#the three blue ones are all me trying to use up leftover paint on my pallet (and in turn generation further paint on said pallet)
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isbergillustration · 1 year ago
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A few doodles that did not quite stand on their own
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animeniac-writings · 2 years ago
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Diamond Eyes - Gojo Satoru
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Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen
Gojo's eyes shine like diamonds, an otherworldly sparkle to the sky blue that both entrances and unnerves. You tell him they're beautiful, despite all that comes with it.
Sometimes you'll be caught up at staring into his eyes without even noticing, you look at Gojo and think he should be a muse, painted infinitely even though no one will ever do him justice.
But on the nights when you wander into the kitchen for a drink, easily walking the familiar path in pitch darkness only for glowing pale eyes to stare at you from the darkness, you take it all back.
Half asleep and bleary eyed almost to the fridge and Gojo, who you hadn't even realized was missing from bed in your groggy trek, spins his head to stare at you, macron halfway to his mouth but all you see is piercing eyes from the darkness and barely stifle a scream.
Your heart is pounding in your ears and muscles painfully tensed in an instant when the eyes, bright and unrelenting crinkle from a smile, a chuckle you know so well emanating through the dark and your stomach drops.
"Satoru you asshole I said knock it off!"
Your shout breaks the quiet of the night and his laughing only gets louder while you stomp over to the light switch, flipping it on to see your lover, pig headed as ever, munching on leftover sweets you were meant to share in the morning.
(In reality he would eat most of his now, and beg you with ridiculously pleading tones and pouts to share in the morning, but wouldn't really take much more than his share.)
"You should have seen your face!" You can see he's trying, barely, to stomp full-on laughing at you, seething in your bunny slippers.
"Almost gave me a heart attack damn you Satoru." You swipe the half eaten macron from his hand, and three more from the counter for good measure, ignoring his whine.
Mumbling "Creepy motherfucker" as you stuff one into your mouth making him squawk indignantly.
"Hey! I thought you said I was beautiful, your one and only, perfect in every way, sculpted by the gods themselves, what happened to that? Have you only used me for snacks? To break my heart?"
You glare halfheartedly at him, tiredness coming back with the adrenaline from an unearthly threat seeping away, only your idiot boyfriend trying to pull his snacks closer to himself-away from you in the kitchen at 4am.
"I never said anything like that spiel, and certainly not to some weirdo that lurks in dark kitchens with LEDs piercing through his unsuspecting, thirsty, victim's souls."
You ignore his pathetic whining and head back to bed, glass of water in one hand and snatching the bakery bag from him in the other, as if he isn't right on your heels like he always is.
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letterstomonkey · 2 years ago
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A Letter from Your Monkey
I am made of spices just like you, Dad
I bring your dirty laundry downstairs
and I walk behind you
Locking eyes with your left leg limping
You taught me how to read time
You asked me what time it was
Watching 60 minutes and the Andy Griffith show every night
Mom got upset when I slept in your bed
But I like to wake up to your snoring
Because I need to know you are alive sometimes
Your humanity escaped me for many years
The world painted you a monster
I painted you my handprint
On a blue oven mitt at preschool for Father's Day
You keep it in the kitchen of your one story house
Where you wake up alone
and you speak another language
I can not read it but I try to read you
I read between the lines of your forehead wrinkles and receding hairline
I read between the lines of of every car you crashed
Pistachio shells
Your black leather jacket
And the way You were more gentle with my body
Than my mother was
And I noticed that
I remember that
Your belt you never used against me
You held my humanity over my head
You came from another world
You named me after your biggest blessings
A big tub of rice on the floor of the pantry
And your twelve year old shoes in the laundry room
Your cologne carries over to my hesitance to wear mascara
And your disappointment lays a hand on my shoulder
in every photo where I smile without my teeth
Daddy, you are a reckless driver
Yet you buckle my stuffed animal in the backseat beside me
I stayed up reading books every night waiting for you to come home at ten, eleven, twelve, or sometimes never o'clock
I liked to be awake with you alone
I hid from you before you left for work in the mornings
I have ears like you
My chin stays raised, and stubborn like you
I am ten o'clock at night
I became the leg you shifted your weight on
And I pulled the crutch out from under you
Inside the Mecklenburg County courtroom
Your lawyers and your layovers
The color green of our family
You told me one day I would wear a green wedding dress
Like your sisters, like my Daddy's sisters
You would walk me down the aisle
You would be there and be able to walk
You taught me how to tell time
You taught me how to use these legs
To run as far away as they would take me
Only if I made it home for dinner
And you brought leftovers to Rick and Kathy across the street
They did not need food
But you had to give everything away
It is what you know how to do
You use your voice like a wooden cutting board
Letting sharper shrieking siblings and moms leave their mark
They grew more dull
You are as you always have been
I loved you in great expectations
I lost you in great expectations
I color your skin in orange crayon
My Daddy has orange skin and they don't make the right color for it
My Daddy is a broken violin
A piano that has not been tuned in thirty years
But you open the top
And dust swirls into the air
Making its presence known three doors down
You make your presence known all the way to the end of the street
You hand me dollar bills to save in an empty pretzel jar
You keep Klondike bars in bulk in our freezer
and you eat my leftovers in the fridge but you don't tell me that
I don't ask you either
I recall you getting ready for work
I used to play Webkinz on your laptop
and made my own rules for one player chess
And you hid everything
I learned to be so good at hiding things
Hiding myself
Hiding from you
I keep coming home,
Something about burning charcoal
Something about growing tomatoes in the garden that will stay with me forever
When I haven't eaten in days
My stomach still accepts tomatoes, raw
Bitten into like forbidden fruit from the garden of Parviz
Forbidden footsteps on the front steps
The puppy gate at the bottom of the stairs that you broke
I'm sorry for not understanding how much more difficult we made it for you to walk up the stairs
I slide down the railing
I sit outside your bedroom at night
Careful not to wake anybody
But I listen to your wheezing snoring stirring
Until my stomach turns slower
Still sifting through you at nineteen
I am still sifting through your sins
I am still cutting up my legs on the brick fireplace
And leaving notes for Santa on the mantle
And sinking into the sofa where you left indentations
I am still at the bus stop at the end of the driveway
Watching you walking outside to get the mail in your boxers and stained white t-shirt
And I am turning redder than the tomatoes you grew in the garden
And I am fuming shades of saffron and cumin
I'm wondering what you see in me
I'm never on the same page as you but
I have a million paper cuts from searching for you
I hide my phone from you when you enter the room
Deleting flip phone text messages as quickly as I can
And by the time your footstep crescendo creaks into my doorway
I am sitting on both of my hands
And I realize I left the big light on a couple hours too late at night
Oh, I am torn, torn, torn
Lord, I pray for my tongue
To speak in solidarity with my father's
I pray for the provision of speech to bring this house to its knees
I pop balloons
when it is too quiet in my mind
The sound of sudden endings is familiarity
I have been grieving you since I laid eyes on you
And you have been picking up the pieces of your presence since the beginning of time
You taught me the hands of time
The little one is for seconds and she is quick, like me when I scored three goals in one game and you were so proud of me
The short hand tells the hours
He is slow and stubborn but stable and You are the hours
And the minute hand is impatient, always butting heads with the other ones, confusing me, not enough of its own thing to stand alone
My mother
My third grade teacher got mad at me for throwing food across the lunch table
and I started crying about my Dad
I told her I had not seen you in so long
And why were you gone when I needed you
I didn't really need a dad
But how I could I forget you once introduced
How could I fill the hole where you told me I was Your pride and Your joy
How could I grow up in the same house where you forbid me from letting go of catching fireflies
And eating dinner at Cici's pizza
And blockbuster movie rentals
And the three stooges
I am still learning how to tell time
How to speak with a softer tongue
But a heartier throat
A less fearful laugh
A genuine generosity that knows not withholding of love and forgiveness and beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful forgetfulness
I am still remembering something
60 minutes til the clock strikes midnight
6 years old when the nightmares took over
I will let mom excavate the bones of me
When the morning light tells her to rescue me
I let her blanket me in guilt ridden goosebumps
Knowing I needed rescuing at midnight
and my Daddy was the one to save me
And it is the least I could do to sleep next to him
I needed to know that you are still alive
Sometimes in my nightmares you are not
Your humanity escaped me for many years
When you were home I covered up my ears
If every other voice in the world is a knife
You were born a wooden cutting board
Absorbing the damage
Taking hits like a champion
You are as you always have been
Your garden, you grew me
Your garden, you showed me
Tomatoes can't grow red without green
I wear a watch on my middle finger of my left hand
I've been learning how time works since I was eight
I see you in the steady hour hand
How could I ever be anything but Your pride and Your joy
How could I grow up in the same place you forbid me from letting go of catching fireflies
The sound of sudden endings reminds me of you
I've been grieving you since I was a child
I've been grieving you since I learned of death
I've been grieving you since I made a friend
With death and all his passive compliments
I pray for provision of speech to bring this house to its knees
The sound of sudden endings is my family, my childhood street
I will never forgive myself for the years I can't get back
I love you past the meaning of life
Life and death knows not the love for my Dad
I miss you like a hurricane aftermath
You've been picking up the pieces of your presence since the beginning of time
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pbandjesse · 1 year ago
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Today was a really productive day but man am I tired. It did not help that I was wildly congested last night. My nose hurts so bad and I woke up with it scabby and painful. It did not make me want to get up.
Plus I could hear James in the other room on the phone and then I heard people. We were finally getting an oven. But I did not want to interact. So I waited in bed until things got quiet. James came in to tell me we had an oven. And that is was little? It isn't the same width so it looks funny in the space. But it's fine we won't be here long.
I got dressed and made a little peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I felt a little ugly today. But it wasn't about me. I had things to do. And I was looking forward to it.
Even if my mood was not amazing. Like nothing was particularly wrong but I was a little on edge. I was happy to be going away from the apartment because like I said before it is bringing me stress. James packed all the boxes they could in the car. And getting that stuff out of here helped but still. The stress is real.
It is going to be so nice when I am back to a neat space that I have control over. I can't wait to have shelves and storage and everything I have been planning put together.
We would leave here and head over to the house. I was trying to be positive even if I was feeling a little off. Once we got to the house though I started to feel better. James would bring things inside and I would deliver them to the correct rooms. And it didn't take long. It was a lot of knickknacks and studio stuff and some kitchen things.
Once things were inside I went upstairs to start painting. The new color is so much better but, hilariously, the paint was frozen! I had forgotten it in the car and I just had to laugh. Thankfully it wasn't solid. And I was able to mix it and de-ice it. It wasn't as liquid but it would work.
James would join me eventually after putting away some stuff downstairs. I put them in charge of the edges I could reach. And we would switch back and forth from who was using a brush and who was using the roller.
Painting a ceiling is tough!! But we worked together and did a really good job and I absolutely love how it looks. Seriously once we were two hours in I just laid on the ground and felt so happy. Laying on the ground also just helped me see what would need to be touched up. But overall we were able to knock the whole thing out in less then three hours.
James would leave to go pack the car up, get gas, and pick us up lunch from Chipotle. And I was left to my own devices.
After taking a break I went to take the tape down in the bathroom. The green dried down so beautifully. I cannot wait to put up all the decorations. I struggled with some of the tape because I couldn't reach it but I got what I could and that very last piece James would get later on.
I went back to the bedroom to touch up what I could see. One of the issues with using such a dark blue against the windows I struggled to see. But I did my best and by looking at it from different angles I think I was able to get everything. And I still have a little leftover paint so I think everything will be just perfect in the end.
I cleaned up and put some things away. Moved stuff to the basement. And started unpacking what I could. I wanted to empty as many boxes as I could to send back home for further packing. I also hung out door knocker. I was having a good time.
But I was also hungry. So it was really nice when James got back with food. They sell were able to say hi to our new mail man. And he requested we put our name on the mail box! Can do! We got our very first piece of mail. Our homeowners insurance. Good. I'm glad it was a real piece of mail.
James brought things inside before they joined me in eating lunch. They took a moment to fix the fridge water dispenser because I couldn't figure it out. Turns out in my trying to fix it I had turned off the water to the fridge. Oops. But now we know how to fix it and turn off the water if needed in the future.
After lunch I would start unpacking the boxes they brought. And they would start working on the kitchen. I would join them and put away what I could. We don't have our pantry or island yet so we worked with what we had in front of us. We need two lazy susans for the corner cabinet but everything else went pretty well after some fussing.
I took all of our unframed stuff out of the box to put under a book to hopefully flatten it. And as we were finishing that the Fulwilers were coming over!
I was excited to share the house with them. Tucker took all kinds of pictures. And they had lots of questions. It was fun showing it off though they keep talking about furniture we can have that they have in the garage. We will see. I have mapped out a lot of our furniture so I don't know what will fit and I don't want to be over run. But we will see what works out.
After our tour we sat in the living room and talked about the plans for a while. But I was getting tired. My allergies have been touch and go all day but I think I was just beat. It was a long day.
They Fulwilers headed out and we followed after. We put all the boxes in the car and headed back to the apartment.
When we got back here we brought the boxes inside. But when we got in here James got super upset when we found my flower plant fell down! It was just to top heavy. So the flowers broke but there is still one that has bloomed yet so it's okay. It's an annual plant so I think it will be okay in the long run even if it was damaged.
James was overly upset. And that made me upset. But we would calm down and I got some spikes and take to reinforce the stem of the deeper and it will be okay. It will live.
James would do laundry and I would get in bed to rest with sweetp. Eventually we had a little dinner. James painted their nails. And I tried to feel alright.
I think I will take a shower and try to sleep. I actually was able to go to bed earlier then not sleeping last night so I'm hoping to do that again. Wish me luck.
Tomorrow I have a half day of work and then we are going to get tattoos!! I hope it is fun.
Sleep well everyone. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Goodnight!!
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sunshinemunchkin · 3 years ago
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Finger Painting: Part 2
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader
summary: after coming up with a new hobby of painting portraits on skin, instead of canvases, you and aaron decide to make it a traditional activity of all sorts. (part 2: a night of gentle and seemingly innocent touches leaves aaron needing you in more ways than he thinks he does.)
warnings: 18+, smut, switch hotch, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, use of italics, let me know if i missed anything
word count: 6.1k i know i’m sorry
a/n: my first two parter! this one’s gonna be a three parter but- anyways get ready 👀 but thank you for all the love on the first part <3 ily all. part one here
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“tickles, y/n!” jack’s little giggles filled the room with light and love as you dragged the washable paint across his little back.
eyeing aaron who was stroking his son’s hair while you decorated his skin with shades of blue and green, you couldn’t help but notice how in love he looked. his eyes relaxed and soft as his gaze flitted between you and jack.
admiring aaron's wide smile as you both painted doodles of flowers and hearts on jack’s freckled back, the masterpiece that you and him previously worked in together drying on his skin. jack had signed, 'jack hotchner', at the base of his fathers back in black paint sitting comfortably next to your own name he made you sign. the young boy stated that he learned in school how all the great artists signed their art and claimed it as theirs so no one would steal it.
the saying meant something different to you, however you didn’t need to tell the seven year old that. aaron held his hand out for a paintbrush so he could draw something on his son, you granting him his wish, watched his actions.
he dipped it in the bright yellow paint on the pallet and began forming a sun high in the sky, rays extending every which way. you started to make a green hill, your mind wandering slightly and your smile growing as you sunk into the comfortable vibe of the room. on the hill, there stood a little boy with a red hat that you were sure jack owned as well. in his hand a pinwheel that aaron painted for you with extra care and attention.
you swirled your finger in the red paint on the boys back, his soft laughs carrying in the air as you did so. tapping his little nose with the painted finger, he giggles loudly and squirms around. aaron, trying to avoid the situation of paint on his rug, held his sons shoulders down so he wouldn’t turn over and laugh like he knew he would. with a small kiss placed to his head, aaron smiled at his son as he made funny faces up at him and called himself a clown.
“wack-o jack-o, would be your name.” he said, teasing the boy who scrunched his nose up as he broke out into a fit of giggles. he looked so alive, his features mimicking aaron’s whenever he laughed and you couldn’t help but be in awe of how similar they looked to one another.
aaron turned to you, catching your admiring gaze and tossing a toothy grin at you. you returned the favor, leaning over to tap the man’s nose with the leftover paint that resided on your finger. jack interrupted your moment with your boyfriend, complaining that the paint was drying and he wanted to see his masterpiece before the sun had fully set and it would time for bed.
the next few minutes were spent with you detailing as aaron spoke softly to his son to keep him calm, watching as you focused intently on the marks and intricacies that you danced across the boys back. jack talked his dad’s ear off about soccer and school, aaron happy to listen as if he hadn’t heard all of it before. but he was just grateful for this rare time that he had with jack. he and his son had a beautiful relationship that you loved to watch. how relaxed aaron became when he was at home, how happy jack got to finally talk with his dad about anything and everything.
after a while, you step back from the boys. you reach for aaron’s phone, smiling at the memory of the same motion you had made when you guys had first done this activity. one that had left you being railed by aaron on the couch in your apartment when you had first done this activity. the reminder created a flush of heat to course throughout your body as you forced yourself to push the thought aside for the time being.
aaron caught the hesitation in your actions, smirking to himself at the familiarity of it all. recalling that night with you and how in love he was- is- with you. how much fun your endeavors from that night were and the different feel of it all. the messiness of the paint, among other things, that got everywhere made him feel like a young man again, it brought life to his veins. you brought life back to him. when haley died, aaron was unsure if he would ever find that comfort again. that peace he had at the beginning of his relationship with her. that sweetness.
instead he found something so much better. something new and fresh. lively and yet relaxing at the same time. you always knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. when his overworked mind clouded his judgment about what he needed in that moment it all faded to dust at the slightest contact of your skin on his. the second that your hands touched him, forcing his tired bones to sit down and just breathe for what felt like the first time in so long. he felt renewed. he felt alive with you.
so in this moment, while you snapped a couple of pictures of both his and jack’s artwork that had been completed, he fell in love all over again. the smile on his face grew with each giggle that you let out. with this new stage in his life, he wanted to give you everything that he had of himself, the amount of love you had poured out for both him and his son overwhelming. accepting both of them with open arms and a wide grin on your face as if you just won the lottery. and in your eyes, you did.
you couldn’t imagine anything better than saturday nights with your boys. aaron looking ten years younger as opposed to a work night when he had the whole world weighing on his shoulders. you were grateful for the moments that you three got to spend together, even the two of you, whether that be aaron or with jack. you enjoyed their company just as much as they enjoyed yours.
on jack’s back, was a mixed up portrait of a boyish figure, staring up at the blue sky which held dozens of hot air balloons. the doodles you and aaron turned into beautiful pieces of material that floated in the air with a sunset behind them. when you showed the boy the picture his face broke out into a wide grin, his dimple very much exposed. “it’s perfect, y/n! i like it!” you felt an overwhelming amount of pride and love for the boy as he kissed your cheek. your combined giggles with jack's filled the air before you allowed for him to sit up and so the paint had a chance to dry.
he went to play with his legos, the act of sitting still for so long having made him antsy to focus on something else. you sat next to aaron on the couch and looked over the artwork on his own toned back. a scene of a house by a lake rested atop his skin with slightly messy clouds drawn in by jack, an out of place sun with a smiley face against a blue sky. the result of both of your artistic abilities splayed out across the loved man's muscles.
“hi.” you spoke softly, nudging his shoulder which prompted him to wrap an arm around you and kiss the top of your head. inhaling before speaking, aaron took that time to make a memory of you two with your boy. him succumbing to the terrifying yet fitting thought of you being a permanent part of his and jack’s lives.
watching as the child before you built a tall tower and make the little man climb up it, you couldn’t help but think about your life with aaron. the thought of a home filled with life and love satisfying your heart, aaron at the center of it all.
peeking at the art on his back, you kiss aaron’s shoulder. a mole- your favorite one- captured underneath your lips as your nipped and bit at the mans flesh, the innocent touch turned intimate. a soft sigh escaped from aaron’s lips, a new red mark forming on his skin from your mouth. “babe.” his voice was low as he didn’t want to draw jack’s attention to what was happening a mere ten feet away from him.
you were very obviously trying to rile the man up, is what was happening. trying to get him to crumble so that you’ll have him in the palm of your hand; soft and pliable. and it was working, slowly but surely as you hummed against aaron’s shoulder, his eyes shutting at the contact of your tongue with his warm skin.
your mouth traveled upwards to nip at his ear, eyes darting over to jack and seeing how he had moved on to play with his cars, quietly humming to himself as he did so. aaron's face grew redder with each kiss that you pressed against on his neck, the temperature between you two increasing. sinking your teeth into the man's earlobe, he let out a soft hiss, your smirk planting itself against his flushed skin.
"daddy?" you pull away as quickly as you could before jack could realize what was happening between you and his dad. aaron, with a slight huskiness to his voice, locked his wide eyes onto his now sleepy son.
you laugh softly to yourself before the man beside you wrapped an arm around you and kissed the top of your head. "yeah bud." aaron noticed how jack's eyes were drooping along with his head, his soft yawns sounding to confirm the thought.
slowly, aaron rose to pick up the boy. cradling him to his chest and groaning softly at how he got still drying paint on his palm when unconsciously pressing it against jack's back purely out of habit. you stifled a laugh and followed him upstairs to wet a cloth to wash the boy's back off. "no. wanna keep it." aaron and you shared a sad smile at jack's protests and the destruction of his artwork.
"bubby, if we don't clean you up, you'll get all itchy." with that short explanation, aaron sat jack on the counter in aaron's bathroom. you dragged the warm cloth against his small back, taking away all evidence of any hot air balloons or a grassy field.
once the process was complete, leaving the boy dry with some red and blue residual paint stains from the previous masterpiece. by the time that you were done, jack was resting his head on your shoulder, having fallen fully asleep due to the soothing motion on his back.
aaron laughed at his two loves, following behind you while you carried him into his room. placing the boy in his bed, he let his head fall heavily onto the pillow, aaron pressing a kiss into his blonde hair as soft puffs of air left his lips. you smiled at the scene, brushing back the boy's locks from his eyes as he leaned into you, earning a kiss from you as well. aaron admiring the scene in return.
when you two finally had made your way out of the boy's room with a soft click of his door, aaron's arms were around you, smiling into the crook of your neck. you giggled softly against him, your nose falling against his temple, into his head of hair as he picked you up by the back of your thighs and carried you back into the bathroom.
he placed you on the counter just as he had done with jack, your lips meeting his and a smile being shared between the two of you. "you're so good with him." aaron spoke, a smile spreading out across his lips and leading up to his eyes when he pulled away to execute the sentence.
humming against aaron, your hands tugged at his brown locks. "he's easy to love." you pull aaron's face away from where he was placing numerous amounts of kisses and hickies to your neck to kiss his reddened lips. the man simply responded by slipping his hands underneath the edge of your shirt. you knew what he wanted, a request to which you complied, granting him permission to remove it from your body.
but before you could return the favor and untie the string of his sweats, aaron pulled away, moving to turn on the hot water, letting the steam bounce off the tiles in the room and cling to the mirror, beginning the condensation process. you bite your lip at how his back muscles flexed with each and every movement that he conducted. the painting on his skin rippling and mimicking the appearance of moving water; it was if you were there at the house on the lake.
turning back to you, aaron caught your gaze. his eyes raking over your semi nude body, sitting on the counter in your sports bra and shorts, already leaving little to the imagination. a small smirk escaped the man as he sauntered back over to you and you were able to finally undo the tie on his waist, aaron helping you by peeling down his sweats and boxers in one swift motion.
you resisted the obvious urge to lick your lips as you drank in the sight of aaron, half hard, and staring at you with the same exact look. aaron licked his lips for the both of you, signaling for you to lift your arms, his nimble fingers immediately tending to peel your bra off. and once your breasts were bore to him, the man couldn't help but dip his head down and bring one of them into his mouth, eyes peering up at you to catch your reaction.
your breath hitched at the sight of seeing aaron in such a submissive position. underneath you like this; putty. and with his very audible moan against your skin, something snapped inside of you. your hand slipped up the back of his neck, your nails dragging in the paint on his back, unearthing it and the colors caking underneath your nails, even more moans being elicited from aaron's throat.
"what's the matter, baby?" your tone was slightly teasing, aaron's pupils completely blown out at the words that left your lips. he said nothing before separating from you and heaving you off the counter. your shorts were pried off with more than enough haste before aaron was seducing you into the warm stream of water as quickly as he could possibly manage.
you laughed at his eagerness, aaron not finding anything about this situation funny. his pout more prominent than ever because he knew how long it took to get the paint out of his skin once it fully dried. he wanted- needed- you now.
once your hair was damp, and aaron's back was a stream of colors, you began lathering soap onto his skin, rubbing at his shoulders and scrubbing the paint away gently. your nails felt like a mixture of ice and fire in aaron's nerves, the sensation feeling incredibly intoxicating, like he would never be able to get enough.
you failed to notice the series of whines that left aaron's throat, your mind too focused on how the taut skin of his back felt underneath your fingertips. scrubbing and kneading out the knots that laid at his lower back, aaron let out a particularly loud moan, one that made your core clench.
traveling your eyes to where his head hung, his strong arms leaning his body weight against the tiles. his hair looked especially dark what with being doused in the warm water he was standing under. you leaned against his back, tits squished against his frame as you let your hands wander down to his hips and around to feel how hard he was, which was that of a rock. a mixture of pain and pleasure was voiced from aaron, your hand immediately drawing back. but when the man's hand found yours and guided it up and down his length, you felt at ease, knowing that you were, indeed, inflicting satisfaction on him.
groans and whimpers tumbled from aaron's mouth, your cheek rested on his now clean back as you stroked him languidly. "baby." his voice came out broken and needy, making you stop.
you weren't about to get him to finish in the shower when you hadn't even begun to have some fun with the situation he was in. with the headspace you sensed he had entered when you peered into his honey eyes that were now coated completely in lust.
drawing away from him completely, he scoffed, turning so that he could look at you with a disapproving glare. you simply shrugged at his action, taking your shampoo and lathering your hair up, your back turned to the man as you did. his gaze was burning into your skin as you washed your hair, you felt how his eyes traveled along your body and stopped at the curve of your ass before making their way back up to the top of your head, where your arms were elevated and working the soap efficiently into your hair.
when he led you under the flow of water, guiding you by your waist, you found yourself flush against his chest. you peered up at him, to which he smiled at whilst rinsing your hair free from any remnants of shampoo. the duration of your bath continued like that, soft touches and drunken smiles. aaron's hands tracing every one of your features and you placing your hands over his to feel how he identified you through touch.
this all lasted until you went to wash your body, foaming your favorite soap that drove aaron completely nuts between your hands and trailing it across your torso and arms. aaron, who was watching the whole scene unfold and listened to your soft hums as you perfected this act of madness, felt dizzy just staring at you with your back to him.
but when you leaned down in front of him to massage the soap into your legs, pushing your ass against his raging hard on in the process, that was the last straw for the man. his hands flew to squeeze your hips, pulling you back against him and grinding against your sopping pussy. though it was hard to tell with the amount of water and bubbles that trailed down your body.
"y/n." he grunted out. aaron's eyes fluttered shut once you began to push back into him. your hips ground against his leaking cock, a smirk plastered on your face as you glanced over your shoulder to watch the man's expression range from pleased to desperate.
swiveling your body so that you could gain more friction, aaron's cock slipped against your ass, slick with the foam that coated your skin. the grip that the man had on your hips was bruising and you knew that the evidence would be there tomorrow morning. breathy moans left aaron's mouth as he bucked up into you, pride swelling in your chest at his motion. seeing him rut his hard length against you like a bitch in heat.
standing upright, you caught the man's attention, his hips ceasing their thrusting upwards to give you his needy, but undivided, attention. in his eyes hung craving and compliance. you had him right where you wanted. "what's wrong baby?" your tone was soft yet sultry, and all around low enough to make aaron's knees buckle underneath him had you not reached out to hold his waist.
a whimper, something that seemed uncontrollable at this moment, left his lips. his forehead dropping down to meet yours as he panted heavily against your mouth, neither of you ever making physical contact with your areas of desire. "need you. please."
you clicked your tongue at him in a condescending manner, his wide eyes staring at you as you did so. his heart sank as if he had done something completely wrong to make you execute the gesture. cupping his face, you kissed him gently, every emotion conveyed between your lips. you needed him to know that he was not at fault, that all this was just for show and you would eventually give him what he wanted- needed.
"what do you need, sweetheart? tell me." your words mimicked aaron's when you were the one in his position, taking advantage of his submissive demeanor entirely. aaron admired the similarities between your words and his previous ones, taking pride and comfort in the fact that he taught you everything you need to know. so he played to your game, wanting to see where it would go, and before he could even register what came out of his mouth next, his voice was answering your question without his consultation.
"need to fill you up."
that certainly wasn't what you were expecting when you had asked him what he needed. however you weren't opposed to the fact.
your wide eyes spoke for themselves, however your smile told a different story to aaron. it read surprised, curiosity, and dare he say, yearning? you and him had spoken, joked more like, about having more kids in the future. meaningless talks of a big house and a porch swing where you could rock your children to sleep in the cool breeze of summer. visions of your kids running up and down the stairs of a two story home, chasing the dog that jack just happened to 'find' on his way home from school, of course.
as of right now, your life with aaron was simple. it was expectant and you couldn't help but want to take things to the next level with the man. feeling in your heart of hearts that he just may be the only person you could ever envision that kind of life with. "yeah?" was all you could muster up, still taken aback by his request.
aaron didn't seem phased, lust slightly clouding his mind as he let the effect of his words take charge. he simply nodded and smiled down at you, kissing you back feverishly when you leaned up to grant his wish of a peck on the lips, the deafening thought of a family swirling around in both of your minds. he hummed against you, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you in a big, stupid suburban home, kids and dogs galore. it was cheesy and cliche as it gets, but it was what aaron needed with you, unable to bare the thought of it being with anyone else. or worse, you with someone else.
"yeah." was all you needed to smash your lips against his once more. aaron pulled your naked chests together, the water slipping between the two of you marvelously. you were now at the point of no return that aaron was at: need and want for something, anything.
with one more quick rinse to the both of your bodies, clear of all soapy residue, aaron led you out of the shower and wrapped you in a fluffy towel. you giggled as he shook his hair out, droplets landing everywhere around the two of you. meeting your eyes with a boyish grin adorning his lips, he looked lighter, younger.
after drying your hair quickly, you walk over to shut his bedroom door. you were kicking it shut when aaron spun you back around into his arms, picking you up by the backs of your legs, and carrying your laughing frame to the bed. tossing you onto it, he began his purposeful journey of crawling up your body, placing heavy kisses to any area he had access to.
you watched his dark and damp head make it's way up your legs, pausing at the apex of your thighs. his honey eyes met yours and instantly softened, swimming in love and adoration before awaiting your consent to continue as he always did.
with a small nod, aaron's tongue darted out to flick against your clit, earning a soft sigh from you the mattress swallowing you as you sunk into it in complete comfort. your wet hair spread out around you, tits perky and nipples hard. aaron swore he could just cum at mere the sight of you. the minimal friction against his throbbing length from the soft blanket doing nothing to help.
eventually, with more fervor, aaron's full tongue came out to play. laying against your slit and drinking in every drop of arousal you had to offer. your moans and heavy breathing was something aaron could get drunk off of, his tongue and fingers working together to bring you to the brink of heaven.
"that's it, aaron. y'such a good boy for me." your words made the man moan loudly against your core, coaxing another wave of pleasure to spill from your clenching hole. he slipped two thick fingers into your awaiting hole, driven by your words. by the thought of being a good boy.
he didn't know what it was about the phrase, but it made aaron want to do everything in his power to please you. to be good for you, to be yours. it was almost overwhelming how badly he needed it, basking in the glow of being obedient and completely at your will.
you saw how much your words had affected your boyfriend, smirking to yourself at how absolutely desperate he was appearing to be. his blown out pupils hidden behind hooded eyes would've shown you everything that you needed to know. submission coated in lust and desire within his honey irises.
"you gonna be my good boy?" though your question came out broken, it still earned an eager whine from the man beneath you, lapping at your soaking cunt. the vibrations from the noise of desperation from aaron echoed throughout your pussy, a moan being coaxed from you as well.
your hands traveled down to grip at his hair gently. the action driving him over the edge and into complete compliance. aaron's fingers worked to bring you over the edge, lips sucking harshly at your clit and swirling the button against his tongue as if it were the best candy he had ever tasted. and in his foggy mind, it truly was.
he could hear his heart beat and blood rushing in his ears. the sound of you climbing over the edge and the feel of your fingers tightening in his hair only added to that sensation. aaron could've sworn he saw stars and every constellation as you clenching his fingers as if they were trying to drag some sort of release from them as well.
when you had finally come down from the clouds, aaron working you through every moment of the aftermath, he smiled up at you. your hands outstretched to him, grabbing at him so that he could come up and shower you in kisses. you panted with the man, tasting yourself on his lips and whimpering at the thought. aaron, needier than ever, bucked against your sensitive pussy, a soft inhale of air earned from you.
"sorry." he apologized quickly, trying his hardest to refrain from thrusting against your glistening folds. you said nothing, simply smiling up at the man as you pushed the hair that fell into his eyes away from his face so that you were able to see into the windows of his soul. you saw life, love, and lust all wrapped up in a bubble that held you and him.
you took your thumb and wiped away some of your arousal that rested on his chin before popping the digit into the man's mouth. at your reciprocated action, he moaned around your smaller finger which he naturally assumed would be in between your own lips as it always ended up there. this was different. this was new, exciting, invigorating, and hot as hell.
"baby." aaron whined against your finger, spit now trailing down your hand at his salivation. you looked up at the man with tenderness and curiosity. how far could you take him? how much could he endure until he was crossing the line of anger and down right misery?
cupping his face, you peel back his bottom lip before taking it between your teeth and letting it snap back into place. "i know honey, i know" your words are soft and let aaron know that you have him. you have him in the palm of your hand and you're not gonna let go.
he whimpered when you pulled away, only to have his sudden sadness be replaced with gleefulness when you laid back against the pillows and pulled him down on top of you, the red head of his violently leaking cock meeting the top of your pussy. the contact of warmth made the two of you hiss in pleasure, aaron's eyes nearly rolling all the way back into his head.
"go on, my love. be a good boy f'me and mark me." aaron was jolted out of his haze at the phrase. mark me, you said and the man felt himself floating.
his eyes filled with lust and a surprising amount of dominance coursed through his veins. his arms pulled you flat against the mattress and he sheathed himself inside of you in one swift motion. the sudden stretch and encapsulation of your walls around aaron's cock made the two of you moan in unison, your hand flying up to cover his mouth in fear of waking the young boy down the hall. between shared giggles and kisses, the two of of you entered your state of pleasure once more after adjusting to each other's intimate space.
when aaron had started his shallow thrusts, you felt your back arch and a hum make it's way up your throat. aaron had leaned down to kiss at the curve of your neck when you had thrown your head back. lips sweeping over the marks trailing your warm flesh in varying colors of purple and red, ones he knew would be there along with the dark bruises he was leaving on your hips, coloring you in.
your arms had come up to wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails dragging up his back and creating red stripes in their wake. he groaned at the feeling of his hot skin being clawed at and exposed to the cold air of the room. the feeling, much like before in the shower, of fire and ice. he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips before adjusting your hips so that he could drill into you without remorse.
a yelp left your throat at the sudden change in position and vibe the room had fallen into, your legs bent up against your chest. you being in the submissive position now rather than the man who was pounding into you was something that never failed to make you moan, that feeling of ownership and possessiveness that came with every one of aaron's touches. whether they be innocent or not.
"gonna fill you up, sweetheart. get you nice and full with my cum, till it's spilling out of you." with each word, aaron's thrusts increased in speed and power. the bed shook underneath you, aaron holding your legs back to allow for your pussy to be on full display for him. and although along with that action he was holding himself up, the snap of his hips never faltered.
while his words made you moan, you had a rebuttal. one which you knew would send him flying over the edge, and back into his submissive state once more. it was just the something that you needed in order to cum after having seen it unleashed. "yes, want all of you. sign your masterpiece."
with the contents of tonight's activities, aaron was overcome with the whole of it all. the sight of you with his son and how perfect you fit into his life. how he couldn't imagine himself without you by his side, holding his hand and telling him that everything was going to be okay. being the mother of his kids and his best friend for life.
all the great artists signed their art so no one would steal it, jack claimed earlier. you were aaron's, and god-forbid if anyone tried to take you from him.
groaning at the thought of you swole with his baby, he buried his face into your neck. your hand coming up to pull at the hair that laid at the nape of his neck. aaron's dropping down to where you two connected and rubbed your clit fervently, needing to feel you clench around him as he emptied his load into you.
"fuck." was heard from the two of you as he finished inside of you, your velvet walls closing around aaron's cock and milking him for every drop of his cum. it was if your body knew before your mind what to do, what to expect. short pants escaped you both, coming down from your highs.
aaron's thrusts slowed, his own body feeling the need to push his cum as deep into you as he could. when you let out a soft whimper, he came to a complete stop, stilling inside of you as he blindly grabbed for a pillow from behind you. placing the fluffy material underneath your hips with his tongue poking out between his lips, you giggled at his concentration.
he met your eyes, beads of sweat having formed on his forehead, a smirk dancing on his lips. "what're you doin', baby?" you asked quietly while you played with the strands of hair that fell from the front of his head. ones that were often gelled back and didn't get a chance to come out and play.
aaron hummed, kissing your neck and smoothing his tongue over the red marks that he had previously made. "gotta make sure it takes." you let out a rather loud laugh, partially because of the tickling sensation his lips provided and partially from his words. with your exclamation, aaron looked back up with a wide grin, his hands still firmly lain over your hips so that you would lie still. convinced that this would work and you would wake up pregnant with his baby, even though that isn't how it works.
slowly, the man pulled out of you once he had softened, his eyes immediately darting down to watch the cum spill out of your abused hole. "go on, love. push for me, wanna see it fall out of you." you do as told, resulting in a small whine when he pushed it all back in you with his thumb. "oh god." he exclaimed lowly, drooling at the sight of you being filled with him.
he came back up to stick his thumb in between your lips, your tastebuds dancing at sensation of your combined arousal that dripped off of aaron's digit. withdrawing his hand from your face, aaron peppered your lips with grinning kisses. you basked in the glory of his love, his affection, and the post-sex haze that always came with it all. "now," another three kisses, "you hungry?" you smiled and nodded, kissing the man's cheek.
laughing to himself, he rose from the bed and entered the still steamy bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to wipe you both clean. "gotta take care of my girl. and my baby." chuckling at the thought, you placed your hands on aaron's strong biceps as he wiped the cum free from your sex.
"aaron, you just filled me up. it takes time." he didn't care. the mere idea of you carrying his child, even if it hadn't been confirmed yet, was just too satisfying. so he just shrugged, tossing the cloth into the pile of dirty clothes and slipped on a pair of boxers before wrapping his robe around his tall frame.
aaron covered you with the blanket and left you there with the pillow still under your hips. "stay. just relax." you voiced out a soft groan, one that was met with a pointed, but joking, glare from the man. you saw there was no arguing with your boyfriend, so you settled back into the bed, leaving him happy with how well you were listening.
"good girl. i'll be right back." in his departure, you couldn't help but grin at the thought of you being taken care of like this when you actually were pregnant with his kid. a goofy grin splaying across your face at the love that you were enveloped in from the man you adored to your heart's content.
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homoose · 4 years ago
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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x reader)
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Summary: Y/N meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Y/N meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling. 
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: hurt/comfort, fluff
Word Count: 5k
Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it
a/n: Thank you all for your patience and kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️
Series Masterlist
———
Y/N felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.
“Are you almost done?”
“You made quite the mess, doctor.” It was the last weekend of Spencer’s sabbatical, and he had spent the afternoon cooking all of her favorite foods— a sort of preemptive gift for when he was back on the BAU’s unpredictable schedule. She’d taken on the responsibility of the dishes in return, which was no easy undertaking considering it seemed as though he’d used every single pot, pan, and utensil in her kitchen.
“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.
“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.
She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”
He hummed his confirmation, and she could feel his smile as she lathered the inside of the pan, then rinsed it, and finally drained the sink. She dried her hands on the kitchen towel and turned to face him. He didn’t remove his hands, instead just let them glide over her hips and then settle on her lower back.
“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”
“I could eat it every day for the rest of my life and be very, very happy.” He dropped his gaze and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Speaking of moms, I… I was wondering if you, um— if you’d want to meet my mom?”
Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”
She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”
Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.
“I’ll check in and visit for a few minutes, try to gauge what kind of a day it is, and then I’ll text you to come in or not.” He ran a hand over his face. “I really should have had you drive separate, because if it’s not a good day I don’t want you to have to wait around while I visit with her, but she’s been having a lot of good days recently, and—”
“Honey.” She found his hands where they were clutching a little aggressively at his leg and covered them with her own, running her thumbs soothingly along his skin. “It’s okay. Either way— whether I meet her today or we wait for a better day— it’s okay.”
He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”
“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.
He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”
“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”
“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”
She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”
Spencer dropped the keys into her hand and then climbed out of the car, closing the door and practically trotting toward the building. She would have laughed if it weren’t for the raging anxiety that was nearly suffocating her. She opened her door and put her legs out the side of the car, taking a deep breath and looking out over the parking lot.
Y/N knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?
She loved teaching kindergarten, and she was the first to defend the profession in most settings. But she was about to be in a room with two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would possibly have to contribute. More than that, what would Diana Reid think of her son settling for someone so… ordinary?
Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.
Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.
Y/N turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.
The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”
“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Y/N began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”
“Ah, yes, you must be Y/N. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Y/N wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”
Y/N mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.
And now she had a moment of panic, wondering if maybe it was too on the nose, or if Diana would think it was silly and immature. She briefly considered turning and heading back out to the parking lot, but then Spencer appeared in the doorway to the sunroom, waving his thanks to Suzanna and then positively beaming at her . How could she deny him this?
He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, instantly more at ease from the simple touch. He pulled her gently into the room, and there was Diana, perched on a floral sofa and looking quite elegant in a soft purple shawl.
She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Y/N watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.
“Y/N,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Y/N returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”
She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Y/N saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”
The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Y/N folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.
“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Y/N nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”
Y/N laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”
“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Y/N with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”
Y/N felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”
“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.
“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.
“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple , I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Y/N. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”
“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Y/N’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.
Diana smiled brightly at her. “Your students must absolutely adore you.” Diana gestured vaguely to Spencer before continuing, “Spencer loved his kindergarten teacher— hm, Mrs. Hudson, was it?”
Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Y/N with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”
Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Y/N laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”
“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Y/N shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Y/N agreed.
“Oh,” Diana tapped Y/N’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”
“ Mom ,” Spencer choked out.
“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Y/N begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”
Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”
Y/N turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”
“Did you figure out the trick?” Y/N asked.
“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”
“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Y/N. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”
“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.
Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Y/N could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Y/N. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit .”
“A classic in its own right,” Y/N said.
Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”
“I love Ferdinand!” Y/N gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”
Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”
The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Y/N was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.
Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Y/N’s home, her family, and most of her interests.
Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Y/N found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.
It was the happiness that scared her.
She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy — was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.
This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.
“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Y/N’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”
The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”
She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”
Y/N watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”
Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”
It was quiet for a long moment, and then Y/N stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Y/N clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”
Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Y/N returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”
Y/N blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.
With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Y/N excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.
Spencer emerged from the building, his hands in his pockets. He quickly made his way to the vehicle, practically running across the parking lot and sliding behind the wheel. Before she could even say anything, he was surging across the console to grab her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss.
She steadied herself with her hands on his chest, clutching at his shirt and returning the unexpected passion with a slightly bewildered smile. When he was finished, he pulled back to lean their foreheads together. She caught her breath and asked, “What was that for?”
“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”
She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”
He leaned into her for a minute longer, breathing into her hair and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. Then he pulled back, smiling widely. “How would you feel about meeting the other family?”
Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Y/N leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.
Spencer held the door open, trailing in behind her with a hand on her waist. She spotted Penelope’s bright green dress immediately, and Spencer raised his hand in greeting. The group gave them a raucous cheer, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.
Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Y/N, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.
“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute ,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Y/N’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”
Y/N laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”
Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Y/N. “What’s your poison?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Y/N insisted.
Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”
“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.
A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Y/N. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”
She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Y/N’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.
She learned that Tara had a doctorate in forensic psychology, and Emily had worked internationally for years becoming the Unit Chief of the BAU. Luke had been an Army Ranger and a member of the Fugitive Task Force, and Matt had traveled the globe with the International Response Team.
They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.
She did her best to steer the conversation back to the team whenever possible, which in some ways made the whole thing worse. But she managed to keep a smile for the evening, and she lost track of how many drinks made their way down the hatch. Luke ordered an assortment of snack foods for the group, and she gratefully accepted a few fries and a mozzarella stick to soak up some of the alcohol sloshing around in her stomach. At some point Spencer returned from the bar with an extra glass of water, sliding it her way with a knowing smile and a press of his lips to her cheek.
Eventually, Y/N had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.
She raised her head to analyze her appearance, groaning a little at the smudge of mascara under her eyes. As she swiped at the black rings, she considered that she had never quite figured out the ideal amount of alcohol— somehow always managing to get a little too drunk. And now she was too drunk in front of all of Spencer’s friends— his family.
Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary . Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring . Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.
She closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over, remembering the last time she’d cried in a bar bathroom. She’d spent that evening wondering what was wrong with her… wondering if she deserved to have someone like Spencer at all.
“That’s just… the alcohol talking,” she reminded herself out loud into the empty bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Stop bein’ a weirdo.”
She pushed out of the bathroom and back into the bar, walking a little more cautiously as the alcohol started to course through her bloodstream. As she approached the group again, Spencer’s eyes found her immediately, and he reached for her, pulling her underneath his arm and into his side. He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just—” She slid her hand around his waist to keep herself steady. “Just more tipsy than I thought.”
He ran a soothing hand along her arm. “Do you wanna go home?”
She shook her head. “No, no— ‘M fine. ‘S nice to be with your friends.”
“You’re sure?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because honestly I’m kind of ready to go.”
She looked up from where her head was resting on his chest to see him smiling softly at her. “Whatever you want.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned back to the team and cleared his throat. “We’re gonna head out.”
Tara made a show of checking her watch. “10:45? I’m surprised you stayed this long, old man.”
Y/N’s eyes opened slowly and came into focus as Spencer’s car came to a stop outside her apartment. “Why’re we here?”
Spencer shut off the ignition and pulled out the key with a small smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to feel… less than stellar tomorrow. I thought you might like to wake up in your own bed. Hang on.”
He climbed out of the vehicle and closed the door before coming around to her side. She could feel the tears welling up as she fumbled with the buckle on her seatbelt. Everything was a little uncoordinated, and she felt absolutely ridiculous.
The door opened, and she carefully swung her legs out one at a time. Spencer stood slightly to the side, and she knew she should hurry up and let him get home, but she didn’t move to get up.
“Do you need help?”
She shook her head, and the action sent a tear rolling over her bottom lash line. She tried to swipe it away, but of course Spencer caught it.
“Hey— what’s wrong?” he asked gently.
She sniffed. “Are you just dropping me off?”
He cupped a hand underneath her chin to tilt her eyes upward, and his eyes were soft but concerned. “I was planning to come upstairs with you. Unless you don’t want me to.”
She shook her head. “No, I— you can come upstairs.”
“Okay.” Spencer cocked his head. “Honey, what’s going on?”
Y/N didn’t know where to begin. She was drowning in self-doubt— had been since about the one month mark. It seemed that every day there was something new to feel insecure about. The confidence she’d had on his doorstep in March was nowhere to be found.
That was too much for her slow moving brain to articulate at the moment, so she settled on: “They’re all so smart and funny and cool and interesting.”
“Okay…” he prompted.
“And I’m not,” she admitted.
His mouth turned quickly down. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I’m just— a kindergarten teacher and I— I don’t have any cool skills or stories, and I don’t even have any muscles, and they’re all so pretty —”
“Hey, stop— stop.” Spencer squatted down to be eye-level with her. “First of all, you’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re my favorite kindergarten teacher and the best one I know.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “You have lots of cool skills and stories. And I don’t have any muscles either.”
She lifted her free hand to squeeze his bicep. “Yes, you do.”
“Muscles are overrated.” He smiled and brought a hand to her face, smoothing her hair back and then letting his fingers linger on her cheek. “And frankly, pretty is too mundane a term to describe you. I’d go with something like radiant, or ethereal, or incandescent.”
“You have to s‘plain your jokes to me,” she slurred, swiping her forearm under her nose.
“Not always. And besides, I have to explain my jokes to basically everyone,” he reminded her. He squeezed her hand. “But unlike everyone else, you let me explain them to you. And you actually listen to the explanation.” He shrugged. “I think I like that more than I like telling the joke.”
She was quiet then, eyes focused on a particularly interesting piece of loose gravel. She knew the list of her flaws was longer, but her brain couldn’t string them together in her current state.
Spencer shuffled closer and waited patiently until she finally looked at him before continuing.
“I love you. And not because of your job, or your cool stories, or your muscles,” he clarified. “I love you because you’re you. And, a little selfishly, because I love the person that I am when I’m with you. Okay?”
He smiled tentatively, and she let out a long breath. “Okay.”
He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”
Spencer helped her navigate up the walkway and the three flights of stairs. Rather than rummage drunkenly through her purse, she passed it off and allowed him to retrieve her keys and unlock the door.
He supervised and provided balance support as she haphazardly swiped a makeup wipe over her face and fumbled into her pajamas. Finally he got her settled into bed with a bottle of water on the bedside table.
He pulled up the covers around her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he murmured.
This was the moment that he’d realize what an absolute fool she was. He’d finally be alone in the bathroom, and it would become abundantly clear that she couldn’t drink responsibly, that she was boring, that she was obnoxious. She was sure of it, and her heart was fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces.
Spencer’s nervous laugh broke through her haze of insecurity. “Whoa, I thought we were done crying?” he joked. “Honey, c’mere.” Spencer pulled her up into his arms, rubbing a hand over her back.
She hadn’t realized she was making any noise until the sound vibrated against where Spencer had tucked her into his shoulder. As if she hadn’t been foolish enough tonight, now she was blubbering into his nice cardigan. Despite herself, she clung to him like he’d disappear like smoke between her fingers.
“I’m— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed; it’s not funny,” he apologized. “Shhh, sweetheart . It— it’s okay, it’s okay .”
“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice was full of tears and cracked pathetically at the end.
“Okay, okay,” he agreed, a tinge of confusion in his voice. “I’m— the bathroom can wait, I suppose.”
That only made her cry harder, which poor Spencer responded to with even more aggressive soothing. He stroked over her hair and hugged her tight, shushing her and rocking her a little bit back and forth.
He was just so sweet . Kind and thoughtful and considerate— three things she hadn’t experienced from a significant other in a very long time. And it was exhausting waiting for the shift— for the moment that he realized she wasn’t worth the hassle. She was so tired of anticipating the end.
“I don’t want you to leave.” She hated how ridiculous she sounded, gasping and hiccuping.
Spencer froze for a full second and then squeezed her impossibly tighter. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not. I am right here.” He stroked a firm hand up and down her spine. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me. I’m gonna do it, too, okay?”
He led her in a series of deep inhalations and long exhales to the rhythm of his palm on her back. He murmured quietly to her, reassurances and promises and love. As her breathing came closer to normal, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
“I love you, Y/N. You know that, right? I wouldn’t change one single thing about you.” His hand on her back slowed to a stop, and she could practically hear him considering his next move. “I’m pretty sure Billy Joel wrote a song about it, actually. I love you just the way you are. ”
She couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in her throat at the tone deaf melody, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Okay?”
She wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t his fault. She sighed and sniffed. “Okay, off brand Billy Joel.”
“That’s not very nice,” he chuckled, pulling back to swipe his fingers over her damp cheeks.
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I love off brand. Just as good as the real thing, and with some fun quirks.”
“Somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate the comparison.” He smiled softly at her, and then his expression melted into something a little more serious. “But I mean it. There is no place I’d rather be, and no one else that I wanna be with. When I say that I love you the most, I mean that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. Ever.”
He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to cry all over again. How was he so wonderful, and gentle, and loving, and perfect ? He’d promised to do better on a chilly night in January and then spent every single day since then doing exactly that.
“But I actually do have to pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”
He was speaking to her as he would a child, and she was utterly mortified. She waved her hand. “ God , I’m bein’ so annoying.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a little drunk. And a lot adorable.” He tapped gently on her nose. “But you’re also kind of sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.” He propped the pillow up behind her. “It’ll be the fastest pee ever— four minutes, tops. Most of it will be hand washing. Okay?"
“Okay,” she smiled, and she really meant it.
He hopped up and trotted to the bedroom door. “See you in four minutes. Have some water while you wait.”
She followed instructions, sipping carefully from the bottle he’d left for her. She also rummaged through the bedside drawer for the Advil, popping two and washing them down with another swig of water.
Spencer returned to the bedroom with his cardigan and pants already discarded. He quickly slipped out of his button up and into his pajamas before sliding in beside her and holding out his arms. “All right, c’mere.”
“Hmm?” she hummed.
“I’m demanding snuggles,” he clarified. “That’s the price you pay for my chauffeur and caretaker services.”
Another smile slowly turned up the corners of her mouth, and he returned it, pulling her against his side. “There she is.”
She allowed herself to settle and melt into his warmth, the soft fabric of his t-shirt under her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. She willed herself to stop waiting for the shift. She begged herself to stop looking for the end.
Maybe this time there wouldn’t be an end. Maybe she could have an infinite middle with Spencer Reid. Maybe she had earned that.
———
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ghostdrew22 · 4 years ago
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Can I request a draco x reader where they just stay together all day even tho its a school day so they just like skip school all day and then one of their friends catch them? It probably sounds confusing but I LOVE YOUR WRITING
Where Words Fall Short || Draco Malfoy
So I changed it into a teacher catching them instead, I hope it still suits your fancy. Thank you so much for this request, I had quite a nice time writing it <3
Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness? Idk what I should be warning you against in this one tbh so if you find anything then let me know <3 Summary: Draco is having a hard morning so Y/N keeps him company and they ditch lessons.
WORDS : 2114
~~~
Growing up, Draco continuously watched as a curtain was drawn above the topic of mental health in his household. What should’ve been long, informative discussions about his withstanding family history and hereditary struggles with mental health, was broken down into, “Your father just gets a bit overwhelmed sometimes”, and “Your mother is a woman, and as women do, she often gets erratic until she tires herself out.”
None of it was true, of course, just excuses used to try and avoid the problem. But it wasn’t discussed. Not when Narcissa would sleep for days on end, or when Lucius was hospitalised, and especially not when Draco began to display symptoms similar to his parents. The family healer was called in, Draco was diagnosed and medicated, and it was discussed no further. Because words were just not the Malfoy way.
You’d long become accustomed to his habits when he wasn’t feeling well, he’d told you himself about his struggles, and you’d adjusted quickly enough. Now you know, just by the sight of him, when he’s having a rough day. As hard as Draco tries to follow in his parent’s footsteps and draw a veil on his suffering, he just can’t bring himself to do it when you’re around. You make him feel safe.
You read the watch on your wrist, 8.10am, and sigh when you notice that Draco’s still not in the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco prides himself on being organised and punctual, so when he’s even five minutes late to breakfast you know that he’s having one of those days and he might just not get out of bed.
“He’s just running late this morning, I watched him walk to the showers.” Crabbe says beside you as he notices worry etch its way onto your features. You nod and smile at him.
“Thanks Crabbe.”  You respond before grabbing the empty plate on your other side and filling it up with Draco’s favourites.
It’s another ten minutes before Draco finally walks into the Great Hall, and you feel your heart wrench at the sight of him- hair still wet from showering, faint bags beneath his eyes and a solemn look painting his face- he looks exhausted. You smile at him when he settles into the space beside you and he smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He interlocks your fingers together as he sits down and you slide the plate of food toward him. He kisses the back of your hand as a thank you and you nod before turning back to your own food. On mornings like this conversation is sparse- it’s like a useless chore that you can both afford to forget- and you both resort to actions as a means of conversation.
Normally, words would be spent on endless declarations of love, confirmations of support, queries of comfort and insurmountable pleas to just sit in silence together. But now, now with this routine and understanding that sits comfortably on the border of your relationship, words no longer need to transpire between you both in order for there to be a mutual understanding of what you both need.
Most kisses are ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’, but every so often when Draco paints every square inch of your face in adoration with his lips, then he’s telling you that you’re beautiful, that every piece of you is just another reason for him to fall deeper into love with you. Hugs are usually him begging for attention, trying discreetly to drag you away from whatever it is that you’re doing and bring you down to his dorm with him for cuddles.
But Draco’s preferred method of communication on days like this, is squeezing your hand. Information by hand squeeze increases in degree; one is ‘I’m fine, just tired’, two is ‘I’m probably going to disappear halfway through the day for some alone time’, and three is ‘Please spend the day with me’.
So when you feel that familiar pressure against your hand come in waves of three that morning, you know that he’s having a particularly bad day. You turn to him and nod, and this time when he smiles at you, it actually does reach his eyes.
~~~
When the first lesson of the day is underway, Muggle Studies, you and Draco are lying in his bed in his shared dormitory. There’s a risk of one his roommates coming back to collect a forgotten book or leftover homework, but it matters little when the two of you are spaced out in the small world of your own invention. You’re running your hands through his hair as his head sits comfortably on your chest, and his fingers are running up and down your other arm in an effort to keep him occupied.
The two of you spend the next few hours like that, just lying in his bed in silence as Draco thinks himself into oblivion and you try to calm him down. It doesn’t work though, and at some point you grow frustrated at the amount of tension that he’s built up in this shoulders, and demand that he gets up.
“Why?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows as he lifts his head off of your chest.
“Do you trust me?” He nods, and you smile. “Good, then come on.”
You pull him behind you quietly as the two of you roam the castle and head toward the Astronomy Tower- trying desperately not to arouse suspicion and get caught skipping lessons just as the day is ending.
When you reach the top and see that the sun is shining faintly, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. All that cold and darkness in the dungeons wasn’t good for Draco and you’d lugged him all the way up here for some sunshine. You know that it won’t really fix anything that’s bothering him, but at least the Vitamin D might lift his spirits a little bit or help him to relax a tad more.
You sit on the ground and pull Draco down to sit beside you. He drops his head against your shoulder and pulls the back of your hand up to his lips, Thank you, is what the action says and you smile at the small acknowledgement. You lean your own head against his that’s resting on your shoulder and he shuts his eyes in content as you pull out the book that you’d brought up to read.
“Should I read to you?” You ask and he nods very softly, so you do as he asks and begin to read the novel out loud.
It’s mundane, sure, but Draco thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. When words have always failed him, you’ve been there to pick up pieces of his unsaid ministrations. Most people, if not all the people in his life, have always found his failure to conjure up words and describe his feelings, annoying. But not you, never you, you have always loved the way he tries so hard to show you his love instead of tell it to you. Whenever he feels torn apart, like a rag doll being tugged on both arms, you somehow manage to remind him that he’s made of skin and bone, not cloth and plastic. It’s you that reminds him he’s worth something, even when he feels as though he’s worth nothing.
“Y/N.”
“Hmm?” You respond absent-mindedly as you turn your head slowly away from the pages and toward Draco. When you catch a glimpse of his contorted features, concern washes over you. “What’s wrong? Do you want to go back inside?”
“No, no.” He shakes his head softly and smiles at you. “I just want to chat, is that okay?”
“Well… I was enjoying this book…” You tease and laugh when you see that he’s not amused. “I’m kidding, am’ all yours love.” You peck him on the lips quickly before closing your book and putting it aside.
He sighs, “I’ve been thinking-”
“Oh, that’s never good.” You immediately respond and he narrows his eyes at you which makes you laugh, “Okay, I’ll stop now.”
“You’re lucky I love you.” He says with a roll of his eyes, and a small smile, before he takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m going off my meds.”
You take a moment to digest what he’s said before nodding slowly, “Oh…”
“Oh…?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation, worried that you won’t support his decision. “Are you mad?”
You’re taken aback by his question and turn to face him in confusion. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know, mother was furious when I told her.”
“Okay, but your mother is notorious for having the emotional range of a green bean,” Draco, albeit begrudgingly, laughs at your comment with a shake of his head, “What? Am I wrong?” You ask with a laugh as well.
“You’re not wrong but that’s not the point. You’re bloody rude!” He tries to stop laughing but it’s not working and soon enough the two of you are rolling around on the ground, crying your eyes out in laughter.
After a good three minutes has passed the two of you have finally calmed down and the serious atmosphere has returned. “I’m not mad Draco, I could never be mad at you.”
“You were mad that time I tried to force a Ravenclaw to do my Muggle Studies research for me.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone and you shove him lightly.
“That was because you were harassing that innocent child!” You exclaim with another giggle, “I’ve never been mad at you for doing something that involves only you.”
“What about when I dyed all my pubic hair-“
“I told you never to speak of that.” You cut him off sternly before he can continue and a naughty smile appears on his lips at the memory.
“That was funny, admit it.”
“We were on vacation with my parents! Do you understand how awkward the conversation we had, after the swimming pool, was? They were so concerned about the fact that I’d brought home a boy with blue armpit hair!” You exclaim with wide eyes and Draco bursts into laughter again. “You’re such an arsehole.” You grumble out with a pout and he pecks you with a smile.
“You love me though.”
“I do… I really do.” You respond genuinely as you stare at him in admiration. Even on his worst days, when exhaustion wears his face like a mask and words fall short from his lips, he’s still the love of your life and nothing can change that. “I’m really proud of you, for making a decision like that.”
“Thank you.” He sighs and you can tell how much this has been bothering him over the past few days, if not weeks, by the way his shoulders finally relax. “I just don’t think they’re doing what they’re meant to. I don’t feel any better.”
“Mhmm.” You nod at him to continue as you take his hand in your own.
“I don’t feel worse either though, I feel the same. It’s been a year and I feel the absolute bloody same.”
“What are you going to do instead?”
“Whatever else the healer recommends.” He shrugs, “If she’s got nothing else that will work then I don’t know.”
“Well… I’m here for you, always.”
“I know.”
And it’s true, he does know, sure as he knows that he’s a Slytherin. There aren’t many things and people that Draco relies on, the fear of them letting him down always a barrier, but you he puts his absolute faith in. Because when words fall short to describe the amount of love that he has for you, and the amount of love that you have for him, there will always be actions and you two will always have each other.
You take your hands and cup his face in them before peppering kisses all over his face. He giggles under your touch, an effect that you’ve always had on him and he hates, but you make no move to stop until every corner has been graced with feel of your lips. It’s every word that you could possibly say to him, every sentence that could hold the weight of your adoration, because sometimes, words just fall short.
“Y/N-“ He begins when you finally pull away, wanting to tell you that he loves you, but you cut him off with a dopey smile.
“I know.”
The two of you lie down against the cold, hard gravel- fingers intertwined as you both shut your eyes and bask in the soft rays of sunlight. It’s almost perfect.
Until.
“Mr Malfoy, Ms L/N.” A voice drawls.
“Shit.” You mumble when you remember that it’s Wednesday- Astronomy.
<~>
Did I impulsively write this after declaring I’m going on a week’s hiatus to move? Yes. Did I put off packing for this? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Nope.
anyway,
love you all,
jean <3
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saynotoshityouhate · 4 years ago
Text
Taking Back Control
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Summary: Bucky’s owning his traumatic narrative and taking his life into his own hands. I’m not sure his therapist would approve. 
Word Count: 1,549
Tags/Warnings: Poor stress relief tips, Mind Control, dom!bucky, trauma, therapy, oral (male receiving), facial (not the kind you get at the spa), aftercare
Bucky had texted you as he got ready to leave the office. 
I’ll be home in thirty minutes. Prepare yourself. 
You had been eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch, still in your PJs, when your phone chimed. “Fuck!” You read the text and scrambled to stand up. You rushed to clean up your mess from earlier before jumping into the shower. He expected you to be squeaky clean before he’d lay even his mechanical hand on you. You also set up your aftercare supplies, making it as easy for Bucky to take care of you as possible. With nervous excitement, you put on his favorite lacy, black lingerie that made you look like a sexy assassin. It was sorta his thing. 
Bucky got into his blacked out Mercedes and raced home. He had a really difficult day at work and knowing he’d be able to see you and have some control over something today was already providing him with some relief. After “graduating” from Wakanda and his Winter Soldier related trauma, he sought to take life into his own two hands - especially the vibranium one. He began learning the science behind mind control - similar to what was utilized on him. You two had been dating for two years at that time, and looking for a way to spice things up in the bedroom. Bucky brought the idea of erotic mind control to you one night, explaining how everything would work, and why it was important for him to try as part of his healing process. He walked you through all of the ground rules and was open to hearing all of your questions and concerns. You loved him and were willing to try anything once. 
Well, one time turned into two, and two turned into three. Now, about a year later, you were going under once a month, for no longer than an hour. He was extremely protective of you, regardless of the pleasure it brought him. You noticed a difference in him, a calmness that wasn’t always present in stressful times earlier in your relationship. He was never hurtful towards you, of course not, but his coping mechanisms for the loudness in his head weren’t healthy either. This allowed him to take back his own narrative and process his internal struggles with you by his side. 
You resumed your movie, as if nothing had changed from earlier, the pint of Hunka Hulka Burnin Fudge almost empty. Nothing had changed other than your outfit and the butterflies in your stomach. Bucky liked you to be calm and relaxed before getting started - not anxious or uncomfortable. He found it to be easier to implement the triggers when you were more comfortable. 
Bucky pulled into the driveway, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and exited, walking towards the front door. He carried the stress of the day in his shoulders, draped in an exquisite blue suit and crisp white dress shirt. He had already removed his tie in the car, opening the top two buttons. He ran his hands through his hair before walking inside. 
Your eyes got wide seeing him walk through the door. You smiled at him, face turning to concern as he ignored you, kicking off his dress shoes and whipping off his suit coat. You could see the tension rippling through his back muscles underneath the white button down. He looked back at you and whipped his mechanical arm around, as if to stretch the shoulder joint in preparation. You sat up straighter at that, adjusting the lingerie that had shifted as you lounged on the couch. 
Moving his eyes over to you, his gaze softened as he looked you over. You really were beautiful, he knew that from the first time he saw you. “Ready?” He asked, giving you one last chance to back out of the evening’s activities. You nodded your head in agreement as he made his way over to you. “You know I need to hear you say it, doll. Use those pretty words of yours.” He looked down at you, one eyebrow raised sternly. “Yes, Mr. Barnes. I am ready.” You winked at him. He sat down next to you on the couch, taking both of your hands into his and looked directly into your eyes. His crystal blue eyes were hidden by the darkest black pupils, highlighted by bloodshot whites indicating his increased stress level. “I love you,” he stated clearly, squeezing your hands in punctuation. “I love you too, Buck.” “Alright, let’s begin.”
“Rain.” The smell of an impending rainstorm was one of your favorite things. 
“Fern.” The first gift Bucky got you for your birthday, when you thought you had a green thumb. 
“Crewneck.” The sweatshirt Bucky lets you wear to bed that smells like him. 
“Nashville.” Your favorite city in the world and first place you and Bucky went on vacation together. 
“Butterfly.” The tattoo on your right shoulder you got on a drunken night out in college. 
“Subway.” The place Bucky told you he loved you for the first time. 
“Doll?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, looking into your eyes to see if you were still awake. 
“Ready to comply.” 
Your body was relaxed, but at attention. You maintained your eye contact with Bucky, awaiting instructions. Looking at his wrist watch to note the time, he gave your hands a final squeeze. Standing up, he brought you with him. “Remove my clothing.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 
You dropped his hands and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You pulled it from his arms and shoulders before neatly folding it and placing it on the coffee table. You repeated this step for his undershirt before unbuckling his belt and placing that to the side. “Kneel,” he commanded. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Moving to your knees, you unbuttoned his dress pants. Moving the zipper downward, Bucky’s hips jutted forward with just the slightest touch of your fingers on his hardened length. You slid his pants downwards, and while still on your knees, you helped him step out of the pants and folded them as well. Placing them to the side, Bucky became inpatient. “Quicker movements, doll.” You snapped to attention. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, you ripped them down his legs, freeing his cock in the process. Bucky groaned as you resumed your folding and placing of clothing items. 
“Open your mouth.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Your jaw relaxed, and wasting no time Bucky moved himself into your warm, salivating mouth. Bucky moaned, his head lolling back. He absolutely loved this feeling. He moved his hands to the back of your head, gently moving you in time with his hip thrusts. You gagged, eyes watering and saliva pooling in the corners of your mouth. Even under mind control, your body wasn’t made to handle his size and strength. “Play with my balls,” Bucky grunted, sensing he was getting close. “Yeff, Merrr Brunss,” you replied, mouth too full to clearly speak but still following your directives. You moved your right hand underneath him, feeling for his warm, tightening balls, which you kneaded and squeezed. “Fuuuuck yes, doll, you feel so good,” Bucky moaned, his hips stuttering with the new sensation. 
“Prepare yourself.” Bucky growled the command. Mumbling your acknowledgment, you moved your hand from his balls and placed them on your thighs. You sat back on your heels, his cock falling from your mouth along with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. You leaned your head back slightly, closing your eyes and keeping your mouth open. Bucky moved his mechanical hand up and down his shaft, gazing with hazy eyes upon his compliant, beautiful doll. How did he possibly get so lucky to have a woman like you to love. And with that thought, Bucky groaned, painting your face with his load. You stayed still, waiting for your next direction, despite the cum dripping into the corners of your eyes and falling from your chin onto your chest. 
Bucky looked at his watch. It hadn’t been an hour yet, but he was already exhausted from the day. He was ready for you to come back to him, the real you. Bucky reached over to the side table, where you had placed water and towels before he got home. He handed you a wet towel. “Clean off your face.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 
After wiping your face clean, Bucky lifted you to a standing position. Holding your hands, he walked you over to the couch, where he began reciting your trigger words in the opposite order. 
“Doll? Come back to me, doll.” You smiled up at him, his shoulders sloped downwards, a sheen across his forehead and chest from the exertion. “Hi.” Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply. “How do you feel, are you okay?” He held your face in his hands as he wiped away some leftover spend from your cheeks. “Of course, darling,” you replied. “I’m going to go wash my face. You get dressed and then we’ll have some dinner, okay?” He smiled and squeezed your hands again as you stood up to walk away. 
You chuckled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. He’d never find out you were never really under his control.
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choiwrites · 4 years ago
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kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)
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Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.
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When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.
He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.
"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.
You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.
"I though you quit?"
Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.
"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."
Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.
"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.
He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.
"What?" you croaked.
"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"
"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.
"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"
"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.
He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.
"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."
There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.
"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"
"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"
"Fine," almost tired in his tone.
And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.
Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.
Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.
He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.
"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.
"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."
"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.
He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.
"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.
"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.
"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.
"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."
Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.
What does he need this time?
And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.
He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.
"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.
"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"
You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."
In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.
"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."
You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.
"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."
The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.
On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.
Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.
No, you argued inside your head.
Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.
Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.
Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.
"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."
He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod?  God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.
He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?
"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.
"How was what?"
"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.
It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.
There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.
"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."
"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.
"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"
"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."
"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.
"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."
You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.
"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."
"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."
"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.
Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.
Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.
He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.
"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.
"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."
It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.
Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.
"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"
He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.
The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.
The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.
Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.
"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.
"Can you just get to it?"
He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."
You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."
He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.
You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.
"No, no. Nothing's wrong."
There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.
"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.
"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"
"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."
"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."
"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."
"What? Why?"
"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"
"I was looking for you last-"
"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."
"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"
Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.
"I am. Hey, are you okay?"
"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."
It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.
"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."
He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.
"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.
There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.
You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.
There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.
You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.
His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.
Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.
"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.
You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.
He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.
He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.
A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.
"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."
"What?"
Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.
"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"
"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."
You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.
"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."
But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.
He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"
In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.
He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body  sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.
"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.
"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.
"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."
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agerefandom · 4 years ago
Text
Golden Slumbers
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: regressor!Harry Potter, regressor!reader, caregiver!Fred Weasley
Words: 1,200
Summary: You wake up early and decide to bother your big brother, Harry. (Simple fluff in an established family with two regressors!) 
Warnings: cglre terminology, parental nicknames, gender-neutral reader, food, baby talk. 
(Author’s Note: I accidentally wrote this entire fanfiction without referring to Fred by name, but if you’re wondering who ‘Daddy’ is, it’s Fred!!) 
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It’s just before sunrise when you wake up, a dim blue light filtering through your curtains. When Daddy makes you go to bed early, you usually wake up before it gets light. Daddy won’t be awake for a few hours, since he stays up a lot later than you do.
Some mornings, you stay in bed and play silly games on your phone. Some mornings you’re all big and you make breakfast for Daddy and Harry! And other mornings, you go find your big brother to see if he wants to play.
You’re too restless to stay in bed, and you’re too little to make breakfast with the stove. Daddy always says you’re not allowed to wander around when you’re little, so it must be time to wake Harry up.
You scoot out of your bed, bare toes wiggling in the plush carpet that Daddy helped you pick out for your room. He was really nice when you and Harry moved in with him, and he let you both decorate rooms to stay in when you’re little. Your room has a bed with railings that can go up if you’re small enough that you might roll off the bed, and stuffed animals filling all the shelves.
Harry has lots of stuffies too, but he likes reading books. And his bed is even bigger than yours! Sometimes Daddy sleeps there if Harry’s having a bad night, and you can come and cuddle with them in the morning.
It’s a familiar hallway that you walk down, past Daddy’s room to the door marked with a wooden sign painted with Harry’s name. You have a matching sign with your name hanging on your door, splashed with the paint and glitter that the two of you used to decorate them. You remember Daddy had laughed and said he was happy he’d ordered such a big bathtub so you two could take a bath together and get all the paint off.
You push Harry’s door open quietly, tip-toeing inside. His curtains are thicker than yours, and it’s super dark in here. His clock projects the time onto the ceiling, along with swirling stars that move with the real constellations above.
The light from the hallway spills into the dark room from the open door behind you, faintly illuminating your brother. He’s asleep on his back, some of his hair caught in his mouth. His glasses are folded on the nightstand on top of the book Daddy read to him last night before bed.
It’s only three quick steps to the bed, and then you can flop down on top of Harry.
He wakes up with a shout, trying to push you off.
“Harry!!” you protest, deflecting his hands. “Wanna cuddle!”
“W’time s’it,” Harry asks groggily, trying to blink up at the projected time. It’s big enough that he can read it without his glasses, but his eyes are extra bad when he just woke up.
“Dunno, Harry, but I wanna cuddle!” You pull at the blanket, whining. Harry rolls away with a grumble, tossing the blankets over so you can climb under them.
It’s nice and warm in Harry’s bed, and for all his grumbling, he still wraps his arms around you as soon as you’re under the covers.
“Go back to sleep,” he tells you.
“No!!” You squirm in his grip. “Not sleepy cuddles! Wakey cuddles!”
“Shhhh.” Harry pulls you closer and tucks your head under his chin. You pout. Not fair, that’s what Daddy does when one of you is being too loud. Harry isn’t allowed to do that. Still, it’s pretty comfy tucked right up against his chest, his heartbeat under your ear. And the bed smells all cozy, like Harry and fabric softener and home.
Harry falls back asleep really fast, and he starts snoring a little bit, so you poke him in the side. He wakes up with a confused mumble, grabs your hand, and goes back to sleep.
Without your hand free, you kick your legs a little bit under the covers. Harry isn’t being very entertaining this morning. Maybe you should have tried to make breakfast after all.
Eventually, Harry’s soft breathing and the slow shift of constellations overhead lure you back into sleepiness. It’s much warmer in Harry’s arms than back in your own bed, and as the stars swirl above you, sleep closes over your head.
--
“What’s this? A cuddle party I wasn’t invited to?”
A familiar voice brings you back to consciousness, and you blink your eyes open with a yawn. Harry is shifting beside you, pulling one arm back from its place over your chest.
“Daddy?” you hear Harry ask.
“Good morning, kiddo.” Daddy sits down at the foot of the bed, patting your knee over the blankets. “Rise and shine, sleepy one!”
“G’morning, Daddy,” you reply, and then roll over on top of Harry. It’s too early.
“Come on, kids, it’s almost noon!” Daddy’s arms wrap around you, pulling you off your brother and into his lap, ignoring your whine of protest. It’s a lot colder outside the blankets, and you curl into Daddy’s chest.
“M’tired!”
“You were the one who tried to wake me up at six in the morning!” Harry says, accusatory.
“Wanted to play,” you pout.
“Well, you can play after breakfast,” Daddy says. “The pancakes are already on the table.”
“Pancakes?!” you and Harry say in unison, sitting up. You almost bang Daddy’s chin with your head as you shift upwards, and he avoids you with a laugh.
“Woah! Lucky I have a lot of practice dodging Bludgers, you’re a little battering ram this morning.”
“Sorry Daddy.” You fold your hands, properly chastised.
“That’s okay, kiddo. No harm done. Let’s get the two of you downstairs, yeah? Pyjama breakfast, that’s what I think.”
“Jammies breakfast!” You slip out of Daddy’s lap and bounce in place, excited. Harry is sitting up in bed, and you can see he’s wearing the Chudley Cannons shirt that Ron gave him a few years ago for Yule. You’re just wearing a onesie, with cute little cats all over it. Sometimes you like wearing onesies to sleep even if you’re not that little. And Daddy’s wearing his Cookie Monster pyjamas, which are the best. “Do the pancakes have choccy chips?”
“Mmm, some of them do! And there’s loads of whipped cream.”
“Yeah!!!” You want to be eating those pancakes right now immediately! Why is Harry taking so long getting out of bed?
You run over and grab Harry’s hand, pulling him up. “Come on, come on! Jammie pancakes!”
“I’m coming,” Harry laughs, reaching for his glasses as you continue to yank on his hand. “Wait, I gotta get these.”
“Harryyyyy!”
Daddy laughs at you, and ruffles your hair.
“That’s my little one. Wouldn’t know the word ‘patient’ if it jumped up and attacked your ear.” He pinches your ear out of nowhere, and you squeak, letting go of Harry to flap your hands at Daddy.
“Daddy! Stop!”
“Alright, I’m ready!” Harry grabs your hand and runs for the door. “Jammies breakfast time!”
“Pancakes!!!” you yell, as you follow your brother towards the stairs. Daddy makes the best breakfasts. Once the three of you are done at the table, there’s gonna be no leftovers if you have anything to say about it.  
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adhd-disaster-willie · 4 years ago
Text
you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 2/6
Chapter 1
Warnings: Swearing, mention of death (very brief, not graphic)
Notes: Yes it is six chapters now lmao
---
Alex is one month, 4 breakdowns, and probably $100 worth of coffee (even with his employee discount) into his first semester of college and more than prepared for his daily screaming into a pillow session. He stumbles into his dorm, but comes to a screeching halt as soon as the door closes behind him.
“You’re painting the walls.”
Willies spins around, narrowly avoiding falling off his step stool, and gives Alex a lopsided grin. “Wonderful observation,” he quips, hopping down with a paintbrush still in his hand.
“You- you can’t do that.” Alex gapes at him, dumbfounded.
“Ah, can’t I?” Willie raises his eyebrows, smiling. His cheeks are flushed and his hair has been haphazardly pulled up, flyaways falling to frame his face. Alex shakes himself from his reverie. This is not the time to be admiring Willie, idiot.
“No- that’s… that’s against the rules,” Alex says desperately. “The RA lives like, right next door.”
“He’s colorblind,” Willie reassures Alex. “And a homophobic asshole.”
“He’s- what? I…” Alex runs his hands over his face, breathing in deeply. “Okay. Okay. Uh, why are you painting the walls?”
Willie settles into the couch, humming thoughtfully. “I was working on that one essay but couldn’t focus because-” he waves his hands around his head vaguely, like that’s supposed to explain his thoughts. “-and then I remembered that there was a sale at Home Depot so here we are.”
Alex looks up at the wall, trying to ignore the anxiety clutching at his chest like mistletoe to a tree. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. “Why blue?” His voice comes out much less calm than he’d hoped.
“It’s my favorite color,” Willie replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m only painting that one wall anyway, the sale was just for the mini paint buckets. I think a pop of color is nice, y’know?” He jerks his hands in the direction of the wall, grinning.
“You’re gonna have us killed,” Alex states simply. “I’m gonna be expelled and have to crash at Julie’s again and I won’t have a college education and the band is gonna fail and I’ll be uneducated and living on the streets.”
“Woah, hey.” Wille stands up, face knitted with worry. He sets a hand on Alex’s shoulder, steadying him. “Dude, I didn’t know it would freak you out. Shit, uh, I can paint over it. Really, it was stupid and impulsive.”
Alex shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s just-” In for 4, out for 8, deep breaths Alex. “Just stupid anxiety, I’m overthinking.”
Willie tilts his head to the side slightly. “Yea? You sure you’re cool with it?”
And he really is… cool with it, at least sort of. Apparently there’s an override switch in his brain that makes it so of something makes Willie happy, Alex can’t help but be okay with it. Huh. That’s new.
“Um…” Now that his brain is less foggy, Alex is realizing that Willie is like… really close. “Uh, yea. Just… don’t go painting any murals in the bathroom.”
Willie laughs loudly, throwing his head back and bouncing slightly on his heels. Alex’s gaze rakes over his face, golden sunlight seeping through the window and dancing across Willie’s cheeks. There’s a certain comfort to the way the sun comes through the window each evening. Miraculously, their dorm is positioned in an odd way that gives them a west and east facing window; and the way the light drapes over Willie is different at sunset compared to sunrise. It’s looser, makes him look free and like he keeps the sun right in his pocket, only letting it out when Alex is near. Stupidly, Alex thinks he wouldn’t have much trouble forgiving any future bathroom murals. One month, they’ve known each other for a month and Alex is already waxing poetic about him. He scolds himself internally.
“Tell you what,” Willie starts, stepping back and gesturing vaguely. “I’ll buy you a coffee to make up for it.”
“Dude it’s like 5pm,” Alex reasons, but his resolve is already dwindling at the sight of Willie’s playful grin.
“And? It’s the weekend.” Willie tosses an arm over Alex’s shoulders, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “It’s just coffee.”
“Remind me what happened last time you drank coffee.”
Willie sighs mournfully. “We do not speak of the carnation incident.”
“Right,” Alex chuckles. “Okay. Fine. But no more painting the walls.”
“Aye aye captain!” Willie gives a theatrical salute before waltzing out the door with Alex at his heels.
5:30pm in late September means it’s just chilly enough to wear jeans instead of shorts and just sunny enough to see light slipping through the trees and grass. Willie seems to be a magnet for the sunlight, leading it in a subtle dance as they walk across campus. Alex follows the way his hair sways in the light breeze, painted in a sheet of gold and bronze, like it’s been dipped in a liquid campfire. He wonders if his heartbeat is synced to the rhythm of Willie’s feet, marveling at how each step seems to send a ripple through Alex’s entire body. It’s unfair, the way the evening sun makes everything seem softer and more poetic, and Alex thinks that he could write an entire song about the way Willie glances over at him with a teasing smile. In a- a friend way of course. Because everyone thinks about how beautiful their friends look while walking. Of course.
Willie turns to Alex with his head tilted slightly. His expression is frustratingly unreadable. There’s blue paint brushed across the bridge of his nose and his left cheekbone, like his skin is stained with bits of the sky and Alex has a weird urge to bring his hand up and brush it away, but also a weird desire for that paint to be there forever; it suits Willie. His eyes, shining amber in the light, glance over Alex’s face and Alex feels like he’s being put under a spotlight except Willie’s the only person in the audience. Willie finally speaks his mind, his voice gentle. “Your hair looks golden in this light”
Alex feels his entire face go pink and he almost squeaks “You can’t just say those things!” But his tongue seems to be caught in the back of his throat so he opts for a mortified smile before turning to focus on the sidewalk right ahead of him. Willie doesn’t elaborate, or pressure Alex into responding, and they lapse back into a comfortable silence.
It isn’t until they’re just outside the coffeeshop that Alex comes to what is probably a mildly important realization. Bobby’s working right now. Bobby, Carrie’s cousin who’s known Alex as long as Luke and Reggie have, occasionally plays with the band, and has been involved in too many conversations about a certain long-haired skater. Alex’s stomach fills with an unmistakable dread at this thought.
“Alex? You good?” Willie bumps their shoulders and shoots him a smile that’s soft around the edges. “You can just get tea if you’re that anxious about the coffee.”
“No,” Alex chuckles, attempting to mask his stilted breathing. “It’s fine, coffee’s a good idea anyway. I need to stay up and practice that one horrible drum solo my professor insists I perfect.”
“And you have to do that tonight?”
“Yea, the band has a gig on Sunday so Luke’s probably gonna lock me in the studio to rehearse all of tomorrow.”
Willie giggles bubbily, his eyes squinting in the way that makes Alex’s stomach flip. Alex opens the door and a stupid piece of his mind itches to grab Willie’s hand to pull him in. He doesn’t.
Alex likes his workplace. The lights are warm and drape like a blanket over the building, the walls are decked in posters and paintings and vinyls, the windows are clothed with too many plants to count, and the chairs are the type you can just melt into and fall asleep. If he was still religious, he’d thank god for the fact that he was able to score a job here instead of a stiff, concrete chain store. The place is owned by the sweetest middle-aged lesbian couple who like to bring their cats by and let Alex take home leftover food when he has the closing shift. He likes it, and finding a customer service job Alex enjoys is like finding a needle in a haystack. And yet, his whole body is buzzing with nerves. He loves Bobby, he does, but the boy is just as fond of teasing Alex as Luke and Reggie are, and of course Willie had to pick right now.
Willie’s grinning as soon as he processes his surroundings. “Dude you didn’t tell me this place was so cool!” He grips Alex’s forearm excitedly and Alex’s entire brain just… short circuits. He’s sure Willie’s gushing about the mural on the back wall, because he has the awestruck and giddy expression he always gets when talking about art or skateboarding, but Alex’s brain is not registering a single thing Willie says.
Alex hears a loud and deliberate cough and is swiftly pulled from his mind, realizing three things: He is blatantly staring at Willie with a smile he doesn’t even want to see, Willie is still holding onto his arm and rambling, and Bobby is looking on with an expression that tells Alex that there is most certainly a new picture on his phone that will make for wonderful blackmail material.
“Alex, who could this be?” Bobby asks, and of course he’s the one with a scary good poker face because Alex almost believes that he truly is clueless.
Willie lets go of Alex’s arm, a cruel trick of the light making it look like he’s blushing. He gives Bobby a wave. “That’d be me. I’m Willie, Alex’s roommate.”
“Oh!” Bobby smiles innocently. “The famous Willie!”
“Famous?” Willie cocks an eyebrow at Alex. “You talk about me, hotdog?”
“Hotdog?” Bobby gives Alex an expression identical to Willie’s, but laced with mischief instead of fondness. Alex has an inexplicable urge to flee.
“Let’s just get our drinks,” Alex squeaks, herding Willie up to the counter and sneaking a death glare at Bobby on the way over.
“Hmm, and what’ll that be?” Bobby asks, making a point to plaster on his customer service smile.
“Medium cold brew with cinnamon almond-milk foam for me and a medium green tea for Willie, decaf.”
Willie looks at Alex incredulously. “You know my tea order?”
“It’s- it’s all you drink!” Alex squeaks defensively, picking at the collar of his shirt because when did it get so warm?
Bobby snickers. “Okay, one pretentious-ass cold brew and a horribly boring tea.”
Willie goes to pay, chuckling under his breath.
“Your drinks should be ready shortly, by the way Alex, I like this one,” Bobby snickers.
“Oookay!” Alex blurts, dragging Willie from the counter in hopes that he didn’t hear the last bit of Bobby’s sentence. His cheeks are burning as he directs them to his favorite corner of the shop. There are two chairs nestled in the corner, partially hidden by a rickety bookshelf and a wall of plants that hang down and will occasionally brush against the chair’s occupant. In the mornings, the sun shines through in a way that makes the chairs perfect for curling up like a cat seeking warmth. Alex sinks down into the seat nearest to the wall with a contented sigh and shuts his eyes, humming softly. “This is my favorite chair,” he mutters, eyes still closed.
“Hmm.” Willie’s response sounds odd, so Alex cracks open one eye only to find Willie sat in the chair beside him, elbows on the armrest closest to Alex, his chin resting in his palms. He’s looking at Alex with his lips curled into an almost wistful smile and suddenly Alex feels awfully overwhelmed. “It’s a very nice chair,” Willie says, leaning back to relax his head against the cushion and swinging his legs over the arm rest. Alex almost mourns his gaze, but he quickly shakes that feeling. It’s silly.
A gentle breeze drifts in through the window, which is always open slightly at this time of year, when it’s not too hot and not too cold out. Alex’s nose wrinkles, feeling the plant hanging above his head dance across his face in response to the wind. He hears Willie giggle beside him and he whips around, definitely not pouting. “What?”
“You made a face,” Willie responds, gesturing to his own face and mimicking Alex’s previous expression. “It was cu- it was uh, funny.” Willie goes red for a split second, but Alex writes it off as the heat and is about to ask if he wants the window closed when Bobby comes walking up, drinks in hand.
“I’m obligated by contract to warn you, Willie, that Alex with caffeine past 3 is never a sight you want to behold,” Bobby says, handing them their drinks and pulling up a chair to sit across from them.
“There is no such contract,” Alex protests. “And you’re exaggerating.” He takes a sip of his coffee, glaring at Bobby from behind the cup.
“Maybe not a formal one.” Bobby turns to face Willie now. “Seriously, caffeine at night makes him emotional for some reason.”
“Liar!”
“No dog movies when Alex has coffee at night, he’ll be sobbing for hours, even if the dog lives.”
“Noted,” Willie says, laughing. Alex contemplates kicking Bobby.
“Hey Bobbers, remember that time when you tried jumping an electric fence half naked because you got caught sneaking into a pool at night to impress a girl?”
Bobby blinks, his expression uncaring. “You cannot embarrass me,” he says. “I have no shame whatsoever.”
“Of course you don’t,” Alex grumbles.
“Anyway, as I was saying, Willie-”
“We should get back before dark!” Alex interrupts. He grabs Willie’s hand and all but shoves him from the shop, shouting at Bobby the whole way to prevent him from saying anything more to embarrass him.
Willie looks up at Alex, clearly amused, and they begin the walk back to their dorm. “Bobby seems nice,” He says nonchalantly.
Alex groans loudly. “No, no he’s terrible. He is one of my best friends and I despise him.”
Willie nods, sipping his tea. “Your friends are all pretty cool.”
“Yea… yea they’re great.” Alex pauses, sighing. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. The streets, probably,” Alex snorts bitterly at the last bit. It doesn’t cross his mind that Willie hasn’t been filled in on this. He doesn’t want to get into it. Willie seems to get the hint, brushing the confusion from his face in favor of looking up at the sky.
“I’ve always wished I was better at landscape paintings,” Willie whispers, his tone practically reverent. “Some people can just… capture every detail and emotion in- in sunsets and what-not. And it’s- it’s insane!” He gestures wildly with his hands as he talks, tea threatening to spill everywhere. “I can do abstract just fine, it’s my favorite. But my landscapes are always so… bland. I wish I could paint the feeling behind it as much as the plain details.”
Alex has seen his landscapes, and thinks them far from bland, but he doesn’t say anything. Willie has a way of turning the most horrifically boring pieces into storms of color and emotion, and Alex thinks that each brushstroke holds a piece of his soul. But he keeps his mouth shut.
“The sunset is nice,” Willie says. “I love when the clouds are pink like this. My mom used to-” he laughs nostalgically, remembering something. “-she used to tell me stories about the clouds. They all had their own personalities and lives and families. She would sit at her easel, painting the clouds, and I would be at her feet just… absolutely mesmerized.” There’s a certain shine in Willie’s eyes that Alex hasn’t seen before; it’s bittersweet and sort of disconnected. “And somehow… somehow she could show the cloud’s personalities in the paintings. I wish I could do that. She was the one who made me love art; I remember when I got my first skateboard, I stayed up for hours painting the bottom and I was so proud of it. And after I grew out of it she... she hung it on the wall above the mantel and would tell everyone who saw it how awesome it was”
Willie’s taken on a new demeanor, and Alex realizes this is the first time he’s spoken about his parents. “She seems amazing,” Alex mutters, voice quiet like he’s afraid of breaking something.
“Yea,” Willie replies. “She… she was.” He lets out a shaky breath. Oh. “She was a single mom, I never knew my father, never had the chance to ask about him. She died in a car crash when I was 14, I’ve lived with my uncle Caleb since.”
“Oh. Willie I-”
“It’s fine. I miss her, but it’s been four years y’know? I’m not… shrouded in grief like I used to be.” He gives Alex a genuine smile to prove it, and bumps their shoulder together. “C’mon, we’re almost home.”
Home. Home used to be Luke and Reggie and Julie, now… now Alex isn’t quite sure. College still feels new and different, and he often feels like his doesn’t belong. His dorm doesn’t feel much like home, it feels like a hotel room, like he’s a guest. But Willie… Willie feels more like home than anything in that dorm. Willie and his stupid blue wall and his long rambling and loud laughing. Home is Luke and Reggie and Julie and Willie, and that’s completely and utterly terrifying to Alex.
---
Chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
Notes: This chapter was gonna be longer but I felt like that was a good place to leave off. I hope you liked it :)))
Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby
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Text
5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)
Chapter 4: A Date With Destiny
Read on AO3 Chapter 1
Word count:  2991
Tw: Food, Almost an innuendo, Fear of not being accepted for orientation
~~~
"I think I'm ready."
Logan looks at himself in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie. He hadn't gone super extra with his 'date' outfit, despite Roman's insistence to go big or go home. (Which wouldn't really matter, as Thomas is home right now, and therefore they wouldn't need to go very far.)
Just a few changes, to treat himself. The blue striped bowtie, obviously, some black dress pants, black socks and a black dress shirt instead of a polo. He also tried out a new shampoo, just for that extra self-care. That may sound like a fairly big change, but Roman looked uncomfortable when he presented the outfit.
Roman waves his hand about, diverting his eyes. "Ugh, whatever. You look great. I still think a full tux would've been a better choice."
"That would most likely be overdressing. I don't want to go into this date looking like a buffoon, now do I?" He retorted, slipping on his dress shoes. They're sleek and black, with a heel that gives him just that extra added height.
"Pfft, coming from the Nerdy Professor! You look like a buffoon all the time, I'm just doing you a favor."
"You don't think I'm ready like this?" Logan asks.
"You do. You're rocking it. No romo." Roman says, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"No... Romo?" He asks.
"Uh, yeah. Like... Uh, romantic. I invented it. Just now." Roman says, nervously fiddling with his sash.
"Oh." And if that doesn't feel like a metaphorical stab to the gut, Logan's not sure what it is.
Roman stands for a few seconds in silence, before looking away, into the mirror. "Now, go get your Daisy, Loguigi."
"That was a stretch, but thank you." Logan takes Roman's hand, squeezes it (he's sure Roman won't mind. He may think of it as a reassurance to calm Logan's nerves. Logan thinks of it as he wants to hold Roman's hand), and walks to the door.
"Logan-" Roman says before he can leave, and Logan turns back to him. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and seems to realize that Logan's waiting for him to say something. His hand reaches towards him, then recedes.
"Yes?"
"Good luck." He slumps, giving what seems to be an encouraging smirk. Logan nods, adjusing his bowtie once more, and strutting out of the room. If he had a cape, it would be flowing behind him dramatically, due to the sheer energy of his determination. Tonight is going to be the start of a big change.
"Alright Patton, prepare yourself for the strangest date you'll ever go on." He says in full confidence.
~~~
Patton sat at the dining table, feeling certainly awkward. Things certainly looked... Different. It was dim, mostly because the only light sources were an array of candles and a strand of fairy lights. There was a silky tablecloth thrown over the table, and a lovely bouquet of red roses in a glass vase as the centerpiece. There were also two glasses, and a bottle of red wine. Soft violin music played from an unknown source.
Usually this was something Patton would coo at. He always loved romance between people. Whenever Thomas and his boyfriends over the years hung out, it would be all he'd talk about. How happy he is for them. He'd even help Roman out with helping Thomas in his gestures of romance. It's true, Patton loved romance.
However, not when it was directed at himself.
He didn't want to be rude and leave, obviously. Logan set this up, and the last thing Patton wanted to do was break his heart beyond repair. He loves Logan as a friend, and he cares about him, and the emotions he barely lets himself show.
Patton twiddles with his thumbs, sweating quite a bit. He wonders what Roman has to do with this. He's certainly not also going to be here, unless this is a three-way date. That is unlikely, as there are only two chairs. Perhaps he's the wing-man? That would make sense, as he's much better in the romance category than Logan. But wait a minute, why would he help? Doesn't Roman-
"This is atmospheric." Patton gets pulled out of his thoughts by Logan standing there, looking at the decor. He takes a seat. Pouring himself a glass of the wine, he takes a big sip, before setting it down. "Patton, I have something to tell you."
Oh no.
Patton's sweating buckets now. "B-before you do, I just want to tell you that I respect you Logan, and that you're a very good person, and that I cherish the time we spend together, but I guess I haven't told you some very important information about myself, and I hope this doesn't hurt you too bad, it's that-" He takes a deep breath, about to spill. He's always been scared of this moment. Didn't he already tell Logan? Does he not believe in his identity? Patton opens his mouth to speak.
"You're aromantic. I know that Patton, and I respect that. Your orientation is completely justified and valid. I was going to tell you that this was not my idea. I do not harbor any romantic feelings for you, and I certainly don't expect you to either." Logan says, taking another sip of wine.
"Oh."
Well, that makes Patton feel much better.
"Then... Why are we here?" He asks, the nervous feeling replaced by confusion.
"Well..." Logan blushes as red as the wine. "I happened to be... Discussing my 'lack' of romantic feelings for... a side, which I realised was in fact a falsehood, and then that side happened to swoop in right after I realized, and mistook my presentation for being about you. Therefore, he decided to set us up."
The cogs in Patton's brain start to turn. He's not exactly known to be the brightest of the bunch, but he thinks he can decipher this one.
"Nm...Teh... Oh, it's Roman." He looks at Logan, who lowers his head into his hands.
"Yes. Yes it is." He admits.
"So, he doesn't know." Patton concludes.
"No, no he doesn't."
The words finally settle in, and Patton's face brightens significantly in a matter of milliseconds. "Oh my god! Logan! You like him!" He stands up, and jumps for joy. He twirls around the room a few times, and then pulls up Logan and gives him a hug. "I'm so proud of you kiddo."
"Thank you Patton. It certainly felt strange admitting it." Sighs, hugging him back. They break off soon after.
"Why didn't you tell him?" Patton asks, a little bit worried.
"I don't think I'm quite ready yet." They both sit down. "That's actually why I'm here. I was wondering if we could keep up a sort of facade for a while, until I'm ready to tell Roman. Obviously, we won't make anything official, but I could use your help, as I am not very skilled in this romance business, and we could use fake dates as a sort of counseling session. I could.. Use your help." Logan admits.
Patton is surprised, but delighted. "Oh! Well, thank you for telling me kiddo. I wouldn't mind helping you out." He pats Logan' shoulder encouragingly. "Do you... have a plan?"
"Not yet. I didn't want to start without you, in case I would need to scrap the whole thing." Logan takes another sip of wine.
“That’s absolutely A-okay. I don’t know if I’d be much help today though, cause this roller-coaster ‘date’ has really tired me out!” Patton says. (He’s never quite been put on the spot, and then given a plot twist like that one before. Oh wait, haha, he has.) He needs a bit of a mental break before he does any of that adultery thinking.
Logan looks around the room. “We aren’t on a roller coaster.”
“It’s an expression.” Patton clarifies. He sighs, adjusting himself on the seat. “I forgot that I haven’t come out to Roman yet. Or the others, for that matter.”
“You don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. There’s never a bad reason not to come out.” Logan assures him, finishing his glass of wine. “And if you ever need my help, I will be there to support you in whatever ways I can.”
“Alrighty kiddo.” He smiles, looking to the kitchen.
“Do we have any leftover cookies?”
Patton suddenly looks guilty. “Well… About that.”
“Patton.” Logan’s gaze snaps to him, surprised. “Last time I checked, there were at least five left.”
“It wasn’t just me! Janus had one too!” He pleads, stating his case.
“One? That leaves four.” Logan squints at him. “I wanted at least two more for myself.”
A light in Patton’s brain ignites, and he jumps up. “Oh! What do you say we turn this into a baking ‘date’ then??” He does over exaggerated quotations with his hands on ‘date’.
“Bake ‘date’ it is then.” Logan fixes his bowtie in steely determination, and they both make their way to the kitchen.
~~~
“How did the date go?” Roman asks when Logan returns to his room, a giant fluffy red robe draped over himself, face mask on, and nails in the process of being painted. He’s got some showtunes that Logan doesn’t know the name of playing from a vinyl record player, which is illogical, because he’s pretty sure the musical is modern and that they can’t play voices, but he doesn’t comment.
“It went surprisingly… Well. He told me he may need a few more dates to make a decision.” Logan lies, trying to put anything other than indifference in his voice.
“Oh.” Roman looks taken aback for a second. “That’s great Specs. I’m proud of you.” The shaky hand he was painting swerves off to the side, and nail polish gets all over his finger. He looks at it, sighs, and puts the brush back into the bottle.
“You know, it isn’t a good idea to paint your nails in bed.” Logan sits on the edge, (of his own bed. Strange how Roman didn't just go back to his own room. He’s quite the stark contrast, him and his items bright red in a sensible dull, midnight blue room.) and turns his torso to face him.
“But it’s so much more dramatiiic. Besides, you told me not to touch your desk, and I am a princ- uh, a man of my word.” He laughs a little nervous laugh. “Besides, I can just clean it up with the powers of magic.”
“That’s nice.” Logan says, distracted by Roman’s nails. He’s hiding the hand he messed up. On his non-dominant hand, he has masterfully done nails, red with golden designs, such as a crown on his middle finger, a flower pattern on his pointer, thumb and pinky, and on the ring finger there’s an ‘L’...
Logan gently extends his hand. “Can I see?”
“Oh, um, yeah.” Roman lets him take his hand. Up close he notices that the gold is sparkly. Certainly a touch that is in character.
“What does the ‘L’ stand for?” Logan asks, looking at him.
Roman seems to burst red in the face. “O-Ooh it means ‘Left’. I… Often forget which direction is which, so I put it on my nails to remember. There’s no second meaning behind it or anything. Not at all.” He smiles wide.
Now Logan suspects there may be a second meaning, but he does not comment. “Is it okay for me to see your other hand?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want to, I mean, it’s not nearly as good and it isn’t at all finished and I just made a mistake-”
“I didn’t ask if I would want to see it. I asked if you were okay with me seeing it.” Logan cuts his self-deprecating ramble off, assuring him softly. “I won’t look for the imperfections if you don’t want me to.”
“I…” Roman sighs and nods. “Go ahead.”
Logan takes Roman’s right hand gently with his own, and brings it close enough to inspect. It retains the same colors, but even with just the base red layer it looks a little bit less neatly done. The color extends past the cuticle, and you can see little bumps and imprints of things that accidentally touched the nail before it could fully dry. It wasn’t bad, per se, because those things could easily be fixed without removing the entire coating, but it probably seemed pretty bad to Roman when comparing it to his other hand. And then there was the streak, which was unfortunate but can be arranged.
“I can help you with this hand, if you’d like.” He offers, much to Roman’s surprise.
“Sure… But you don’t have to-”
“Preposterous. I want to help, and although I am not a master in the arts and creating designs, I happen to be a master duplicator. I believe Virgil described it as ‘cloning but like without the technology part and shit’. I even remade an exact duplicate of a frankly disgusting and creepy doll for Remus from scratch.”
“Oh.” Roman laughs softly. “Talented.”
“Yes. I am.” Logan says, internally giddy from the compliment. He uncaps the nail polish remover from a very fancy tray, where all the supplies are stationed on. “We just need this for the stain.” He takes a cotton pad, letting go of Roman’s hands to wet it, and recaps the bottle. He retakes Roman’s right hand, and lightly swipes the pad across the smear.
“You smell like baking.” Roman notes, barely over a whisper.
“That makes sense. We did some baking. Mostly me, and he kind of watched until they were ready to decorate.” He places the cotton pad in a little glass junk bowl on the tray.
“Are you sure he’s not just going to use these dates to make him cookies?” He says lightheartedly, tapping his other hand along to the sound of the music.
“Perhaps” Logan laughs a little bit. “Actually, I set aside a bunch for you. They’re in a bag, wrapped in a ribbon. That usually wards off everyone else from eating what’s inside for a few days, but do get to them before the fourth day because that’s often when Remus loses his patience.” He doesn’t admit that it was a spur of the moment decision, and that he felt like a lovesick fool setting aside those for him. He did admit that to Patton though, who chuckled.
“Mmm, thank you. What kind?” Roman asks, as Logan uncaps the red nail polish bottle and starts applying a light coat on each nail to even things out.
“Cranberry and White Chocolate Chip.” Roman’s favorite. That may have also been on purpose.
“Oh.” He says, and that’s where that subject of conversation ends. Logan continues applying the coating, then recaps the bottle.
“Alright, this will need to dry.” Logan guides his hand to a solid resting place. They sit quietly for a moment, only the sound of what he recognizes as Razzle Dazzle playing. It’s quite strange to have music in here. The rows and rows of dark-wood bookshelves, kept neat and clean, seem much brighter like this. His planning cork-board, with strings run around and pictures and notes in a neat order (along with the depressing sight of his calendar), looks less dull. Maybe it’s his mood. Maybe it’s just Roman.
“Logan?”
“Yes?”
Roman scoots over, without moving his drying hand. He leans in closely, looking just above Logan’s eyeline.
“Y-yes?” He squirms as Roman reaches with his dry hand to the top of his head. He shakes Logan’s hair, and he presumes it looks like a mess now.
“Flour.”
“What?” Logan asks, as he returns to sitting like he did before.
“You had flour in your hair. It was bothering me.” Roman informs him, pointing to his head.
“Ah.” They return to their silence.
When Logan determines the perfect time for the polish to dry, he uncaps the glittery gold nail pen. Using the other hand as reference, he copies the designs finger by finger, putting all of his concentration into it.
“And… We’ll put an ‘R’ here... ” He tries his best to copy the font of the swirly ‘L’. It looks pretty good, if he does say so himself. Which he does say out loud.”
“Yeah, it does. Thank you Logan.” He looks up at Roman, who smiles a very shy smile. He suddenly brightens, and jumps up, rattling the tray and scaring Logan. “Aha! I’ve thought of a perfect nickname! Holm Office Photopy Machine! I need to write that down.” He fumbles around, and then summons himself a very used-looking sketchbook. He stays standing on the bed, flipping through pages and then scribbling it down.
“That certainly is long.” Logan adjusts his glasses in surprise.
“Long like my- Sorry that was a strange thought.” Roman makes his things disappear, checks his nails, and then flops back down onto the bed.
“I hate to bother you, but at one point I’m going to have to sleep on here.” He watches as Roman unsticks his face-masked face from the bed in disgust.
“Why did I do that- Oh, yeah, sorry.” Roman gets up, looking guilty, and certainly not as fancy as he did before, fibres from the blankets stuck to his face mask and some of the mask still attached to Logan’s bed. Still, he’s got his stupid smile on his face, and that power stance. He’s…
“Wonderful.” Logan says under his breath as Roman’s turning to leave.
Unfortunately, he heard, and he turns back, confused. “Huh?”
“One earful.”
“Alright.” Roman looks perhaps even more confused, but turns back and sinks out, with a “Buh-bye Specs.”
When he’s out of Logan’s room, he snaps his fingers to rid of the mess (He left the tray there too. The nerve. The gall. He sends it to Roman’s room, and prays that it lands somewhere incredibly inconvenient just for revenge sake. He also keeps the record player, because he could use some music in his life) and prepares for bed.
Step 1: Complete.
~~~
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imaginesupply · 4 years ago
Text
Homecoming - Chapter Five
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(Gif’s not my own.)
Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.
Genres: Romance, drama.
Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).
Notes:
It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.
This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.
English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.
Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.
Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.
Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.
Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.
A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.
While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.
Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.
Chapter 5
Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.
Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.
Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”
His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”
“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.
“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”
Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”
“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”
Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”
“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”
Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.
Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.
"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!
"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.
"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.
Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.
The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.
"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."
"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.
Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"
"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.
She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.
"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”
Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!
"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.
"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"
Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.
Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."
This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.
Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.
"Oh shit!"
°°°
A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.
Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.
"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.
"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.
"And you are...?"
Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."
Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.
Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.
"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."
"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."
"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"
Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.
"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.
Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“
Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."
"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.
"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.
“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.
A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”
Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.
°°°
“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.
"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."
"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."
Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."
Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."
"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.
"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"
"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.
"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."
The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"
What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.
"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.
°°°
He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.
“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”
Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.
“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”
Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”
If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.
°°°
Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!  
“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.
With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”
“No, the charges were dropped.”
Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.
As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."
Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.
"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.
With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."
Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.
With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"
"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.
Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.
Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.
“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.
“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”
Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“
Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”
“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.
As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.
He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”
“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”
“Tenders and fries.”
Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.
Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.
Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.
Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.
“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”
°°°
There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.
°°°
@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​
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johnkrrasinski · 5 years ago
Text
So It Goes... 
full masterlist
Pairings: Rock star/Bassist!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)
Word count: 7,149 
Warning: fluff, SMUT! but mostly just me falling in love with bucky, really.
Summary: natasha romanoff aka your annoying roommate coerced you into the howling commando’s live performance at a divebar near your dorm. little did you know, it was going to lead you to the man of your dreams aka the charming rock star boy/bassist, james buchanan barnes.
a/n: this one’s written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​‘s “Little Darlin’s Mysteru AU” challenge. i chose band/rockstar au. here’s another love letter to bucky barnes because i love that man with my entire heart and every fic that i write about him is basically just me expressing my deep affection for this man. hope you guys enjoy this one cause i certainly do! also, rock star/boy band bucky is such a concept omg i’m in love
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You laid in your twin-sized bed as you heard the chirping sounds of the birds outside of your window. They were singing cheerily as if they knew what you were feeling and they were celebrating with you. It felt like you were in a Disney movie that you used to obsess over as a kid, where you are the lovestruck princess because you just met a handsome prince who swept you off your feet at first sight.
The birds outside of your window are your animal pals who swoon over you swooning and they spontaneously harmonize and dance to this newfound joy. You couldn’t resist the smile taking over your face. It was too early for you to be awake on a Saturday morning. You were always up by 10 AM. No more, no less. But it was currently 8.45 AM and you still had at least one more hour to get up and be productive.
But not today. Today, you were going to welcome this exhilarating sensation in your bones, and you were going to savour every second of it. Because you couldn’t shake away those baby blue eyes and that suave, boyish charm. The way, they electrified you by first glance and made you tremble when those pupils dilated. You could still feel the way his soft, plump lips hypnotized you last night. And the raunchy way he held you at the bar.
Even when all was said and done, he found a way to haunt you in your dreams.
And you didn’t mind one bit.
-
You were currently in the middle of a crisis due to your upcoming final week. If there’s any word to describe you as a college student, it would be ambitious. The idea of failing or getting less than B+ makes you go ballistic. You were an active student. You joined multiple organizations that expanded your social life. You got along with mostly everyone in your classes and you had your professors’ respect too for your excellent grades and polite manners.
But your lack of dating life irked no one else more than your roommate, Natasha. You loved Natasha with your entire heart, really. She was like a sister to you. You were an only child so you cherished her older sister role in your life. She was, in fact, several months older than you and she always protected you like her own. Starting from the asshole that broke your heart in high school, despite only knowing him through your story, to incessantly pushing you to stop being such a nerd and have more fun.
Natasha was the kind of woman you don’t wanna mess with. She was loyal, brave and quick-witted. She knows how to keep her GPA high, whilst also maintaining a fun social life. She managed to do it all so effortlessly. 
“C’mon, y/n! Just one night! You need to let loose and release all tension on your shoulders, baby. It’s good for your brain before finals start!”
“Noooo, Nat. Rock bands are not my thing and I’d have a higher chance of acing the tests if I study now, okay? Just go. Have fun without me and tell me how it goes.”
“But my boyfriend’s performing, y/n. And I want you to meet him! I promise they are really good. Even if you're not into the music, you can still go for the drinks, right? Also, they’ve got other cute members available so, you might find your own rock band boyfriend too if you go.” She winked. Her smirk was menacing.
“Ugh, I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend, Nat.”
“I know, but wouldn’t hurt if you do, right? Then we can go on double dates and have them write songs about us. Oh God, it’s going to be awesome.”
“Whoa, slow down. I haven’t even learned their names, yet and we are already discussing double dates?”
“Alright, let’s just start with putting on your sexy clothes and meet them yourself. Then we can move onto picking one gorgeous beast for you.”
“What makes you even think that they’d be interested in me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n. Have you never owned a mirror? You are a total babe. You just need to get yourself more action.”
“Ugh, I don’t know, Nat…”
“You are going. And I’m not leaving until you get up and put on something cool. I have patience, baby and I’m going to annoy you all night if you stay. What do you prefer? Going out and have fun and meet some cute boys or me annoying you all night so you can’t study productively.” She glared at you. Her tone indicated that there was no compromise.
“Alright, I’m going. But that’s only because I wanna meet your boyfriend, alright? Not because I wanna find a boyfriend or whatever stupid shit you’re thinking.”
“Yay!” She jumped in excitement. Her face was content with joy and satisfaction from succeeding in persuading you. “Alright, let’s dig through your clothes.” She started rummaging your shared closet and observed meticulously each one of your outfits. “Hmm… Let’s try this one!” She picked up a strapless black sequin dress that you hadn’t worn in forever. You didn’t even remember packing it up in your baggage and brought it with you to your dorm.
You began stripping yourself out of your oversized hoodie and high-waisted shorts. You didn’t feel embarrassed changing in front of Natasha, you had seen each other naked many times. You were roommates after all and sometimes, you just had to be comfortable with the fact that you had private body parts underneath and within the course of four years, eventually, you had to get used to flashing one another at some point.  
You put it on as you started to feel a little uncomfortable. You weren’t used to wearing skimpy dresses. Already wearing it for less than three minutes, you were constantly lifting the hem of the dress to prevent it from exposing your boobs and revealing your inner thighs. And the material felt itchy on your skin too. “Nat, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just wear a leather jacket and jeans.”
“Nonsense! You look bomb! Give your leather jacket and jeans a break, alright? Okay, turn around so I can see your behind.”
You twirled as she said, restlessly.
Tonight was going to be a longspun night…
-  
The air felt crisp against your skin, as the breeze swept through your freshly curled hair, causing a few strands shading your sight. You struggled to walk steadily in your 7-inch heels that belonged to Natasha because you didn’t have a pair of your own. You were cool with wearing ankle boots pairing them with a sparkly dress. But Natasha didn’t think it was a cute look.
“What? Boots and dresses don’t go along, honey. Oh my, you need a serious makeover!” She was derailed.
You eventually settled with a silk red dress with a seductively low cleavage on the front, exposing the globes of your breasts. You were already as uncomfortable as it is, this dress didn’t make it any easier to act normal.
So you had to endure walking in these deadly shoes of torture, whilst clad in nothing but a scanty material with makeup painting your entire face. Great. What had you gotten yourself into? Damn you, Natasha.
You and Nat were walking arm in arm to the bar where “The Howling Commandos” were performing. That’s the name of the band that Natasha’s boyfriend was in. They have been a group for 5 years now, they had been doing this since they were in high school. Clint and the rest of the members were several years older than you and Nat. As soon as they graduated, they decided that they wanted to keep making music rather than working mundane, dead-end jobs.
Yep, Natasha told you that much.
Clint and Nat had been dating for two years now. They rarely saw each other due to the band’s packed schedule. Although, they would FaceTime each other every night, talking about each other’s days. You heard it all, from their most disgustingly adorable flirtations, to the most inappropriate, not so PG-13 confession.
They would literally pretend to smooch one another through the screen when you were doing your homework or when you had your nose deep in a book. You’d try to cover your ears by putting on your earbuds and turning up the volume so you could give them privacy but also, you didn’t wanna hear them talking about what they wanted to do to each other if both of them were here.
You knew Clint well enough to not feel like you were meeting a complete stranger. Natasha would often tell you to say hi to him and she had told you a lot of wonderful things to Clint. Clint would often talk about the band too on the phone, how someone called “Bucky” would piss him off by stealing his leftover sandwich. Or someone called “Sam” would often interrupt their chat by reminding him that it was soundcheck time.  
“I gotta go, babe. Sammy’s not gonna stop yelling.”
“Aw, okay, tell the boys I say hi! Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
It’s like a daily podcast for you every night.
The dive bar where The Howling Commandos were performing thankfully wasn’t that far from your dorm. Natasha was super thrilled when Clint told them that they were going to perform here. They were finally able to see each other after a while, and because this was going to be their last gig until they come back with a new album, he said he was going to stay and spend some time with Nat.
You were happy for both of them. You’d never say it out loud but, a part of you was secretly jealous of their love. They managed to maintain such a fun, loving, and healthy relationship despite the distance and differences. Natasha once told you that she was never one to settle with a man for too long but, Clint changed the game for her. You smiled at the thought. They were genuinely in love. If you were to find yourself a boyfriend, you wanted the type of love that they had.
But not tonight. You were okay with being single. Just because a part of you wanted what Clint & Nat had, doesn’t mean that you actually need it or you’d die. You were too much of a goal-oriented person to be chasing over something that should come naturally. You had grown so comfortable in being alone, that you stopped desiring love so much. It wasn’t getting you anywhere. So you lived your life, being grateful for your friends and family. You invested your time in your education and passion. You were content.
When you arrived at the bar, the room was full with a crowd. You walked in with Natasha trying to make a space for yourself so you could walk through them. You could barely anything else due to the number of bodies blocking your view. Natasha held your hand as she took the lead and fought through the crowd to get to the front, where she could get the best view.
There was a blonde-haired woman standing on the front, so close to where the band were going to play. When Natasha slightly grazed her whilst trying to stand next to her, she didn’t look the slightest bit happy. She glared at Natasha as Natasha noticed. She glared back at her.
“Excuse me, there’s more space in the back, maybe you can stand there instead of cutting through the line.”
“Excuse you, miss. I’m dating the band’s drummer, so I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much. If you don’t like that, then the exit is right there.” She pointed to the door of where we walked in from.
The blonde woman rolled her eyes as she folded her arms against her chest. After you stared at her reaction, you realized that you actually know her. She was in the same social science class with you. You had never really talked to her because she often sat in the back and immediately left after the class was done, but you remembered her name. Her name was Dottie Underwood. Your classmates called her Dot. The ones that she liked anyway.
You decided to stay quiet and let it pass. It’s not like she even recognized you even if you start a chat with her. You don’t think it was a good idea either since she and Nat literally just snarked at each other. You directed your sight to the stage and waited for the famous Howling Commandos to appear.
One of the spotlights turned and highlighted a man walking on stage before he talked into the microphone at the centre. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a group of brilliant lads, that make all the ladies go feral wherever they go, and their showstopping music are going to make us sing and jump tonight. Please welcome, The Howling Commandos!”
The crowd roared with cheers, the sounds of their enthusiasm filled the atmosphere. Their claps were jovially in sync as four, drop-dead gorgeous young men stepped into the stage as their presence shifted the energy in the room.
The first one was a blonde-haired with breathtaking bone structure, forming a ridiculously handsome face. His hair shone under the spotlight like the sun amidst the clear sky. He had an amiable demeanour about him. His smile was gentle and welcoming. He waved to the crowd and stood directly behind the microphone.
The second one to walk in was a dark-skinned man with an undeniable charisma oozing out of him. He had a neatly trimmed beard that only added to his spicy appeal. His smile was radiant as he also waved the crowd. He stood on the left side of the stage, a couple of steps behind Steve who was apparently the lead singer.
The third one to walk in was Clint. He was everything Nat described him to be. Placid and nonchalant. His smile was amenable as he greeted the crowd. He walked directly to the background, where the drumset was placed. He sat down on the drummer’s chair as he picked up the sticks he was going to play with.
The last one to enter was a literal Disney prince coming to life. His prominent boyish charm completely bedazzled you. His blue eyes gleamed under the spotlight as they lingered on you for a second. He immediately shifted his gaze as he kept walking towards the right side of the stage, but you swore that when he caught you staring dumbfoundedly at him, you could see the flash of a quick smirk on his face.
He only nodded to the crowd as he confidently picked up the bass guitar that was previously placed on the floor and put on the leather straps around his neck. His eyes turned back to you as you found yourself still bluntly staring at him. Something about him just enchanted you. He had that boy-next-door charm about him but also, a bad boy persona that was irresistibly enticing.    
That flash of smirk that you saw earlier resurfaced and it was getting harder for you to pay attention to anyone or anything else in the room other than him. His gaze grew more intense as the noises of the crowd faded into the background. You were lost in this lethal game of eye contact until Natasha accidentally elbowed you by screaming her lungs out to respond to the lead singer’s introduction.
“Good evening, SHIELD’s Nest! How are we feeling tonight?” The lead singer vivified the crowd. They responded with a reassuring reaction. “I’m Steve Rogers and these are my buddies,” he turned his head to the left, as he started introducing the other band members.  “The handsome guy right there is Sam, and in the back, there’s Clint, our brilliant drummer boy and this ladies’ charmer right here is Bucky.” As he pointed to the magnetic man who had held your attention hostage since he first walked in.
“And we are The Howling Commandos.” He paused for a second before carrying on with his prelude. “Alright, so the first song that we’re going to play tonight is called ‘Rusted Love’. Enjoy.” Steve removed his mouth from behind the microphone and started cueing the band to play. “1,2…”
Sam and Bucky started strumming the first few notes as a few people cheered. Then Clint jumped in, flaunting his talent in mastering the drum with his sticks. The energy in the room felt more energized as people started moving a part of their bodies. Then Steve amazed the room with his sultry voice, singing the words that echoed through the Sound system of the bar.
“I’m a flying kite in a hurricane, you paralyzed me with your touch and your lips got me addicted…” Steve shut his eyes, relishing the rune. You had a feeling that those lyrics wouldn’t just stay lyrics tonight…
-
They played another four songs that night. The crowd danced, jumped and screamed the words to their song passionately. You, on the other hand, was probably the most tranquil person in the crowd. You didn’t really know much about the band, let alone their music. So when everyone was constantly pushing you because they were too lost in the moment, you eventually tried to get out of the crowd and sat on the bar instead. Natasha was also too lost in supporting her boyfriend, that she almost didn’t notice you leaving.
Through the vibration of the crowd and the music, you had to really lean in to get Natasha’s attention and to get her to hear you. “Nat! I’m gonna sit in the back and wait there. I’m a little thirsty.” She had a giant smile on her face due to the zest the band inflicted. “Okay!” She yelled back, then carried on with her foxy moves.
You struggled to walk through the crowd, trying to not step on anyone’s feet as you made your way to the barstool. What you didn’t notice was, Bucky’s disappointed on his face when he saw you walking out on him. He noticed that you weren’t exactly as thrilled as anyone else. Although, he noticed your stolen glances as you shied away from him when he stared back. He even tried to wink at you once but you immediately looked to the floor, hiding away your blush. He swore he saw the way your cheeks reddened. Not that he wasn’t used to getting that reaction anyway…
You exhaled a breath of relief as you finally broke out of the congested mass of people. You sat on the barstool as you ordered a glass of rum and you waited as the music still reverberated robustly in your ears. You sat there as you started looking through your Instagram. Nat’s icon was the first one to appear in the row and you clicked it to see what you were expecting. She recorded a video of the band, then zoomed in to Clint, as he was ardently drumming the beat.
She put on a heart eyes and fire emoji with the text; “that’s my man!”. The next one was her and you singing along to the second song they played that night. You were able to actually mouth the words after they played the last chorus and you were a quick learner, so you memorized the repeated words easily after the third time. You scrolled through your feed a few more minutes until your order finally arrived.
“Enjoy, miss.” The waiter winked at you. He was probably in his mid-20s, he had warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. His dark hair was slicked back as you stared a little longer than you should. He was obviously attractive, but, you didn’t say anything back to him. You just smiled back in a friendly manner and uttered silenced thanks.
After sitting by yourself for about a half and an hour, like all good things, the show must come to an end. Steve Rogers concluded the show with a final thank you and goodnight as the spotlight shut down, like the drapes closing over a theatrical show. The crowd clapped and some of them started leaving, while others immediately went to the bar to quench the thirst from screaming along to volatile rock music and jumping up and down, getting lost in the tune.
Natasha patted your back as she jumped on the empty chair next to you. Thank God, she was quick on her feet, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to get a seat. “Hey! God, I need a full shot of whiskey right now.”
“Yeah, go crazy.”
She scoffed. “Huh. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, back there.” She signalled the bartender to make an order. “So, what do you think? That was fun, right?” The cute bartender from earlier walked to her as he asked her what would she like to drink and she quickly replied.
“Yeah, they’re pretty good.”
“Pretty good? They’re damn talented. Especially the drummer back there. He totally killed it.”
“Yeah, okay, they are amazing. But you know their music isn’t my kind of music, so can’t say  I really enjoyed it that much.”
“Okay, but you must’ve at least enjoyed the view, right? Don’t think I didn’t catch you and bass boy making several eye contacts back there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You took another sip of your glass to cover your embarrassment.
“Oh my God, you totally do! Look at you blushing!”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are! Admit it! You like Bucky, don’t you?” She playfully pushed you to tease you.
“Oh my God, shut up Nat! You’re causing a scene!” You tried to lower yourself, now that you’re able to speak in a normal volume.
“Nope, I won’t stop until you admit it. Don’t worry, y/n, Bucky’s always been a charmer, so I totally get your attraction.”
That caused a peculiar sickness in your chest. It’s not like you were falling in love with Bucky, no. You didn’t even know him enough to like him. He may be an eye-candy but if he’s really as “charming” as everyone is saying, then that means, he’s one of those dangerous fuckboys that you should avoid at all cost. Because that means, he’s probably only going to manipulate you into thinking that he really cares for you, when in reality, he only wanted to get in your pants. Nope, not gonna happen to you. You weren’t going to be a new notch in his belt.
“Well, then that means he is bad news and that gives me even more reason to feel anything but attraction toward him.”
“Oh, no, y/n, I don’t mean it like that. He’s really sweet, and he’s always been the most chill one in the group. Trust me, you’re gonna love him. Just, give him a chance first, alright? I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s into you.”
“Into me? Nat, he doesn’t even know my name.”
“He will.” She winked again, as she took a sip of her whiskey.
Not long after that, Clint appeared from behind, without Nat realizing. He surprised her by wrapping her waist from behind as he whispered into her ears; “how’s my best girl?” Nat was slightly stunned but as soon as she realized it was her boyfriend, her expression instantly turned into a joyful one. “Hi, baby!” They immediately smooched as she wrapped her arms around his neck while standing face to face now.
“Did you like the show?”
“I loved the show, you guys killed it as always. Oh, and by the way, this is y/n, my number one bestie and the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Now you finally meet her in person!” Her excitement was genuine.
“Hi, y/n! Heard so many great things about you, but you probably can’t say the same, huh?”
“No, actually I can. Nat wouldn’t stop talking about you every night even when I’m blatantly ignoring her.” You joked.
“Well, is that right?” He looked at Nat to assess the truth on her face.
“Yep,” you carried on. “She would say you’re hot, funny and kind, and all these wonderful things. Including the ones that I’m not supposed to hear.”
They laughed. They kissed once more, as Clint stood next to her seat, ordering a drink for himself. Next to you, you could hear Nat saying, “oh, where are the boys? Are they not thirsty?”
“They’re just packing up, babe, they’re gonna join us in a few.”
“Good, ‘cause I think there’s someone y/n would like to meet.” She teasingly wiggled her eyebrows at you, as you sent her a murderous glare. Your lips silently mouthed, “what the fuck?” but Clint picked up her tone and he quickly got the message.
“Oooh, who is it? Is it Steve, Bucky, Sam? Just let me know which one you like and I’ll deliver them at your door tonight, y/n. They’re all single and ready to mingle anytime now.”
You laughed nervously. “No, no, no, no. Nat’s just saying shit.”
She turned her head to her boyfriend and shook it.  “No, I’m not. She and Bucky practically eye fucked on stage.”
You instantly slapped her arm, staring deadly into her eyes. “Ouch!” She put her hand on the spot that you struck, even though it wasn’t even that hard. Classic Nat. Dramatic as always.  “Nat, you can’t just–”
Before you even managed to finish your sentence, she darted her eyes to somewhere behind you as she pointed at whatever got her distracted. “Oh, here they are!” She smirked. She raised her eyebrows at you before she stood on her feet and hugged the anticipated men.
“Hey, guys! Killer show back there!” Nat started hugging Sam and he kissed her cheek, and then she moved onto Steve and the last one to join was Bucky. You muttered ‘shit’ to yourself as you pondered on how you should act. Should you act like nothing ever happened during the show between you two? Or were you going to address the elephant in the room, and just straight up flirt with him, now that he wasn’t being so closely watched anymore?
You didn’t know which would be the best option so you just took a big gulp and drank down the entire glass of Rum you had left. Maybe if you were less sober, you wouldn't excessively overthink. You weren’t even sure whether he was really staring at you or not. For all you knew, he could be staring at another beautiful girl in the crowd that was standing beside or behind you. And if you act impulsively now, this would be like that cheesy moment on Rom-Coms, where a girl waved back to the guy who she thought was waving at her but it turns out, he was actually waving at another girl who was coming from the same direction as her.
Nope, you weren’t going to be that girl.
So you just smiled and nodded along as Natasha introduced you to the rest of the boys. You didn’t want to be rude so you sat on your chair, facing them with an interested look, even though all you wanted to do was just shrink and leave this goddamn place.
“Hey guys, here’s my bomb-ass bestie slash roomie. Her name’s y/n! Isn’t she stunning?”
When Steve was about to offer his hand to you, Sam immediately inserted himself in front of you and Steve. “Well, hello, good-lookin’. Can I buy you a drink?” Sam, being the cool dude he was, he leaned back against the bar counter on his elbows as he shamelessly flirted with you.
“Nope, thank you. I just had one.”
“Oh, you look like you could use another one. Here, let me get that for you.” He cued the bartender to make an order and you instantly tried to stop him, telling him that it wasn't necessary, but it looks like the bartender was already taking his order for you.
And then, out of nowhere, Bucky suddenly stooped in like a hero. “Hey, Sam, why don’t you back off? This one’s mine, alright?” That elicited a questioning look out of you. “Mine?” He didn’t even know you.
“Oh wait, so this is the one you told us about in the dressing room?” What the hell? You thought. They were talking about you as if you weren’t there at all.
“Yep, so why don’t you fuck off and get out of here before I get myself drunk enough to shit on your bed?” His tone was menacing but you could tell that this was a normal, daily conversation between the two.
“Jeez, alright. I’mma leave. You don’t need to wave your dick all over my face.” Before Sam moved to another spot, he patted you on the back and said, “good luck.”
What? What the hell was that for? The bartender came in with your order and served another glass of Rum right in front of you.
“You don’t need to drink that if you don’t want to.” He carefully spoke to you, as if he was trying to not scare you away.
“No, I think I need to. Tonight’s been a pretty crazy night.” You took a sip, the cold drink felt nice on your tongue.
He chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Oh, how crazy can it be for you? Isn’t this like, what you do, every night?”
“Yeah, but, you never really get used to it, you know? Sometimes you just wanna sit in the bar and have a nice talk with a pretty gal and hide in the booth or something.”
That… Warmed up your heart. Damn, if this is his way of flirting, it was truly working. You could see now why everyone was calling him ‘a charmer.’ He really had a way with words. And stares. His baby blues really know how to captivate you and froze you on spot.
“I’m Bucky, by the way.” He offered his hand to shake yours.
“I’m y/n.” You shook it with a smile.
“Did you like the show?” He asked.
“Gotta be honest with you, buddy, your music isn’t exactly my kind of music. But you guys were awesome.”
He paused for a moment as if he was contemplating what he was going to say next. “Think I got a little distracted up there.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Cause there was this pretty lady in a red dress that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.” His gaze even grew more intense now. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. Then his eyes darted to your lips, as he licked his. And before you knew it, he started inching his face closer to yours as he held his gaze on your plump, painted lips, while you could feel his breath more and more as the seconds went by.
And then… His lips were on yours. It’s like the clock just stopped ticking and every noise faded into the background and you were the only two people in the room. His lips felt soft against yours, and the way he licked your bottom lip made your head spin. You ajarred your mouth to let his tongue enter as it got tangled with yours.
You were aware that Nat, Clint and Steve who were having a conversation are now watching you like hawks, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Bucky’s hands grabbed your face, so he could have more control over your mouth. You were practically out of breath by the time he looked into your eyes, that are now slightly darker than a few seconds ago. He loved the sight of you, with your lips slightly swollen.
“Let’s go somewhere more secluded.” You could only nod and then took his hand after he offered you his as you got off the stool. He led the way and you couldn’t help but notice the glances that were thrown by several women along the way. They were staring at him with incontrovertible full of hunger eyes, one even shamelessly put her hand on his shoulder, as she coquettishly smiled at him. Bucky only smiled back and nodded at her but he kept walking with you in his hand.
Even if you were practically a pair, you felt invisible. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but not precisely on you. This must’ve been something normal to him, you thought. You weren’t used to big crowds and inundated with attention, and you weren’t used with unquestionably holding a stranger’s hand and letting him take you wherever he had in mind. But you did anyway, and you weren’t having second thoughts.
Bucky led you to the cramped lavatory and locked the door. The lack of space made it even harder for you to breathe when Bucky was this close to you. He pressed his body to yours, as he kissed you once more. Slowly, but you felt the spell in your bones. “All I could think about on stage was tasting those luscious lips.”
You were spellbound by his magic. You could barely speak another word when his baby blue eyes were looking at you so intensely like that. But you gathered every cell in your body to utter the words anyway, “do it again, then.” You boldly challenged him.
He grinned a Cheshire cat smile. He grabbed your face again and eagerly consume you with his mouth. He then moved his hands to the back of your thighs to elevate you onto the sink. He put his hand on your thigh and the other hand went to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, while still kissing you even deeper.
He pulled away to stare at your distraught state and asked the question, “can I touch you?”
You licked your lips, as you nodded. “Please.” His mouth was on yours again, as the hand that was on your thigh moved to the bottom your dress, delicately inserted his fingers to feel you against your red lace panties. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as he motions his fingers in circle harder.
Your breath quickened. Your mind was getting hazy as the second passes by. The right strep of your dress had fallen off of your shoulder, and Bucky utilized that opportunity to pull down the other strap and he began groping your breast, tenderly pinching your nipple. That elicited a petite yelp out of you. He groped your breast once more as he was still toying with your nipple.
He began kissing your neck, shortly finding your sensitive spot as you threw your head back. You shuddered. Your hands grabbed his hair, wanting to feel him closer. “Bu- Bucky… Please. I need to feel you.”
You didn’t wait for his response and immediately lifted up his shirt. You were stunned by the sight under the dimmed light of the bathroom. Clothes really didn’t do this man any justice. He should never be allowed to wear any coverups, ever again now that you had seen him. He was sculpted by the Gods themselves. His biceps felt robust in your dainty hands and the V-shaped line on his hips led to somewhere you really wanted to wrap your lips around.
Your hands quickly zipped down his jeans and his boxer along with it, and you didn’t hesitate in feeling his throbbing member right there, right then. It felt tremendous in your trembling hands, and you felt it getting harder with every stoke of your palm.
“Oh, fuck, doll, don’t stop.” His voice was raspy in your ears. It was the sexiest goddamn sound you had ever heard.
“Yeah, just like that. Go faster, doll.” He sucked your earlobe and his hand fisted your hair, making a mess out of it. You didn’t mind one bit. You wanted to be a mess for him and only for him. You somehow still managed to pamper him with all the senses you had left, even if your mind was clouded with every part of him.
“Bucky, put it in me. Please.” You begged with a quavering voice.
“Your wish is my command, doll.” In a second, he pushed into you and it sent an electrifying jolt all over your nerves. You threw your head back in mingled pain and pleasure. He felt even more full now that he was fully seated inside you. He lifted you from the sink and pushed you to the wall on the opposite.
You circled your arms around his neck as your back was slammed against the concrete. Then Bucky began thrusting vigorously. You shut your eyes and moaned his name. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t. He kept his eyes wide open to watch you with full attention. He loved seeing the way you were drunk in him. The way you forgot your name more and more every time he slammed back into you.
He loved the squelching noises ringing in his ears, better than the melody he was used to creating in the studio. The sound of your heartbeat was far more gratifying than the way Clint played his drum. Oh, how he could write an entire album solely about you in this state alone.
“You feel so good around me, doll. So. Fucking. Tight.” Your moans became louder with his filthy words in your ears.
“I’m gonna make you mine.” This time, his voice was sultry. It was rather beguiling than mortifying.
His hips kept moving and out of you with a vehement tempo, and then just like that, you crumbled. You screamed your pleasure, not caring if anyone could hear you. Bucky was still moving, trying to reach his own climax. Shortly, he was with you. He unleashed his cum deep inside you, adding the mess that was dripping all over your thighs.
You were a beautiful mess. And Bucky loved it.
After a few minutes, coming down from your high, you breathed into Bucky’s neck, not wanting for it to be over yet. You were a little scared that Bucky was going to walk out and pretend nothing ever happened between you. You didn’t know how many bathroom stalls Bucky had brought different women to and fucked them silly right there. You had a lot do unravel about him, yet, you weren’t certain whether he wanted to let you in or not.
“You okay?” Bucky whispered into your ear. You only nodded, still a little hazy from ecstasy.
“I’m gonna put you down now, yeah?”
“Okay.” He slowly set you on your feet, as he was still staring at your face. You leaned against the wall, trying not to collapse. Bucky picked up his shirt and put it back on along with his jeans and boxer.
“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky offered you his hand, like the gentleman that he was as if he hadn't just fucked you into oblivion in a public restroom.
You took his hand with a smile. You didn’t know what was going to happen after you walk out of the door, but you were going to savour every second of being in his arm if this was going to be last time you’ll ever see him.
-
You went home with a contented smile on your face. You were like a teenage girl who had just been asked to prom by her crush. How could you not, when Bucky offered to walk you home and left a kiss on your cheek before he called it a night?
Natasha was going to stay at Clint’s hotel, so you were supposed to walk home alone. You knew eventually this was going to happen but Natasha and Clint used it as a reason so Bucky and you would spend the night together too. You didn’t mind one bit, though. You wanted to elongate your time with Bucky and your wish was granted.
You offered him to come inside and stay for a little while, you were secretly hoping that you could go for the second round, but Bucky only chuckled and shook his head.
“Not tonight, doll. I ain’t that kinda man. And you need rest. But I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” Then you and Bucky exchanged your numbers and he waited until you were really gone from his sight.
You walked up to your dorm with butterflies in your stomach and sparks fly all trailing over your footsteps. Thank God, Natasha wasn’t here. If she were, she would’ve relentlessly teased you all night and made you admit that she was right to coerce you to come.
And you would’ve had to admit that she was right. And you didn’t like admitting that you were wrong.
But tonight, you were going to admit it to yourself though. Sometimes, doing something that frightens you the most would endue you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.
And you were going to thank your lucky stars tonight for embedding Natasha Romanoff in your life because, without her, you would’ve stayed in your shell and Bucky could’ve fucked someone else in that restroom instead of you.
That might’ve happened in another universe, but not tonight. Tonight it was you and you were really hoping that you were going to see him again in your dreams tonight. You had one taste of him and it wasn’t enough.
Bucky texted you not long after you took a shower.
“Dreaming of me, yet?” Wink emoji.
“Well, if I were, I wouldn’t be texting you right now, would I?”
“That’s true, but at least you’d be drenching your sheets because of me and I don’t think I have a problem with that.”
“I don’t need you to do that, maybe I can use some toys in my drawers tonight. They seem pretty bored.” Thinking emoji.
“Oh, doll, you are killing me here…” Drool emoji.
“You like it.”
“I do.”
“Goodnight, Bucky.”
“Goodnight, doll. Thinking of you here.”
You turned off your phone and the screen went black. You changed into your pyjamas and washed off the remnants of your makeup and let the slumber take over you.
Bucky’s face loomed over you, somewhere in a fancy balcony, the view of the city stretching over, added to the beauty of the scenery. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and no tie. The first couple of buttons were unbuttoned, giving you a majestic picture that he was. His hands that were in his pockets, took yours as you exerted yours to him.
He leaned in with a bright smile under his stubbly face, his blue eyes sparkled like Sirius star.
“Fly with me, doll.”
“What if I fall?”
“Then I’ll catch you.”
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cherryblossomstars · 4 years ago
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paper crowns (t. oikawa)
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a/n: take a shot everytime i say the words “paper crowns” in this fic lmao. i hope you enjoy it! i’m really proud of this one
pairing: oikawa x reader
word count: 2,138
genre: childhood friends to lovers, very light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, its like 85% fluff 15% angst and imo its not that angsty
summary: you were in love with the boy who wore paper crowns and kept galaxies in his pockets
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you were in love with a boy who wore paper crowns and kept galaxies in his pockets in case the both of you ever got bored of the same old scenery the miyagi prefecture had to offer. he’d take the stars and universes out of his pocket and paint your skies with nebulas and show you everything beautiful the world had to offer.
“i want to travel the world with you one day,” he’d shrugged one day out of nowhere- as if you weren’t both in fourth grade and had no real means of being able to make that dream come true.
“we will.” you’d promised, anyway.
the paper crowns were a craft you’d shown him how to make when you were both little. he’d become so enamored with it the both of you had gone to the store and spent your pocket money on buying blue card stock paper, just to have quality, blue paper crowns.
when iwaizumi had joined one day, the both of you had offered him a crown. he refused, saying knights were much cooler anyway. and so, the three of you spent the day learning how to make a paper sword for your dear friend instead.
you and oikawa preferred the crowns much more.
“see, i’m a king, and you’re my queen!” he’d exclaimed. you wondered if it was a silly proclamation or a promise for the future.
the paper crowns remained on your heads all throughout your childhood and middle school. by the time you got to highschool, you’d realized with tears in your eyes and a heavy heart that oikawa had traded in his paper crowns for a volleyball and a net.
the paper crown you’d both made and decorated with stickers and drawings remained on his dresser, but your friendship had long since withered away.
the garden that was your friendship needed the care of two people and oikawa, busy as he was, had left you to do all the work. eventually, what had become this one-sided friendship of yours had dried up.
he regrets many things, but he regrets that the most.
he pretends he doesn’t see the way you steal glances towards him and look like you’re about to cry.
he pretends it doesn’t hurt when you stop. he has to steel himself whenever you walk by him without so much as a glance.
you don’t make paper crowns anymore.
he’s not sure if he was better off with you hating him or you ignoring him.
oikawa tooru loves paper crowns, attention, and volleyball. he’d realized too late that he loves you, too.
in his second year, he’d ditched volleyball practice for the first and last time. he’d gone to the store, just like he did many years ago, and bought a pack of blue card stock.
two new, clean paper crowns. he’s gotten much better at them, he thought proudly. he grabbed some stickers from takeru (much to his nephew’s protest) with promises to buy him more later. he’d stuck the stickers on carefully, the perfectionist that he is. and afterwards, after deciding that the crown looked too plain, he’d drawn and cut out some designs on a different sheet of paper, meticulously glueing on every little drawing.
the first and last time he’d ever ditch volleyball practice, and it was to make you a paper crown for your birthday. he’d even made a matching one for himself.
“i’m such a simp...” he sighed to himself. the both of you hadn’t spoken in two years, and he was about to show up to your doorstep with an origami project and a sheepish smile.
he decided he needs more because you deserve better than a childish arts and crafts project with sentimental value and a shitty friend. another stop at the store, with the crowns in his hand.
the florists are all closed by this time of day, so instead he buys a few cheap, half off bouquets that the stores sell.
he hates them, if he was being honest. so he compromises, stealing certain flowers here and there from each bouquet he bought and made it into one, beautifully done (almost professional looking, if he could say so himself) bouquet— just for you. he’d put the leftover flowers into a vase and arrange them later to give to his mother.
by the time he’s finally finished preparing, it was on the cusp of twilight. his mother had flashed him a knowing smile on his way out of the door, the pieces all fitting together when she sees the familiar points of the crowns in his hand. she’d seen them often enough in his childhood to know that they were worth more to him than just simple toys.
while the night is winding down, you open your door to a pretty bouquet shoved into your face, tied with a pretty blue bow and held by a pretty boy, with a shy, apologetic smile on his face. the real kicker was the paper crown placed on his head.
you smile, glad to see the boy you once called your best friend again. you happily take the flowers, side stepping away from your front door to let the chocolate haired setter into your home.
your family greets him with a smile, they’d always loved oikawa. to them, he was the boy that would spout facts about space and conspiracy theories about the government and the aliens that they were hiding whenever he could. his faces flushes bright red when it’s brought up.
they, too, smile knowingly at the familiar blue set of crowns in his hand.
you put the beautifully arranged flowers into a vase and ask him to follow you. he does, of course. he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d asked him to.
he won’t say that. not right now, at least. your relationship still needed mending. he still needed to learn how to manage his schedule. it’s the reason the both of you had distanced yourselves from each other in the first place.
volleyball first, he’d always think. he’d just assumed you’d always be able for him to come home to whenever he needed. you’d just felt used, instead.
he thinks he’s learned his lesson. enough, at least, for him to try being friends with you again. properly, this time. and then maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to confess the feelings he’s been shoving away from his heart for years.
you both enter your room, placing the vase of flowers onto your nightstand. his heart stutters with hope when he sees a paper crown left on your nightstand, right next to the newly set vase of flowers. he ignores how his stomach plunged with guilt, as well, for neglecting your friendship for so long.
you both pretend you don’t see your family peaking through a crack in your door to see what was going on.
they pretend they didn’t see oikawa hold you in his arms and whisper apologies, asking for another chance. they slip away without a word.
oikawa’s head tucks into your shoulder, his paper crown falling to the ground when he does.
you wonder how he could be comfortable in this position, considering your height difference. he’s grown so much taller since you knew him.
when he steps back, he places the paper crown he’s been holding in his hand onto your head. you bend down to pick up his, and place it onto his head.
you realize quickly that oikawa is still the boy that keeps galaxies in his pocket and that he’d never traded in his paper crowns for volleyball. he brought them with him.
he’d make a great king, you think, when you watch him play a highschool game for the first time.
you’d been avoiding watching your high school’s volleyball games out of fear and, quite frankly, humiliation for the friendship that withered after not seeing sunlight for two years.
he’s still a setter, just like he was in middle school, and he’s still amazing. he conducts his team with ease and, despite always receiving the brunt of their jokes, it’s clear they respect and trust him just as much as he does them.
you smile and wave at the boy who once held a paper sword in his hand. iwaizumi sends you a confused glance, but waves back nonetheless. he turns to oikawa, his furrowed brows and look of confusion still evident on his face.
oikawa turns to his friend, who then points to you. when oikawa sees you at his game, he complains about you waving to iwaizumi before you greeted him, yelling his complains all the way from the gym floor.
you roll your eyes, “i have an inquiry box at home, if you want!” you yell right back.
he pouts, “well maybe i’ll submit an entry! about how mean you are to me! hmph!”
he turns away with a smile on his face. he can’t help it— you’re finally at a game.
he’ll never admit he always looks for you in the crowd when he plays the sport he loves so much. when you finally show up to one, he finally acknowledges the feeling of pride that swells in his chest.
he confesses to you at the end of your second year, when he thinks that you’re both back and settled into your friendship.
he knows that he really should have chosen a better place to confess to you, rather than the halls of aoba johsai during a lunch period. he loves attention, but for once he decides he hates the stares of the students around the both of you, the air hanging heavily as everyone waits to hear your answer. he knows better than anyone at this moment that this wasn’t the best spot he could have done this, but he couldn’t wait anymore.
“take your time,” you’d always tell him when you were younger. he was never one to listen to that advice.
then again, he was also never one to be the person confessing. it was always him getting the confessions. he feels his face burn with embarrassment and fear that you’ll reject him.
you accept his confession with stars in your eyes.
he paints your skies with the galaxies he keeps in his pockets. he lays in your arms with a dazed smile on his face, your hands carding through his hair.
“you’re ruining it.” he complains with a pout.
you hum, “i have an inquiry box, you know.”
“you don’t. i think you should get one, i have a lot of complaints to put in.”
“is that so? you can go ahead and fuck right off, then.” you try not to laugh when you roll him off of you.
he whines, “i was joking!” he crawls his way back into your arms and settles himself between your legs.
after a period of silence, he brings up your promise from long ago. “let’s travel the world together?” he mumbles, as if he was shy to ask.
oikawa tooru is shy, you think with amusement. you may as well enjoy it while you can.
“hm? where’s this coming from?”
he buries his head in your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. you won’t mention how you can see the tips of his ears turning red.
“don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” he pouts, “remember? you promised we would.”
“ah, that’s right. i did.”
“so, can we?”
“well, i promised, didn’t i? promises are made to be kept.” you say, as if you both aren’t broke highschool students worried about college applications.
“where would we go first?”
“hmm. i’ve always wanted to visit argentina since we watched that professional volleyball game when we were younger. you know, the one where you had that dude sign your—“
“stop! stop! and for your information, his name was jose blanco! and don’t bring that up, please, it’s embarrassing. you just love watching me suffer, don’t you?”
“not my fault you decided to—“
“so!” he interrupts again to save himself, “argentina? we can do argentina.” he smiles against the exposed skin of your shoulder, his hand playing with your fingers.
“and then after that, let’s visit france. and then i’d like to see the philippines, too. so many places to visit, too little time and money, jeez.” you continue to ramble, your hands reaching for your nightstand to grab and place the paper crown displayed on it onto your boyfriend’s head.
he listens to your rambling intently, fully ready to do everything he can to make both your dreams a reality.
oikawa thinks his heart might explode out of his chest at the thought that he was lucky enough to fall in love with the girl with paper crowns and stars in her eyes.
fin.
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homoose · 4 years ago
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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x OC)
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Summary: Maggie meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Maggie meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC
Category: hurt/comfort, fluff
Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it
Word count: 5k
a/n: Thank you all for your kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️
Series Masterlist
———
Maggie felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight. 
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together. 
“Are you almost done?”
“You made quite the mess, doctor.” It was the last weekend of Spencer’s sabbatical, and he had spent the afternoon cooking all of her favorite foods— a sort of preemptive gift for when he was back on the BAU’s unpredictable schedule. She’d taken on the responsibility of the dishes in return, which was no easy undertaking considering it seemed as though he’d used every single pot, pan, and utensil in her kitchen. 
“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek. 
“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides. 
She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”
He hummed his confirmation, and she could feel his smile as she lathered the inside of the pan, then rinsed it, and finally drained the sink. She dried her hands on the kitchen towel and turned to face him. He didn’t remove his hands, instead just let them glide over her hips and then settle on her lower back. 
“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.” 
“I could eat it every day for the rest of my life and be very, very happy.” He dropped his gaze and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Speaking of moms, I… I was wondering if you, um— if you’d want to meet my mom?” 
Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”
She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.” 
Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning. 
“I’ll check in and visit for a few minutes, try to gauge what kind of a day it is, and then I’ll text you to come in or not.” He ran a hand over his face. “I really should have had you drive separate, because if it’s not a good day I don’t want you to have to wait around while I visit with her, but she’s been having a lot of good days recently, and—”
“Honey.” She found his hands where they were clutching a little aggressively at his leg and covered them with her own, running her thumbs soothingly along his skin. “It’s okay. Either way— whether I meet her today or we wait for a better day— it’s okay.”
He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”
“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled. 
He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”
“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”
“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”
She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”
Spencer dropped the keys into her hand and then climbed out of the car, closing the door and practically trotting toward the building. She would have laughed if it weren’t for the raging anxiety that was nearly suffocating her. She opened her door and put her legs out the side of the car, taking a deep breath and looking out over the parking lot. 
Maggie knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls? 
She loved teaching kindergarten, and she was the first to defend the profession in most settings. But she was about to be in a room with two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would possibly have to contribute. More than that, what would Diana Reid think of her son settling for someone so… ordinary?
Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh. 
Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you. 
Maggie turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.
The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”
“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Maggie began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”
“Ah, yes— you must be Maggie. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Maggie wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.” 
Maggie mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met. 
And now she had a moment of panic, wondering if maybe it was too on the nose, or if Diana would think it was silly and immature. She briefly considered turning and heading back out to the parking lot, but then Spencer appeared in the doorway to the sunroom, waving his thanks to Suzanna and then positively beaming at her. How could she deny him this?
He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, instantly more at ease from the simple touch. He pulled her gently into the room, and there was Diana, perched on a floral sofa and looking quite elegant in a soft purple shawl. 
She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Maggie watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.
“Maggie,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Maggie returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”
She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Maggie saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”
The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Maggie folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.
“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Maggie nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”
Maggie laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”
“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Maggie with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.” 
Maggie felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”
“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered. 
“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered. 
“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple, I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Maggie. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.” 
“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Maggie’s heart felt just a little bit lighter. 
Diana smiled brightly at her. “Your students must absolutely adore you.” Diana gestured vaguely to Spencer before continuing, “Spencer loved his kindergarten teacher— hm, Mrs. Hudson, was it?” 
Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Maggie with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”
Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Maggie laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”
“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Maggie shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Maggie agreed. 
“Oh,” Diana tapped Maggie’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”
“Mom,” Spencer choked out. 
“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Maggie begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.” 
Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”
Maggie turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”
“Did you figure out the trick?” Maggie asked. 
“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”
“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Maggie. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”
“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied. 
Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Maggie could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Maggie. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”
“A classic in its own right,” Maggie said. 
Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”
“I love Ferdinand!” Maggie gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”
Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.” 
The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Maggie was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit. 
Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Maggie’s home, her family, and most of her interests. 
Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Maggie found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever. 
It was the happiness that scared her. 
She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy— was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet down from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised. 
This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.  
“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Maggie’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.” 
The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”
She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.” 
Maggie watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?” 
Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”
It was quiet for a long moment, and then Maggie stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Maggie clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.” 
Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Maggie returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.” 
Maggie blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly. 
With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Maggie excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down. 
Spencer emerged from the building, his hands in his pockets. He quickly made his way to the vehicle, practically running across the parking lot and sliding behind the wheel. Before she could even say anything, he was surging across the console to grab her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss. 
She steadied herself with her hands on his chest, clutching at his shirt and returning the unexpected passion with a slightly bewildered smile. When he was finished, he pulled back to lean their foreheads together. She caught her breath and asked, “What was that for?”
“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.” 
She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”
He leaned into her for a minute longer, breathing into her hair and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. Then he pulled back, smiling widely. “How would you feel about meeting the other family?”
Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Maggie leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already. 
Spencer held the door open, trailing in behind her with a hand on her waist. She spotted Penelope’s bright green dress immediately, and Spencer raised his hand in greeting. The group gave them a raucous cheer, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile.
Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Maggie, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug. 
“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Maggie’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!” 
Maggie laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”
Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Maggie. “What’s your poison?” 
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Maggie insisted. 
Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”
“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly. 
A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Maggie. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”
She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Maggie’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay. 
She learned that Tara had a doctorate in forensic psychology, and Emily had worked internationally for years becoming the Unit Chief of the BAU. Luke had been an Army Ranger and a member of the Fugitive Task Force, and Matt had traveled the globe with the International Response Team. 
They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Maggie couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people. 
She did her best to steer the conversation back to the team whenever possible, which in some ways made the whole thing worse. But she managed to keep a smile for the evening, and she lost track of how many drinks made their way down the hatch. Luke ordered an assortment of snack foods for the group, and she gratefully accepted a few fries and a mozzarella stick to soak up some of the alcohol sloshing around in her stomach. At some point Spencer returned from the bar with an extra glass of water, sliding it her way with a knowing smile and a press of his lips to her cheek. 
Eventually, Maggie had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath. 
She raised her head to analyze her appearance, groaning a little at the smudge of mascara under her eyes. As she swiped at the black rings, she considered that she had never quite figured out the ideal amount of alcohol— somehow always managing to get a little too drunk. And now she was too drunk in front of all of Spencer’s friends— his family. 
Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary. Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring. Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but. 
She closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over, remembering the last time she’d cried in a bar bathroom. She’d spent that evening wondering what was wrong with her… wondering if she deserved to have someone like Spencer at all. 
“That’s just… the alcohol talking,” she reminded herself out loud into the empty bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Stop bein’ a weirdo.”
She pushed out of the bathroom and back into the bar, walking a little more cautiously as the alcohol started to course through her bloodstream. As she approached the group again, Spencer’s eyes found her immediately, and he reached for her, pulling her underneath his arm and into his side. He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah, just—” She slid her hand around his waist to keep herself steady. “Just more tipsy than I thought.”
He ran a soothing hand along her arm. “Do you wanna go home?”
She shook her head. “No, no— ‘M fine. ‘S nice to be with your friends.”
“You’re sure?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because honestly I’m kind of ready to go.”
She looked up from where her head was resting on his chest to see him smiling softly at her. “Whatever you want.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned back to the team and cleared his throat. “We’re gonna head out.”
Tara made a show of checking her watch. “10:45? I’m surprised you stayed this long, old man.”
Maggie’s eyes opened slowly and came into focus as Spencer’s car came to a stop outside her apartment. “Why’re we here?” 
Spencer shut off the ignition and pulled out the key with a small smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to feel… less than stellar tomorrow. I thought you might like to wake up in your own bed. Hang on.”
He climbed out of the vehicle and closed the door before coming around to her side. She could feel the tears welling up as she fumbled with the buckle on her seatbelt. Everything was a little uncoordinated, and she felt absolutely ridiculous. 
The door opened, and she carefully swung her legs out one at a time. Spencer stood slightly to the side, and she knew she should hurry up and let him get home, but she didn’t move to get up. 
“Do you need help?” 
She shook her head, and the action sent a tear rolling over her bottom lash line. She tried to swipe it away, but of course Spencer caught it.
“Hey— what’s wrong?” he asked gently. 
She sniffed. “Are you just dropping me off?”
He cupped a hand underneath her chin to tilt her eyes upward, and his eyes were soft but concerned. “I was planning to come upstairs with you. Unless you don’t want me to.”
She shook her head. “No, I— you can come upstairs.”
“Okay.” Spencer cocked his head. “Honey, what’s going on?”
Maggie didn’t know where to begin. She was drowning in self-doubt— had been since about the one month mark. It seemed that every day there was something new to feel insecure about. The confidence she’d had on his doorstep in February was nowhere to be found. 
That was too much for her slow moving brain to articulate at the moment, so she settled on: “They’re all so smart and funny and cool and interesting.”
“Okay…” he prompted. 
“And I’m not,” she admitted. 
His mouth turned quickly down. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I’m just— a kindergarten teacher and I— I don’t have any cool skills or stories, and I don’t even have any muscles, and they’re all so pretty—”
“Hey, stop— stop.” Spencer squatted down to be eye-level with her. “First of all, you’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re my favorite kindergarten teacher and the best one I know.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “You have lots of cool skills and stories. And I don’t have any muscles either.”
She lifted her free hand to squeeze his bicep. “Yes, you do.”
“Muscles are overrated.” He smiled and brought a hand to her face, smoothing her hair back and then letting his fingers linger on her cheek. “And frankly, pretty is too mundane a term to describe you. I’d go with something like radiant, or ethereal, or incandescent.”
“You have to s‘plain your jokes to me,” she slurred, swiping her forearm under her nose. 
“Not always. And besides, I have to explain my jokes to basically everyone,” he reminded her. He squeezed her hand. “But unlike everyone else, you let me explain them to you. And you actually listen to the explanation.” He shrugged. “I think I like that more than I like telling the joke.”
She was quiet then, eyes focused on a particularly interesting piece of loose gravel. She knew the list of her flaws was longer, but her brain couldn’t string them together in her current state. 
Spencer shuffled closer and waited patiently until she finally looked at him before continuing. 
“I love you. And not because of your job, or your cool stories, or your muscles,” he clarified. “I love you because you’re you. And, a little selfishly, because I love the person that I am when I’m with you. Okay?”
He smiled tentatively, and she let out a long breath. “Okay.”
He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”
Spencer helped her navigate up the walkway and the three flights of stairs. Rather than rummage drunkenly through her purse, she passed it off and allowed him to retrieve her keys and unlock the door. 
He supervised and provided balance support as she haphazardly swiped a makeup wipe over her face and fumbled into her pajamas. Finally he got her settled into bed with a bottle of water on the bedside table. 
He pulled up the covers around her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he murmured. 
This was the moment that he’d realize what an absolute fool she was. He’d finally be alone in the bathroom, and it would become abundantly clear that she couldn’t drink responsibly, that she was obnoxious, that she actually was boring. She was sure of it, and her heart was fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces. 
Spencer’s nervous laugh broke through her haze of insecurity. “Whoa, I thought we were done crying?” he joked. “Honey, c’mere.” Spencer pulled her up into his arms, rubbing a hand over her back. 
She hadn’t realized she was making any noise until the sound vibrated against where Spencer had tucked her into his shoulder. As if she hadn’t been foolish enough tonight, now she was blubbering into his nice cardigan. Despite herself, she clung to him like he’d disappear like smoke between her fingers. 
“I’m— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed; it’s not funny,” he apologized. “Shhh, sweetheart. It— it’s okay, it’s okay.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice was full of tears and cracked pathetically at the end. 
“Okay, okay,” he agreed, a tinge of confusion in his voice. “I’m— the bathroom can wait, I suppose.”
That only made her cry harder, which poor Spencer responded to with even more aggressive soothing. He stroked over her hair and hugged her tight, shushing her and rocking her a little bit back and forth. 
He was just so sweet. Kind and thoughtful and considerate— three things she hadn’t experienced from a significant other in a very long time. And it was exhausting waiting for the shift— for the moment that he realized she wasn’t worth the hassle. She was so tired of anticipating the end. 
“I don’t want you to leave.” She hated how ridiculous she sounded, gasping and hiccuping. 
Spencer froze for a full second and then squeezed her impossibly tighter. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not. I am right here.” He stroked a firm hand up and down her spine. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me. I’m gonna do it, too, okay?” 
He led her in a series of deep inhalations and long exhales to the rhythm of his palm on her back. He murmured quietly to her, reassurances and promises and love. As her breathing came closer to normal, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.  
“I love you, Maggie. You know that, right? I wouldn’t change one single thing about you.” His hand on her back slowed to a stop, and she could practically hear him considering his next move. “I’m pretty sure Billy Joel wrote a song about it, actually. I love you just the way you are.”
She couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in her throat at the tone deaf melody, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Okay?”
She wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t his fault. She sighed and sniffed. “Okay, off brand Billy Joel.”
“That’s not very nice,” he chuckled, pulling back to swipe his fingers over her damp cheeks. 
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I love off brand. Just as good ‘s the real thing, and with some fun quirks.”
“Somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate the comparison.” He smiled softly at her, and then his expression melted into something a little more serious. “But I mean it. There is no place I’d rather be, and no one else that I wanna be with. When I say that I love you the most, I mean that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. Ever.”
He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to cry all over again. How was he so wonderful, and gentle, and loving, and perfect? He’d promised to do better on a chilly night in January and then spent every single day since then doing exactly that. 
“But I actually do have to pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”
He was speaking to her as he would a child, and she was utterly mortified. She waved her hand. “God, I’m bein’ so annoying.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a little drunk. And a lot adorable.” He tapped gently on her nose. “But you’re also kind of sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.” He propped the pillow up behind her. “It’ll be the fastest pee ever— four minutes, tops. Most of it will be hand washing. Okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled, and she really meant it. 
He hopped up and trotted to the bedroom door. “See you in four minutes. Have some water while you wait.”
She followed instructions, sipping carefully from the bottle he’d left for her. She also rummaged through the bedside drawer for the advil, popping two and washing them down with another swig of water. 
Spencer returned to the bedroom with his cardigan and pants already discarded. He quickly slipped out of his button up and into his pajamas before sliding in beside her and holding out his arms. “All right, c’mere.”
“Hmm?” she hummed. 
“I’m demanding snuggles,” he clarified. “That’s the price you pay for my chauffeur and caretaker services.” 
Another smile slowly turned up the corners of her mouth, and he returned it, pulling her against his side. “There she is.”
She allowed herself to settle and melt into his warmth, the soft fabric of his t-shirt under her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. She willed herself to stop waiting for the shift. She begged herself to stop looking for the end. 
Maybe this time there wouldn’t be an end. Maybe she could have an infinite middle with Spencer Reid. Maybe she had earned that. 
———
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