit lighter. You did a good thing. Then why…why won't your hands stop shaking?

"I never wanted you to do something like that for me," she starts, rubbing your arms and looking up into your eyes, "Do you hear me? Ripley."

You didn't even blink when you shot him, and you don't know if anyone would consider that the best or worst part of it all. Shrugging and placing your cheek against the hand that remains on your shoulder, you purse your lips, "I hear ya. I'll be okay now that you're gonna be okay," You sniff, blinking slowly as you watch your boss walk in, exchanging words with Fuchs and Hotch. "'Sides. We're friends now. You do what you have to when protecting your own." Your voice shakes a bit as you trail off, torn between the grateful smile on Garcia's face and the unreadable expression on your boss'.

"I had some time earlier, during everything going on—I work quick you know? And I do little crafts when I get stressed, so…" You feel a familiar piece of clothing being pressed into your hands, and it's your jacket. You didn't even realize you left it at her apartment, ripping it off after getting shot. A small embroidered pink flower now occupies the space where the bullet hole was. She giggles, squeezing your hand as you run it over her handiwork, "Sorry I only had pink thread."

"Pretty. Even better like this. You're a genius, you know that?"

The look on her face reminds you of a little kid who gets told their drawing is a work of art, but you revel in it. Despite the fact you might lose your job for insubordination, or whatever else Ms. Stevens can tack on—Otis is still looking at you from across the room, a talk imminent for your behavior. The HRT is risk intolerant, and though you saved a life today, you took someone else's.

"I read through your file."

Your eyes rip back and meet Penelope's as she stares at you hard through her glasses, "Uh…"

"Don't worry, just me. I just… get it now. The way you walked into my apartment earlier and you couldn't catch your breath, why you're the only Red left behind. I mean I'm like that after any type of cardio, and totally get it too, I…" she stops herself, and grabs your hands, "I get it. I've been there. I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk, without the dark office and psych evaluation."

"You sure you're not a profiler?" you say simply, smirking. She laughs more freely than she has in days, patting your cheek, "Ripley, if I was, I wouldn't have been able to pass along your reinstatement papers. Your boss will see that soon enough. Again, thank you."

You can't do anything but laugh—any type of unease lifting from your system before you catch a certain spectacled analyst staring at your new friend, and you nudge her, "You know, with all the heat I'm getting right now—No one's looking at me like that." Garcia grins, looking over her shoulder and then back to you.

"Do you believe everything happens for a reason?"

As you watch her saunter over and talk to the guy, you start to believe it too.

A steaming cup of coffee is placed next to your thigh and you look over to see Spencer leaning against the other edge of the desk watching you.

"Just the way you like it."

You beam at him, leaning over to gulp the scorching liquid. The steam spreads in the short distance between you as you cock your head at him, "You remembered!"

He shrugs like it's nothing of the sort, the small gesture warming you just as much as the coffee does as it travels to your stomach.

"Do you know how hard it's been to get a cup of coffee around here?"

And then the two of you are giggling like schoolchildren, hiding behind furtive glances and shaking hands like there isn't a dead body covered by a tarp 10 feet away from where you sit. He nervously scratches at the pit of his elbow, unsure of what to say next but the moment is broken when Otis and Hotch walk over, effectively silencing your laughter. Spencer walks away quickly.

"Listen…"

Your boss sighs, rubbing at his bald head as he looks at you, "Let me guess, I'm not gonna believe what happened?" Hotch raises his eyebrows, "So you weren't kidding, Otis. That's why this agent goes by Ripley."

"You always have a way of doing things your own way, Rip."

Grimacing, your hands tighten around the mug as you look at your superior in the eye, "I followed orders and saved a life today. The rest.. was just because I really was trying to get a cup of coffee," The two men stare at you curiously, almost forming a blockade around your position on the desk, "Penelope adds vanilla and cinnamon to her oat milk." Otis looks unconvinced, still not blinking.

"I'm serious! It's delicious!"

Otis pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. As he goes, he calls out, "You're back on for the next cycle." You spring up almost as if electrocuted, "Seriously? Can't take that back!"

"Don't do anything to make me want to," your boss says when he gets to the entryway, sweeping glass with the sole of his shoe, "No more surprises. I mean it, Ripley. Keep it up."

"Congratulations are in order then," Hotch says, shaking your hand, "I'll get the detective over to speed up your clearance. We all need a good night's rest."

"Thank you, sir."

Nothing can take away the elation that runs through your veins—like being brought back from the dead. You did what you set out to do, you made your second chance count and now you're an operator again. The type that saves lives and is in action instead of just filing paperwork and watching day go to night without feeling fulfilled. Excitement blurs your senses, your knee hopping up and down and it's not the coffee but the feeling of being useful again after all this—

"And Agent?"

"Sir?" you blurt out, looking up at Hotch, face falling at his next words, "I'm sorry for your loss. Agent Young would be proud of you." You smile at him and the emptiness sets back in when he turns away, immediately taking a big gulp of your drink as the muscle memory sinks in.

It's not his fault of course. But how foolish of you to forget why it all happened in the first place. Your quest for redemption and who you've lost on the way here. Would Charlie be proud? Looking around the room for prying eyes, you twist off the cap of the flask that sits in your pocket with nimble fingers, slipping it into your long sleeve and pouring the contents into your mug until it's empty. As you take a sip, your eyes meet Spencer's over the brim and your heart lodges itself in your throat as you try to wash it all down. He nods anyway, scratching the nape of his neck and averting his eyes as he comes back to sit next to you.

"It all makes sense now."

The whiskey acts as a security blanket, protecting your feelings from what he might say next. It'd be better to pretend to not care what the doctor thinks of you, but when his shoulder nudges yours, you realize you do.

"Hmm?"

"Ripley. Did you know Robert Ripley originally titled his sports feature Champs or Chumps when it premiered in the New York Globe in 1918?" Spencer says like he didn't just catch you in the act.

"You don't have to do this, y'know," you sigh, your mouth wavering over the now-cold beverage. Being patronized over your alcoholism might just send you into a bender if we're being honest, but then he scratches at his elbow again, sleeve rolling up slightly—and then you see the dots along his skin. Faint traces of fights neither of you bring to the surface go unspoken and for the first time in a year, someone sees you—vices and all and doesn’t recoil. There’s a wave that passes between you, hidden from the people that scatter the room and you can feel something crash over you in his presence. You think you might like it, even possibly sure of it when he speaks again.

"Why not? Obscure facts are right up my alley."

The sun rises on Quantico in the big windows behind you, framing everything in a new light.

—

"So are you?"

You blink slowly, torn from the reverie. It's been almost an hour of piecing together the parts you want to tell Ms. Stevens about how last night led to getting reinstated and earning your spot back on your team. The rest…you left out to not overcomplicate the situation. Come on… everyone lies to their therapist even a little bit.

"Hmm?"

She looks at you intently from a sentence she scribbles onto her notepad, "Are you ready to go back to work?"

Glancing at the ceiling, and then to the placard on her desk, Kirsten Stevens, EAC in blocky white font—you put your thoughts into words, "I mean even if I wasn't, I have to. This is my job. I have to do it well."

"But are you ready? Do you feel… able to do it well?"

Your eyebrows furrow, "I feel like you think I'm not—even if I've already proven I can." Ms. Stevens sighs, pulling her hair back into her claw clip and clasping her fingers together. Disappointment reeks from her stare, and you can't get to the bottom of why this woman seems like she's out to get you. You do the training, you perform well on the job, what else is there to worry about? The timer beeps, signaling the end of your session and you push off your knees, getting up from the couch. Your joints creak, frowning as you're still waiting for her to say something.

"Ripley. No one's saying you can't do your job well. What I am saying is, that until you admit to yourself that something's wrong…that feeling won't go away. You can't just run from your past," she says calmly. It's almost irritating, and a part of you wishes she'd yell at you instead.

"I'm not running. I'm facing it head-on by doing what he would want me to do. Charlie would want me to get back to normal and be back at work."

And she nods at you, turning back to her notepad and handing you a sheet detailing the inner work you have to do before your next appointment, "I can agree with that. We'll move you to every two weeks now since you're heading back to work. I hope to hear from you about any new updates…" Ms. Stevens says, continuing but the rest you don't listen to. She didn't even mention Charlie and he's all everything comes back to. If this is the help she’s prescribing, why does it still feel like you’re drowning?

You walk out of her office with the paper in your clenched fist and your phone in the other as you shoot a text to Penelope.

[To PG: Hey, I hope you're feeling better! Can you send me Dr. Reid's number? I need to ask him something. Also, Rossi's definitely single right? Asking for a friend (not me).]

—

"Let's say you've swallowed a bad thing and now it's got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure." - Richard Siken

[ask to be added to taglist]

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x hrt!reader #for my gn babies (づ ◕‿◕ )づ #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #ripley!verse

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