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luverofralts · 1 year

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Arkhelios Adventures

“So am I putting the horror movie in or the romantic comedy? Which movie do you think is going to get Adam to make out with you faster?”

Eliana Traver popped some popcorn into her mouth, watching as Adam and Theo flushed furiously at the comment.

“Don’t be so loud!” Theo hissed anxiously. “You know how paranoid my dads are about this sleepover. I’ll never be able to have friends over again if they think this is going to turn into some kind of orgy.”

Having a sleepover wasn’t a simple request these days. When they were children, it was perfectly fine if Theo slept over at Adam’s or any of his other friends, but now that they were teens and he had a boyfriend, his parents refused to allow sleepovers like they used to. It was only with some begging and some very solemn promises, that Theo was allowed to have a few friends spend the night, including Adam. Theo had sworn that nothing would happen between him and Adam with the presence of their friends, which was plausible. Leah and Eliana certainly didn’t want to make out with Adam, and Theo would never cheat on his boyfriend,or so he believed. Roman could see as clear as day that Theo’s gaze lingered a bit too long with his female friends, but that was for Theo to work out on his own. Thirteen was still an acceptable age for a sleepover with heavy parental supervision, or at least so Roman thought. He’d never really had friends of his own growing up to spend the night aside from Abe, and those visits could hardly be called sleepovers.

Roman looked over at his young son, who was currently wielding a pillow against his friend in a fierce pillow fight. There was no way that either he or Abe would be sleeping this night, but it was good to see their son happy. Trust had to be earned and until Theo could prove that he was trustworthy, his parents would be in every shadow, waiting with a magical cold shower.

Adam for his part, was shyly reading on the couch while his boyfriend embarked on a pillow war. The boy was always quiet and polite and deferential to the Bellamys. Roman had known that Adam’s parents were strict and expected much from him, but he hadn’t expected the boy to be this calm. Theo was a wave of energy crashing through the house, attacking his friends with pillows and a few tiny spells that his school would not approve of. Maybe Theo would make his boyfriend less quiet over time. They had been friends since their childhood though, and Adam hadn’t changed much in that time.

Well, opposites do attract, they say. Still, this might be the boy Theo’s crying about in a year or two. Not very many people marry their high school boyfriend. God knows how rough Abe and I have had it over the years.

“Did Luciana’s boyfriend show you that move?” Eliana chuckled, swinging for Theo’s head. “He tried the same thing in gym class...where I kicked his ass.”

“Language, Eliana! There’s little kids running around here who don’t need to hear bad words when they’re playing,” Roman called out on instinct. Correcting children’s foul language was an automatic reaction now that he had a teenager and two preteens.

“Sorry, Mr. Bellamy!”

“Mr. Bellamy? God, Abe, what happened to us? I’m used to royalty calling me Mr. Bellamy as an insult and now our teenage child’s friends are calling me that. When did we get so old?”

“Wait, Luci has a boyfriend?” Abe asked, horror in his voice. “Since when? Theo’s barely old enough to have a boyfriend and he’s two years older than them.”

“They both do currently,” Roman replied casually. “Though I think it’s a new one this week for Luci.”

“What do you mean the twins have boyfriends? They’re children!”

“They’re also almost teenagers, Abe,” Roman chided his husband. “It doesn’t mean anything at that age, it’s just a status thing. Kids collect boyfriends and girlfriends like they do Voidcritters cards. Lots of younger kids had boyfriends when I was at school. They even had a school dance for them where absolutely no one dared dance with each other. It’s normal. Adrian’s even met a few of them.”

“A few of them? How many boyfriends do the kids have?”

“A couple of them were girlfriends,” Roman informed him, as if that made any difference. “They’re still figuring out who they want to be. These things take time. When they’re older and actually start dancing with each other at school dances, that’s when I’ll worry.”

“And when were you planning on letting Saturnia date?” Abe asked, terror in his voice. “She’s just a baby still.”

“I know, Abe,” Roman sighed. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re making a big deal over nothing. Don’t worry about future parenting problems, just focus on keeping our son from making us grandparents tonight. One thing at a time. We’ll discuss your concerns with Evren and Adrian when they come for dinner tomorrow. They’ll tell you the same thing though. I’m pretty sure that even Lucy had a few dates as a kid. She told me she did anyway however true that might be.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about it.”

“Uh, Adam...I need to talk to you about something. Something that might be important. I’m not sure if this is the right time for this conversation, but maybe we could schedule a talk tomorrow when we’re alone?”

Theo shifted his weight awkwardly, trying not to reveal his nervousness. It wasn’t every day that he had to tell his boyfriend that he might have a half-brother out in Pleasantview after all. A very attractive potential half-brother at that. Ewan had seemed like someone who liked starting trouble, and Theo could easily imagine him lying about his family to get attention or cause problems.

“A-are you breaking up with me?” Adam asked nervously, the threat of tears in his eyes. “I’d do anything for you, Theo. We can fix this.”

Theo’s baffled look at the idea seemed to calm Adam somewhat, despite his worries.

“What? No! I’d never break up with you,” Theo promised, grabbing Adam’s hand. “I told you that we’d be together forever. We’re going to be together forever and ever, I promise. It’s just that-”

“Theo! No hand contact over ten seconds, you know the rule!”

Theo dropped Adam’s hand quickly at Abe’s warning. His parents really were going to spend the evening refereeing this party, weren’t they? The mood was broken though and despite Adam’s curiosity, Theo didn’t want to drop news of this potential enormity in front of an audience.

“Sorry, tomorrow maybe. When we have privacy.”

“Can I at least have a clue? I’m worried,” Adam asked, searching for an answer in Theo’s expression. “Are you in danger? Is it demons again?”

Theo tried to find an innocent way of phrasing this potential secret, but came up empty.

“Um, it’s something about Pleasantview. There’s this guy that I met that I need to talk to you about.”

“Another guy? You met someone else but you don’t want to break up? I don’t understand.”

Theo winced at the impression he was unintentionally giving his boyfriend. It really was true that he was better off if he never tried explaining things. Everything he said was somehow always the worst thing to say.

“I’m not leaving you for some hot guy in Pleasantview,” Theo groaned. “Just- we need to talk about him. For once, you might be the scandalous one in school.”

Adam frowned, but didn’t press any further. Theo clearly didn’t want to talk about this issue in front of other people.

“Okay, tomorrow then,” Adam said firmly. “I trust you, Theo.”

“Hey, the rest of us are still watching a movie, lovebirds!”

Theo laughed at the two frustrated girls who were impatiently gesturing towards the living room television and their stockpile of popcorn.

“Sorry!”

In the end, the group settled on a horror film. Theo’s parents were not so secretively hanging around the living room and a romantic comedy might trigger more interruptions from them. Their choice had meant that Saturnia was shuffled to bed early before she got nightmares from the screaming coming from the television.

Theo wasn’t scared in the slightest by the movie, but he’d leaned against Adam all the same anyway. Nothing in the movie could possibly match the nightmares that Theo had encountered first hand in his short life, but it was nice to think that he had someone to hold his hand in case movie zombies were more frightening than the real ones. Luckily for him, Abe Jr had needed to be fed and put to bed and their parents trusted that the shrieks of horror coming from the living room were all because of the movie and not the start of a teenage orgy.

Still, once the movie ended and the teens were left to their own devices, the atmosphere one again veered into hormonal territory that the Bellamys were hoping to avoid. There was only one option to prevent the night from escalating with teenage hormones.

Roman deliberately took a seat between Theo and Adam on the couch, a large book in his hands. He addressed the scattering group of teens in an authoritative tone.

“Who wants to see pictures of baby Theo?”

All the blood seemed to drain from his son’s horrified face as Theo’s friends eagerly rushed to the couch, falling for Roman’s trap. Even Adam scooted closer, suddenly incredibly interested in the book in Roman’s hands.

“Dad, no,” Theo groaned as his father turned the first page. “No one wants to see those. Let’s play Truth or Dare or something. Anything.”

“I bet you were a cute baby,” Eliana gushed, peering at the first photo eagerly. “Probably with teeny tiny little baby demon horns.”

“Dark forms usually come after the first few years for hybrids,” Adam informed her. “They look human at first, probably a defense evolved to protect an infant from an angry mob of bigoted humans. Hybrids haven’t always been this accepted in human society.”

“Look at his little booties!”

Not for the first time that evening, Theo wished to fall into an unending pit of embarrassment because of his parents. Unfortunately for him, his parents seemed to know just how to embarrass him in front of his friends.

“Aww, you’re so little,” Eliana cooed. “What a cute little outfit!”

“We had some baby clothes given to us at his baby shower,” Roman said, pointing at yet another photo of Theo in a similar outfit. “His favourite was this fuzzy pajama set. He’d cry if he couldn’t wear it at night, which meant we had to wash it constantly or spend the night soothing him. Do you remember, Theo?”

Theo scowled at his father, refusing to answer the question.

“Yeah, we didn’t know what to do when you outgrew it. Ulys-your godmother bought it for you.”

Roman’s voice faltered once his brain registered what he was saying. It was true, Ulyssa had bought him that pajama set a lifetime ago. She and Lucy had fought about how much he liked it and who the superior godmother was. At the time, Roman could have never imagined a life where he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge the gap in his life where Ulyssa had once been or one where Lucy wasn’t hopelessly living with doomed feelings for her. He had promised Abe that he wouldn’t contact Ulyssa again and while reminiscing about their friendship wasn’t actually cheating, it still felt dangerous. Even if Abe was fine with it, the look on Theo’s face felt colder than it had been a few seconds ago.

Roman turned the page, hoping to do the same with his memories.

“And here I am feeding you,” he continued, trying to rid the left over emotion from his voice. “You were just over five pounds when you were born, which was less than Ironman would have liked. So we tried feeding you as often as we could, even if you struggled a bit with it at first.”

While Theo prayed for a quick, merciful death, he did take notice of Adam’s reaction to these humiliating pictures. If anything, he seemed to appreciate Roman’s reminiscing.

“You were so young when you had him,” Adam murmured. “I mean I know you were, but seeing pictures just...you look like our age.”

‘No shit’ was what Roman wanted to say, though he managed to stop himself before he did. That revelation was precisely why he and Abe had planned this little walk down memory lane.

“We were a couple of years older than you are,” he said instead. “Just babies ourselves. It was a lot of work taking care of an infant as a teenager. We had help and even then it was hard. On top of that, Theo was born with a curse and nearly died. None of it was easy, and I hope none of you have to experience what we went through.”

“He was so cute though,” Leah gushed. “Look at those little fingers.”

“Is that Crown Princess Theodosia? How do you know her?”

Roman stared at the photo. He hadn’t pulled this album out in years and over time, more photos had been quickly shoved in the book. This photo was taken just before Theo’s birth, back when Roman’s main priority in life was to find someone rich and powerful to hold onto and bring to Arkhelios. When his grandfather had cut his allowance and stopping funding his lifestyle, Roman had briefly had to work in a bakery to earn money. The shop was still around if he remembered correctly. It was hard to forget about a pastry store that shared a space with an electronics store. For some reason, people in Pleasantview decided that they needed to buy a doughnut and a servo at the same location. Roman had never understood the appeal himself and had been incredibly angry because his grandfather made him get a job when all his classmates were filthy rich.

“I don’t know the princess,” he replied slowly. “She came in the shop for a snack and I guess someone took a picture. Back then, it probably seemed like this would be the closest to royalty as I’d ever be. She did influence our naming Theo though. We wanted him to have a name as grand as hers.”

“She’s our dad’s cousin,” Leah stated proudly. “She and Charlotte come to Winterfest dinner sometimes. She does still like pastries.”

“Who doesn’t?” Roman laughed. Something about this photo was bothering him, though he couldn’t put into words what that might be. It had been a time in his life that he didn’t usually think about, though most people would probably say that it was the least stressful that his life had ever been. Long before he learned that his mother was a homicidal demon or what it felt like to pace the floors at midnight, hoping the baby let him sleep through the night. Despite his feelings at the time, there was something comforting about his work there, something that gave him fulfillment he hadn’t expected. It was something to reflect on when he wasn’t entertaining teenagers.

“Oh, I must have bumped into the stereo,” Theo announced theatrically, turning the volume knob loud enough that rock music began to drown out his father. “Who wants to dance?”

“Ooh, me! I love this song.”

Leah leapt from her spot on the couch to start dancing with Theo to the stereo music. Adam also stood up from his spot on the couch, but lingered hesitantly instead of joining the dancing.

This boy really is shy. Probably more shy than Theo, which is saying something. Maybe Abe and I don’t have to worry as much as we are about him. He’s not even dancing with Theo. We might have a few more years of peace with those two after all.

“Alright, no dance parties, some family members are already sleeping and there will be hell to pay if they wake up. So music off, let’s get those sleeping bags out and set up in the room here. Abe and I will be back in ten minutes to check in on you guys.”

Roman debated about leaving the family album on the couch, but his point had already been made and he didn’t want to subject his son to too much teasing. His point had already been made.

“Oh, and the sleeping order is boy, girl, boy, girl on the floor,” he added before leaving. “If I come back and see you and Adam sleeping next to each other, one of you is going to be sleeping outside. Good night.”

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios adventures #roman bellamy #theo bellamy #sim: theo bellamy #theodosia alioto #sim: theodosia alioto #leah toyonaga #eliana traver #sim: Adam Darktide #adam darktide #abe chun

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motownfiction · 2 years

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beech grove

When Rosemary gets her first iTunes gift card in the fall of ‘06, Sadie sits with her at the computer. She has fifteen dollars for fifteen songs, and Sadie wants to see what she’ll do. She’s eleven, twelve in February, and she’s just beginning to develop a taste in music. Sadie’s happy for her. Excited. There’s something special about the first music you choose on your own. More special than buying your first movie ticket or reading your first book outside of school. Music’s different. She’s always known that.

Right now, Rose’s taste in music seems almost entirely dictated by what she’s heard on television. The radio just doesn’t work the same way for kids today as it did for kids then (And has Sadie ever really stopped being a kid?). When the family goes on long road trips, Sadie mandates at least one hour of radio surfing (“And you must pay attention,” she always says, and the kids abide. They know why they’re doing it.). Sometimes, they catch a few gems across the airwaves. Rose just seems to prefer the cable. Sadie knows she should be glad her daughter listens to any music at all (so many of her friends’ parents drive in wretched silence, like they prefer the sound of tires rolling across the road and hockey sticks knocking into each other in their trunks). Still, when Rosemary hits the purchase button on Hannah Montana’s “Best of Both Worlds,” Sadie can’t help but cringe a little inside.

Come on, now, she hears from a voice inside herself (that does not belong to herself, except for all the ways that it does). You remember. Pop stars are always TV stars. You used to love The Monkees. Mutual symbiosis, baby!

Sadie laughs to herself. Thankfully, Rosemary doesn’t notice.

“Are you sure you want to spend that money on Hannah Montana, babe?” she asks. “I mean … a dollar’s not cheap.”

“I like Hannah Montana, Mom,” Rosemary insists. “Ooh, I have to get ‘Suddenly I See.’”

“What’s that?”

“The song they played when the girls got voted off on So You Think You Can Dance.”

Sadie sighs. At least that’s a real song.

A real song? the voice returns to ask. Oh, Sadie Lou, I thought you were better than that. All songs are real songs. Next you’re gonna say that the only real music is Mozart.

Sadie chuckles again, a little louder this time. Rosemary still doesn’t notice. She’s just playing around on the computer, buying up TV soundtracks.

“Oh, and I wanna get ‘Boston,’” she says.

“You want to buy an entire city?” Sadie asks. “I didn’t know iTunes could do that.”

“Very funny, Mom. No, it’s a song by Augustana.”

“You say that like anyone knows who Augustana is.”

“It’s just a song. It’s good. They played it on the season finale of One Tree Hill this past year. When Brooke and Lucas dance at the wedding.”

“They played Led Zeppelin in that episode – the first time I think I’ve ever heard Led Zeppelin on a TV show, by the way – and you want some other song?”

“It’s a good song, Mom. Hear, listen to the clip.”

Rosemary types in the name and hits the little play button. Sadie sits back and tries to hear what an eleven-year-old might hear.

She said I think I’ll go to Boston / I think I’ll start a new life / I think I’ll start it over / Where no one knows my name …

Sadie sighs again. Only this time, she’s not disappointed. She also doesn’t hear what an eleven-year-old might hear. She hears what she would have heard when she was about fifteen.

“Mom?” Rosemary asks. “Are you OK?”

“What?” Sadie asks. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m great. This just … this reminds me of how I felt about Beech Grove.”

“What’s Beech Grove?”

“Not what we thought it was going to be. So, when Lucy and I were a little older than you … all our lives, really, but especially around freshman year … we wanted to run away in the wintertime. We’d always lived in cold places, but we could just never get used to it. And I was looking for places with sunshine or warmth or just the word beach in them … and I found Beech Grove. I thought it sounded marvelous.”

“So, what was wrong with it?”

“It turned out to be a small town in Indiana. Hot summers, cold winters. Same as the place we dreamt we’d be escaping.”

Rosemary laughs. Goodness, her laugh. Sadie wonders if she knows who she sounds like … who she looks like when she smiles.

“I think it was about more than the weather, though,” Sadie says. “Lucy and I … we felt like we were different. Like St. Catherine’s wasn’t the right place for us. For any of us, really. That’s why Daddy and I didn’t send you and your brothers there. I think we wanted to go some place that felt magical … because we felt magical.”

Rosemary grins, and her eyes are just like glitter. Beautiful.

“So, do you like the song?” she asks.

Sadie laughs for real this time. Rosemary notices. She laughs, too.

“Yeah,” Sadie says. “Yeah, I like the song.”

Good choice.

(part of @nosebleedclub november challenge -- day xxi!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: sadie doyle #ch: rosemary deluca #year: 2006 #i know this one is too long BUT #i like this one

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years

Text

Hotch x reader - Broken souls

Part eight:

You were still uncertain about getting drinks when you guys landed, but you didn’t have much of a choice when the girls dragged you along.

“So, beer, whiskey, vodka?” JJ asked.

“Just water is fine, I don’t drink.”

“Responsible.” Derek chuckled.

You laughed a little and shrugged.

“Never did like the taste.”

“Trust me, once you get enough in you, there’s no taste.” Garica laughed.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You chuckled.

You looked around the bar they were at, it wasn’t too loud which you were thankful for, but it was completely full of people and you hated that.

Sitting in the far corner of the booth near the wall, you simply kept your head down.

“Come dance!” Garcia giggled.

You looked up and smiled, shaking your head.

“I Uhm.. don’t like crowded places.”

“Awh okay. You can watch.”

You turned back to the table, Derek was talking to some girls at the bar while Hotch and Rossi were grabbing some more drinks.

The only one at the table with you was Reid who was playing with a deck of cards.

“What’re you playing?” You asked.

“Solitaire, can you play?”

“It sounds familiar but I’m not sure, can you show me?”

“Sure.” He smiled.

Reid moved so he was sat on your side and lined up the cards, explaining the game he did.

“So it has to go down in order, so a black seven you can put a red six not a black one. It has to go black, red, black.”

You nodded your head along and watched as he pulled an ace from the top of the deck.

“If you get an ace, you put it on the top, if you get a black two of spades you can place it up there too, but if you can’t play a card you have to set it aside.”

“I see, okay.”

You slowly started playing, if you were unsure Reid would give you advice or tell you what to do with the card.

“Card games?” Rossi asked with a smirk.

“I was bored and (Y/N) was curious.” Reid smiled.

Hotch and Rossi sat down, watching as you tried to complete the game.

The could see the confusion as you tried to figure the game out, the hesitation and corrections you made.

You still had some left over cards and you frowned slightly, turning to Reid with a sad look on your face.

“I didn’t finish it…” you mumbled.

“It’s okay.” He laughed slightly.

Reid took the cards and shuffled them again.

“You’re still learning.”

“How about a game of poker?” Rossi asked.

“(Y/N), Hotch?” Reid asked.

“I Uhm.. don’t know how to play poker either.”

The gave you confused look and sat back. The other came back over just after this.

“Have you ever played any card games?” Rossi asked.

“No sir.”

“Really?! None?” JJ gasped.

You shook your head, giving them all a sheepish smile.

“So, what kind of person is the mysterious (Y/N) (L/N) like then?” Derek smiled.

“I Uhm.. well. I’m nothing special really.”

“Surely you are, you know multiple languages. That’s something special itself.” Prentiss said.

You gave a small shrug, taking a sip from your glass of water as you avoided eye contact with them all.

“Do you have any siblings?” Garcia asked.

“One brother and one adoptive brother in a way.”

“Like family friend?” Hotch asked.

You nodded your head.

“James and Steve.” You smiled.

The team smiled slightly, they could see the pure happiness on your face as you spoke about them.

“What’re they like?” Derek asked.

Everyone sat down, wanting to learn more about you.

“Well. James has always been headstrong, stubborn. He was always looking out for me and Steve when we were kids. Now Steve looks out for James, and both of them are inseparable. I was more of the lone wolf out of us three I suppose.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Rossi said.

You gave a small smile and a little shrug as you looked up.

“I suppose not, no.”

“So! Where were you born? What did you do as a kid?”

You turned to Garcia.

“Well, I was born in Brooklyn. I used to spend a lot of time reading, and running around outside.”

They all nodded and you looked back at the table.

You could remember back to those days. They were hazy, nothing but burned out memories.

The laughter you gave back then seemed fake now, you don’t remember laughing like that, not for a very long time.

You couldn’t even make out the full imagines of you as a child, they were so blurred.

Snapping out of your head, you gave the team a strained smile.

“Sorry, I’m tired I’m going to go home.”

Climbing out of the booth you stuffed your hands into your pockets and rushed out of the bar as quickly as possible.

Once you were outside you took a deep breath, taking your hand out your pockets you tangled your fingers into the chain of the dog tags.

Your hand was shaking, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“(Y/N)?”

Quickly stuffing your hand back into your pocket, you cleared your throat and looked to your side where Hotch was stood.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Yeah everything’s fine.”

“The team wants you to know their sorry for upsetting you.”

“I’m not upset.”

Hotch turned to you before looking back out to the street.

You started to walk and he walked in line with you.

“I can go home by myself.” You said.

“We’re neighbours and I happen to need to head back anyways.”

You gave a small scoff and shook your head at him.

“You know, talking about what’s upsetting you will help.”

“I’m fine Hotch.”

He didn’t press it anymore, so he said nothing else on the subject.

“Well, whatever it is just know we’re here for you.”

Looking up at him, he smiled softly down at you and you gave a fake smile as you turned away.

You guys walked in silence for a while.

“Hotch?”

“Yeah?”

You didn’t say anything at first but you stopped and tilted your head towards you the sky, watching as the occasional cloud rolled over the moon.

“Do you believe in redemption?”

Hotch stopped and looked at you in confusion.

“I believe that if someone wants to make amends for the things they did then they can, people can change it’s just whether or not they’re willing to.”

You nodded your head before walking away.

Hotch followed behind you with a small frown on his face, there was more to you. Much more, things you were keeping hidden and he wanted to know what they were.

He knew there wasn’t going to be any chance that you were ever going to tell them anything, but he hoped in time you would soon come to trust them enough to let them help with that was eating away at you

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotcher imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #broken souls

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself.

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo card, and also for @railmereid‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week.

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.”

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?”

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?”

“Shocking.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly.

“A what?”

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be.

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”

“That’s… a good question, honestly.”

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly.

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.”

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.”

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer.

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan.

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid?

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess?

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic.

You’re used to that, though.

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops.

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?”

“Please.”

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake.

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags.

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?”

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet.

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?”

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face.

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open.

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily.

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.”

“Holy—”

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face.

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.”

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —”

You grin. “I came prepared, though!”

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly.

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused.

“It’s essential viewing.”

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?”

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better.

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.”

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message.

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you.

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder.

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care.

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw.

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed.

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.”

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.”

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?”

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns.

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.”

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs.

“Of course they are.”

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning.

“It’s all washable, Spencer.”

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —”

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist.

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains.

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed.

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit.

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close.

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.”

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum.

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have.

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen.

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing.

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up.

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin.

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing.

His eyes light up.

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun.

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!”

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile.

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.”

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white.

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting.

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing.

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.”

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly.

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.”

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.”

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.”

“Or we can pretend it is.”

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under.

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds.

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight.

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring.

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.”

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying.

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.”

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy —

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Safety?”

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.”

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.”

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —”

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you.

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation.

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply.

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.

He stares.

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it.

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real.

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.”

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It really is.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

Would u write something about Mac first words being "dad" o "daddy" and Jake GOING INSANE about that? I think it would be really special to him bc all his story with his dad and all his fear on becoming

He'd taken his eyes off of him for five seconds - the card machine at the bodega was giving him some prompt he'd never seen before - so of course something had to happen. Jake still mostly banked on Mac being unable to walk freely for more than a few steps from him, but he should've really factored in all the perfect toddler-height shelving that he could use as railings to get a whole aisle over before he and the cashier flinched from the sound of a crash.

And then the crying started.

The cashier was actually faster than him, given a headstart from not having to drop an entire basket of shopping to run over, but Jake was directly behind her to see his kid sitting on the ground, a puddle of something slopping around him and half over him. Pasta sauce, he realised as he saw the wobbly carton display that had obviously not been as steady as the metal shelves Mac had been holding onto before.

"Da...!" Mac sobbed with outstretched arms towards him. "Da-heee..." He wailed again with tears streaming down his face while Jake lifted him up, covering himself in sauce too as Mac clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Daddy's here, bud. It's okay. It's okay." He bounced him up and down as the crying slowed, cursing himself out in his head all the while. How did he let him wander away like that? Why did he not notice sooner? He'd been careless and stupid and irrespsonsible and a horrible fath-

"Is he okay?" The cashier still looked far more worried at them than at the mess she'll have to clean up now, and it gladly brought him back to centre as the only real adult in the room right now (she can't be more than 17, he thinks).

"Yeah, just spooked. I'm so sorry, I'll pay for the sauce of course-" Jake stopped as Mac lifted his head off his shoulder again, eyes red-rimmed but not crying anymore, at least, only to see that his forehead was less covered in pasta sauce and more smeared with blood from a cut over his eyebrow, and his heart dropped even deeper than when he heard the crash. "Actually, do you sell bandaids?"

-*-

"It's okay, peanut. Daddy's fixing it." He forces his voice to be soft and calm while Mac sniffles, sitting on the counter, the cashier picking up Jake's dropped shopping bags while he cleans the little cut with the alcohol wipes she'd handed him without even ringing them up. It's not that bad, he tries to comfort himself fruitlessly, just a little nick that bled a bit more than usual, but should be fine with a bandaid and some lotion. It's fine. He didn't- he didn't let Mac get actually injured. He didn't. Even though his subconscious was screaming nothing else at him.

Mac's eyes are still swimming while he stares up at Jake, unblinking, clinging to his fake-soft smile as probably the only thing to convince him there was no need to cry at the moment. You and me both, Jake thinks for a second.

"Daddeh." He squeaks softly as Jake sticks on a puppy-themed bandaid (also not rung up), and grabs his hand with his little grubby fingers, and time kind of stops for a moment as they look at each other. Mac's eyes are big and still slightly red-rimmed, but trained on him like there's nothing else in the world but them, and for Jake, there might as well not be.

"See, Daddy fixed it." The cashier breaks through, smiling at him too as she hands Jake his shopping with the bandaid box dropped in, and time loops back into normal. She gets a soft Thanks and a nod after she hands him his card from the blasted machine that started it all, too, and doesn't even mention the several jars broken an aisle over. She waves goodbye to Mac instead as they leave, and Jake is definitely leaving the largest bills he has in her tip jar next time they come in.

-*-

Mac's splashing water and bubbles around in his small tub, because the sauce had leaked through his dungarees straight over his legs, and Jake is busy scrubbing him down with the soft loofah that'll probably have to go into the trash after all this. There's too much swirling through his head while he carefully showers Mac off. A whole barrage of emotion he'd love to just aimlessly ramble out, but there's no one to listen to him in their little apartment right now, the only person who'd maybe understand him still stuck at work. He looks at the puppy bandaid on Mac's forehead that he'll have to change after the bath, at his happy face playing with the little ducky that makes such fun squeaky noises when it's filled with water, no sign of tears or pain left at all.

"Hey, Mac-a-roni." Jake whispers while Mac giggles and splashes some more water out of the baby-tub into the big one it was sitting in. "You... said something at the bodega, didn't you?"

Mac had been babbling and making noises for months now, lots of Goos and Gaas, the occasional Bleh and Duh thrown in, but Jake and Amy had agreed that none of those had been discernible as words yet, especially as they were never directed at anything in particular. Not like on the counter back there, staring straight at him with his big, chocolate eyes after that little parenting disaster he still wanted to scold himself for. Not like right now, soap bubbles clinging to his curls, smiling up at him in the comforting moment of their usual night routine.

"Daddeh!" Mac squeaks again, holding his arms out to be picked up into a towel like always, but held against Jake's chest much tighter than usual. He's trying not to cry, very hard, but he's sure his eyes are swimming and shiny as much as Mac's were while he was being bandaged up.

"Daddeh." He repeats as Jake laughs, breathlessly, kisses up and down his perfect chubby cheeks for some more squeals and laughter from them both, hugs him close again and again even as he dries him off and gets him dressed.

There's something warm glowing in his chest, Jake feels as he dances Mac to sleep to abuela's Spanish lullaby tape, something that feels both familiar and foreign at once. It reminds him of the feeling that shook all through him when that firefighter placed a screaming, goo-covered baby onto Amy's chest as she cried and carefully touched the dark whisps of hair already matted to his head. That feeling that settled around his heart for forever as Rosa handed him a cleaned up, swaddled baby that wasn't screaming anymore, his eyes closed but his teensy tiny hand wrapping tight around Jake's finger. It's a little different - but it's not, it's more of the same, but grown. Added on, like a new bud on an already flowering tree.

Jake is sure there'll be lots of new blooms on that feeling in the years to come, but this one, the one that opens up even more as Mac sighs one more little "Daddeh" as he falls asleep against his shoulder, will surely be remembered for forever.

-*-

He has enough wherewithal to warn Amy about the bandaid when she gets home and immediately moves to check on sleeping Mac, and she only rolls her eyes when she drops down onto the couch next to him after softly closing the nursery door.

"Do I even want to hear the story of the bandaid?"

"It wasn't anything. Just a little accident at the bodega. He's fine." Jake's actually convinced himself of that now, too, so it sounds believable enough.

"Alright." Amy nods, he swallows back down the worries he thought about sharing if she asked him to still explain instead. "Aside from that, how was your day with him? Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." Jake tries to grin and pulls her in to lean against his side as she rests her head on his shoulder, seeming almost as sleepy as Mac was when he did it earlier. "We went to the park and the post office and the bank and the bodega, obviously. A whole Brooklyn adventure."

"That's nice." Amy says in a quiet voice, and he wonders if he'll have to carry her to bed in a second.

"And, well." He hesitates, and that is enough to make her lift her head. Maybe he shouldn't say it. Maybe he should wait until the morning, let her discover it on her own, and pretend like it's the first time he's hearing it too. Forget about how it all came about today.

"Well what?"

"He said something."

"What?! Why didn't you lead with that? Why didn't you text me?!?" She sits up, staring at him with wide eyes, and he looks - apologetic, almost worried.

"I didn't want you to feel bad because you missed it." And didn't want to explain how I fucked up to make it happen.

"Oh." She visibly deflates, but then smiles at him. "But you heard it, right? He said it in front of you?"

"Yeah. He, uh. Actually. He said daddy. To me."

Jake completely misinterprets Amy's face, her scrunched together eyebrows, her shining eyes, her mouth softly opening and closing, and immediately leans forward with a hand on her arm to console her.

"I'm sure he's going to say Mama next, Ames - he's already going 'Mah' all the time, so-"

"He called you daddy?" Her voice is so soft, almost breaking, as he feels her hands on his cheek. "Jake, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He nods with a shy smile, but Amy's face only softens more.

"You're his first word." She says with so much reverance, and he can't feel bad about it anymore. Can't think he doesn't really deserve it, not when she looks at him with that much love in her eyes. "You're Mac's first word."

"I'm daddeh." His smile isn't so shy anymore, not when he says it out loud like that, not when it feels 100% right.

"You're really daddy, babe. You're daddy."

He huffs and smiles even wider with another nod, and that feeling is back, that little warm glow blooming in his chest, and Amy is quick to wipe away the few tears that make their way down his cheeks all of a sudden before bending forward for a kiss.

"DADDEH!" echoes through the room from behind a closed door where someone is clearly not interested in sleeping anymore, and Amy laughs against his lips.

"See?"

"I'm gonna go and get him." Jake sighs happily.

"Oh please." She nods as he gets up. "I want to see him say it to you."

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic #mac peralta

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Love and Admiration Part 36- Man of Your Dreams

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for dry humping, dom/sub themes, praise kink, oral (female receiving)

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

The door to Bakugo’s apartment is unlocked for you so you walk in as soon as you arrive before locking it back behind you. You’re surprised to find the apartment silent, having expected at the very least the sound of the tv going or perhaps of Katsuki cooking in the kitchen. You wander around his apartment in search of him, flicking on some of the light switches since the only light seems to be coming from the sunset through the large bay windows on the far wall. You’re about to flick the lights on in the living room when you finally spot Katsuki and suck in a breath. He’s fallen asleep on his couch, clad in gray joggers and the hoodie you bought him. The black “Are you still watching?” message from Netflix on the tv indicates he must’ve fallen asleep while watching something and it makes a warm fondness bloom in your chest.

You step further into the living room, reaching for the remote and then turning off the tv before moving to sit on the floor in front of the couch. The golden and red orange light from the setting sun plays through his hair and dances over his features. He looks so gentle like this and you can’t help but try to commit the image to memory. You’re not at all surprised he’s exhausted, he’d worked an early morning shift again and has still been recovering from the sleepless nights he’d had when you two were fighting. You’re happy to see that the bags under his eyes are finally fading and you can’t resist the temptation to reach out and press a gentle kiss to his forehead before carding your fingers through his hair. You’re not sure how long you sit there just combing your fingers through the blonde strands and drinking in the sight of him, but eventually he stirs slightly. He sighs into your touch, the only indication at first that he’s woken up at all, before his eyes finally flutter open, crimson irises meeting your (y/e/c) ones. They slip shut almost immediately afterwards as he reaches to pull you onto the couch. “C’mere Princess,” he mutters sleepily and how could you possibly refuse when he looks so soft? So you allow him to pull you on top of him, one arm wrapping around your waist as you pillow your head against his chest. “You like watchin’ me sleep, huh?” he asks, voice rough and deeper than normal since he’s only just woken up. “I do. You looked like you were having a good dream,” you hum. “I was,” comes his easy reply as his hand rubs circles into your back. “I’m sorry I woke you then.” “Don’t be. I was dreaming of you,” he admits, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. You pull back so you can look at him properly, searching his face for a sign he’s messing with you. “You’re kidding,” you say incredulously but that only makes the smug and sleepy smirk on his face grow wider as he shakes his head. “I’m not. The reality is much better though,” he says before leaning up to press a kiss to your lips.

All of the warmth that had been filling you while you’d watched him and then processed his sweet words overflows now, spilling into the gentle kiss you two share. Slowly the kiss starts to turn heated as you open your mouth to allow his tongue inside to tangle with yours. You feel the moment his dick starts to take an interest, gradually starting to harden as his hands roam underneath your shirt to slide along your bare waist. Soon he flips the two of you over so you’re pinned beneath him, grinding his hips down against you in a way that has both of you groaning into each other’s mouths. There’s no rush to your actions though as he continues to grind down into you and you cant your hips up to meet his. He drops his mouth from your lips to your neck, nipping the delicate skin there before soothing it with his tongue, making sure to leave marks. One of your hands grasps at his back, urging his hips to continue their rhythm but the other tangles into his hair as you gasp at the continued attention. You eventually tug him back up to meet your lips again and when you next roll your hips up to meet his you’re delighted at the low keening moan it wrenches from his throat. His hips start to stutter in their rhythm, a sign he’s getting close to his climax, so he starts to pull back but you push down on his back and bring your hips up to encourage him to keep going. You separate your lips from his only to bring it to the shell of his ear. “Don’t stop, want you to cum for me,” you whisper and you can tell by the shiver that runs through him and the muttered curse that drops from his lips that he’s going to listen.

When you grind your hips up again, Katsuki eagerly meets you halfway, the fabric of his sweatpants providing extra friction against his weeping cock. “You’re being such a good boy for me Katsuki,” you praise and it only seems to spur him on more as more curses spill from his lips and he continues to hump against your leg. “F-fuck Princess, I’m gonna-“ he whines. “Do it,” you reply, “let go for me baby.” He grinds against you one final time before he’s spilling his load into his sweatpants with a strangled cry, darkening the gray fabric. “Shit,” he huffs breathlessly as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Think you can make your Princess feel good now too?” you ask coyly. “Fuck yes,” he all but growls before kissing you until you’re as breathless as he is as he encourages you to slide further up the couch so you can lean your back against the arm of it. He then settles himself between your legs, watching hungrily as he pulls your bottoms and panties down to reveal your dripping sex. He wastes no time burying his face between your thighs, licking a long stripe along your folds before slipping his tongue into your pussy. “Shit, just like that. Feels so good,” you groan as his tongue drags along your inner walls. His rough palms keep your legs spread for him as you slowly start to fall apart above him. “You’re doing so well Katsuki, fuck. Right there,” you moan, your head falling back as your own climax draws nearer. One of his hands leaves your thigh to press circles into your sensitive clit and it doesn’t take long after that for your orgasm to come rushing over you with a cry of his name.

As you come down he presses kisses to your inner thigh before finally leaning up to kiss your lips again. “Such a good boy,” you coo breathlessly. The growl you get in response makes you laugh as Katsuki’s cheeks and ears turn pink. “Since when did you start giving orders?” he asks. “Since I realized you might actually listen. You’re pretty cute when you follow instructions,” you tease. “Watch it, Princess,” he growls in warning, fire sparking in his ruby red irises. “Or what?” you tease. He’s about to show you exactly how he intends to teach you a lesson when you’re both startled by a pounding at the door. “Yo lovebirds, It’s party time!” you hear Mina shout from the other side and you can’t help but laugh as Katsuki groans, his forehead falling to rest on your collar. “One second!” you call back, which only makes your boyfriend growl again. “C’mon, you know if we don’t hurry up she’ll melt down the door,” you laugh, pushing gently at Katsuki’s shoulders to encourage him to climb off the couch. “Fine, but I’m teaching you a fucking lesson later,” he huffs, nipping the skin at the base of your neck to emphasize his point before finally climbing off you. You hurry to pull back on your panties and bottoms as Bakugo moves to answer the door. “Wait!” you call out suddenly, lunging forward to catch his arm before he can get too far. “What? You’re the one who said Raccoon Eyes would melt my door,” he points out with a raised eyebrow. “I mean yea but maybe I should grab the door while you change?” you offer, pointedly looking down to the stain he’d left on his sweatpants earlier before meeting his eyes again. He curses under his breath, face turning a vibrant shade of red as he recalls the mess he’d made of his pants. “I’ll be back,” he grumbles before storming off towards his room and you can’t help but to laugh before the sound of Mina pounding on the door again has you making yourself presentable and rushing to answer it.

You hurry to fling the door open to find your friends on the other side, grinning with excitement and many carrying their own contributions to the alcohol stash for the night. You let them in and guide them to the kitchen to drop their cargo before you greet them all eagerly with hugs and excitement. Midoriya, Denki, and Kirishima especially give you a warm welcome since they hadn’t seen you at all since the last hang and don’t get to talk to you nearly as much as Shinso and the girls do. By the time you’ve finished saying hello, you’re alerted to Bakugo’s return by his arms wrapping carefully around your waist. “I guess you guys had fun waiting for us,” Shinso deadpans as he leans casually against the kitchen counter. “No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrug, leaning back into Katsuki’s warm embrace. “So the new hickeys on your neck just spontaneously appeared?” he asks, amusement evident in his smirk as you try to sputter out an excuse despite obviously being flustered. “We were having a lot of fun before you guys showed up. If you wanna fuck off-“ “Katsuki!” you interrupt him scandalized although your friends seem to find it infinitely more amusing than you do. They tease the two of you for awhile, even as drinks start to get poured and the party starts to begin in earnest, especially once they realize Bakugo is wearing the Mercury hoodie, but it’s all in good fun. In all honesty it warms your heart a little to have this. You can’t help but be struck by how lucky you are to finally have the man of your dreams and friends that support your relationship so wholeheartedly.

As the others start to move the party out of the kitchen, Katsuki holds you back before spinning you in his arms to face him. “I’m not fucking you in the kitchen when our friends are literally in the other room,” you say immediately, causing Katsuki to roll his eyes. “That’s not why I held you back idiot,” he huffs. “Oh! What is it then?” you ask, slightly sheepish. “You just seemed deep in thought ‘s all. You good?” he asks brusquely. A fond smile spreads over your face. “I’m more than good, I’m perfect. I was just thinking how glad I am to finally have you,” you explain happily. “Yea?” “Yea.” “Good. Me too.” When he slots your lips together this time you both know it’s more than just a simple kiss.

It’s also a silent promise of forever.

A/N: Another fic finished 🥲 thank you all so much for reading this and supporting me. Every like, reblog, and reply has meant the absolute world to me and I’m so grateful. If you liked this fic feel free to check out my others through my general masterlist or request to join the taglist for my next series Basic Instincts, starring my favorite bird boi Hawks

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys @theycallme-becky @superhermit @black-rose-29 @disaster-rose @fandomsgotmefucked @irenne-stans

#hopelessla #bakugo smau #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki #bnhacity #hopeless.thirst

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bibbawrites · 4 years

Text

I Want Your Midnights - Owen Joyner x Female Reader (SMUT - 18+)

Request: NONE

Word Count: 2568 words

Summary: You bring your boyfriend Owen home for your family New Years party, which ends with you getting a little more than a New Years kiss

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, oral s*x (both male and female receiving), squirting, slight overstimulation

A/N: this is literally just 2.5k words of self indulgent babble lol so this idea came into my mind and I couldn’t get it out, i know i should be working on requests but i just had to write this, sorry! as i said, this is very self indulgent, the way new years is described is exactly how my family and our neighbours (who are close friends at this point lol) celebrate each year so i couldn’t help myself sorry for any typos, its 4am lol hope you enjoy it!

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added, removed or if you change your url): @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals

Every single year your family celebrated New Years Eve exactly the same way.

Your neighbours across the road would set up a table and chairs on their driveway, and your family and your next door neighbours would head across the road for a barbeque and drinks under the stars, with the Christmas lights that covered the three houses shining in the darkness.

And then after food the kids would always head inside to play a board game or battle it out on Just Dance, only stopping at midnight to watch the New Years fireworks go off and to run around with sparklers.

That’s how New Years had been for as long as you could remember. Only this year, things were going to be slightly different.

You were bringing Owen, your boyfriend of just over a year. You had celebrated New Years apart the year before, opting for a text to wish each other happy new year instead.

But you’d been dating for over a year now, and you couldn’t wait for Owen to meet your friends and family, and have the chance to ring in the new year together.

Owen pulled his truck into your parent’s driveway, parking before turning to you, his eyes full of anxiety.

“You’ll be fine, they’re all gonna love you.” You assured him, grabbing onto his hand. He bit his lip.

“There’s just so many people to remember.” He sighed slightly. “Give me a recap?”

You nodded.

“So you know my family’s names, right? Mum is Alice, Dad James, brothers Tom, Will and Lucas.” You said, and he nodded, so you continued.

“Rose and Max own the house we’re going to, and their daughter is Sophie. Then our other neighbours, the ones next door, are Graham and Pam, and their daughters Violet and Bella. You’ve met Violet, she’s my best friend, remember?” Owen nodded again.

“I think I’ll survive your family, it’s just everyone else I’m worried about.” He told you. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand.

“It will be okay. I’ll make sure to introduce everyone when we get over there, okay?” You said, leaning across the car to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Now we should probably get inside and see if Mum needs help with anything.”

You climbed out of his truck, walking around to his side of the car and waiting for him to hop out, grabbing onto his hand when he did. He locked his truck and with a last reassuring squeeze you were leading him around to the front of your house.

“Do we knock?” He questioned as you reached the door. You giggled and shook your head.

“Knock knock!” You called out, opening the front door.

“It’s open.” Your mum’s voice called back from the kitchen. You led Owen down the hallway and into the kitchen, smiling widely when you saw your mum and dad stood behind the bench.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Your mum joked, and you dropped Owen’s hand to give her a quick hug, then your dad next. When you stepped back he grabbed onto you again.

“Mum, Dad, this is my boyfriend Owen. Owen, this is my mum Alice, and my dad James.” You introduced.

“It’s very nice to meet you sir and ma’am.” Owen smiled, and you squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“Oh please, call us Alice and James dear. It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you I feel like I already know you.” Your mother laughed. “This one never shuts up about you.”

You pouted.

“Don’t expose me.” You said. Owen grinned.

“It’s okay baby. if you asked my mum she’d say exactly the same thing.” He told you and you smiled up at him, before turning your attention back to your parents.

“Is there anything you need taken across the road?” You asked and your dad nodded.

“We were just about to take the chairs over, do you want to tell the boys and we’ll all head over now?” He suggested and you nodded, dragging Owen behind you as you went to find your three brothers.

After introducing Owen to your brothers and collecting the chairs from your garage, the seven of you headed across the road to where your neighbours had already set up the table and barbeque.

“Hello everyone!” Rose greeted from her spot next to the table with Sophie, as you made your way up the driveway.

“Ooh we’ve got a ring in.” Max joked, coming over from his spot behind the barbeque.

“This is my boyfriend Owen.” You introduced. “O, this is Rose and Max, and that’s Sophie.” You pointed to each one as you said their names.

Owen waved shyly and Rose smiled.

“Don’t be nervous, we’re all very nice.” She said and Owen smiled back. You placed your chairs down at the table, before turning to find your other neighbours heading up the driveway.

Violet was the first to reach you, throwing her arms around you.

“Hey friend!” She exclaimed as you hugged her back with one arm, your other hand linked tightly with Owen’s. She pulled away, grinning happily at your boyfriend.

“Hey Owen it’s good to see you again.” She said, pulling him into a hug too. You giggled at the slightly shocked expression that covered his face for a few seconds before he hugged her back.

“Nice seeing you too Violet.” He replied. She turned to her family.

“This is Y/N’s boyfriend Owen. Owen this is my mum Pam, my dad Graham and my sister Bella.” She said. Owen smiled at them.

“Howdy.” Graham greeted, while Pam and Bella just waved.

“Now.” Your mum spoke up. “Should we get this party started?”

Everyone settled in quickly, loud chatter filling the air as the sun went down. The three fathers headed over to the barbeque, Owen joining them tentatively, and you watched from your chair as your father handed him a beer and made sure to include him in the joking. You smiled, watching your boyfriend visibly relax which could have been because of the alcohol, but also could have been because of the fact that he could finally let go of the fear of being rejected by your friends and family.

“So Y/N, how did you meet?” Rose questioned, drawing your attention back to the women who were sat around the table.

“We met through a mutual friend, he was having a little halloween party and invited me and introduced me to Owen and we hit it off and started dating a few weeks later.” You explained.

“When was that?” Pam asked.

“Last year. We’ve been dating for a year and a month or so.” You told her. They all nodded.

“He seems like a good one.” Your mother said and you smiled, looking over to where Owen was stood, laughing at a joke Max had made.

“He is.” You agreed. “He’s a very good one.”

The dinner part of the night went well, everyone loudly joking around. Owen had fitted in well, confidently adding to stories and asking questions, and you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect the situation was.

After dinner, as per tradition, the kids of the three families headed inside, leaving the adults to sit and chat. You dragged Owen inside, sitting together on the couch as the younger kids decided what to play.

“Why don’t we go back outside and play hide and seek?” Bella suggested and when everyone agreed you all headed back outside and down the driveway onto the road.

“Oldest counts first.” Sophie said, and Violet groaned loudly before covering her eyes and beginning to count. You grabbed Owen’s hand, pulling him with you.

“I have the perfect hiding spot.” You told him, dragging him up into your front yard and into a small space between your house and a large bushy tree that concealed the two of you perfectly.

“You’re not scared of spiders, are you?” You questioned, and Owen’s eyes widened.

“I’m scared of all bugs, you know this.” He exclaimed in a hushed voice. You pulled an apologetic face, before an idea popped into your head.

“I know something that will keep your mind off it.” You said, before pulling his face down to kiss him passionately, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He groaned, pulling your body against his as he kissed you back, the two of you lost in your own little world.

“Ew oh my god, get a room!” Violet’s voice came and you and Owen jumped apart quickly.

“Shut up.” You replied and Violet laughed.

“Whatever. Found you, go join the other losers in the street.”

Midnight finally came around after hours of running around, playing Lego Rock Band on Xbox, and playing the family friendly version of Cards Against Humanity.

Everyone regathered in the living room, watching as the timer on the tv counted down, and you all joined in noisily.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!” You all cheered, and you grinned as Owen pulled you in to a soft kiss.

“Happy New Year O.” You mumbled against his lips. He smiled as he pulled away.

“Happy New Year.” He replied.

After exchanging well wishes with everyone you decided to head home, accepting your mother’s offer of staying the night in your childhood room.

You watched as Owen pulled his clothes off, leaving him in just his boxer briefs.

“Happy new year indeed.” You joked, your eyes raking his body. He blushed, stepping closer to you.

“Your turn.” He whispered, pulling on your dress and helping you take it off, leaving the two of you stood in just your underwear.

“Does your door lock?” Owen questioned softly, reaching out to run a hand down your side. You swallowed as you shook your head. He made a sound in disappointment.

“Guess we’ll just have to be careful then.” He said, closing the gap between you and lifting you up to kiss you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he spun around, placing you down onto your bed and climbing on top of you, reconnecting your lips.

You ran your hands through his long hair, scratching slightly on his scalp, causing him to moan into your mouth. He grinded his hips down into yours, causing you both to gasp at the contact, your kiss getting steamier by the second.

Owen broke the kiss, panting slightly.

“We don’t have a condom.” He muttered.

“That’s okay.” You kissed him softly. “We can improvise.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” He questioned. You nodded, pushing him off you and forcing him to lay back on your bed. You palmed his dick through his underwear and he groaned.

“Fuck Y/N.” He muttered. You shushed him.

“Don’t want to be caught, do we?” You said, before pulling at his underwear, letting his dick spring free.

Owen moaned as you lent down, licking a single line up his dick, swirling your tongue around the tip.

“Make sure you’re quiet for me baby.” You instructed, before taking his dick in your mouth, putting as much in as you could without choking and wrapping your hand around the remaining part. Owen’s hands tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head, licking and sucking on his dick and occasionally scraping your teeth gently along it to hear his shaky gasp.

“I’m close baby.” Owen warned eventually and you tapped on his thigh to let him know it was okay for him to cum, a signal you had been using since the first time you messed around with each other. You continued to bob your head, humming against his dick which was all he needed to tumble over the edge, his hot cum filling your mouth as he moaned into your pillow to stay quiet. After working him through his orgasm you pulled off his dick with a satisfying pop, before swallowing his cum and leaning down to kiss him.

“Your turn.” He instructed once you broke apart from the kiss, flipping you over so that you were laying on the bed. He quickly undid your bra, throwing it to the floor before kissing his way down your chest, pulling one of your nipples into his mouth. You bit your lip to hold back a moan as his tongue flicked at your sensitive nipple. He pulled away, before repeating the same actions with your other nipple, and once he was satisfied he began kissing his way down your abdomen, stopping only to pull your panties off.

He spread your legs before making himself comfortable between them. He lent down, sucking a hickie into both of your inner thighs.

“Owen.” You moaned quietly and he grinned up at you.

“That’s it baby, you ready?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You said, your tone verging on begging.

He grinned again, before burying his face in your pussy, his tongue flicking at your clit as you bit into your pillow to stay quiet.

“Delicious.” He commented cheekily, before slipping his tongue inside you, his hand coming up to massage your clit as he tongue fucked you.

“If you keep doing that I won’t last.” You warned and he ignored you, his tongue flicking faster.

“Owen.” You groaned, as he moved his mouth back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. “I’m gonna...”

You were cut off by your orgasm shaking your body, moaning quietly into the pillow.

Owen looked up at you, giving you a cheeky look before continuing his assault on your now extremely sensitive clit.

“Owen what are you doing?” You questioned shakily. He laughed, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

“Helping you start the new year right.” He explained before returning his attention to your pussy, his tongue flicking at your clit once more.

It didn’t take long for the familiar feeling of your orgasm to reappear, and you warned Owen quickly, gasping when he sucked your clit back into his mouth as a response.

Your orgasm hit quickly, and to both of your shock you squirted all over Owen’s face. He pulled away, staring at you in shock.

“Holy fuck.” He said after a moment. Too exhausted to reply you just nodded.

“Fuck.” Was all you could get out. Owen grinned.

“I didn’t know I could make her squirt.” He muttered, mostly to himself, as he grabbed one of the towels your mother had left out for the two of you to use in the morning, wiping his face and chest with it, before heading back to you.

“You okay baby?” He questioned, wiping your thighs that were covered in liquid from when you squirted.

“Yeah just exhausted.” You said, letting Owen clean you up.

Once he was done he grabbed your underwear from the floor and helped you pull it back on before offering you his shirt he had been wearing, which you accepted sleepily. He pulled his boxer briefs on before pulling back the covers of your bed and helping you in, climbing in next to you.

You yawned, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Happy new year O, I love you.” You whispered.

“Happy new year, I love you too.” He replied, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You snuggled closer and not long after that you found yourself falling asleep, ready for another new year with your amazing boyfriend.

#owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen joyner x reader #reader insert #smut #sorry for the typos #this is v self indulgent

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flaminpumpkin · 4 years

Text

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes.

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement.

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen.

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels.

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion.

“What?”

Something caught his eyes.

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center.

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce,

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing.

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time?

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen.

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place.

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor.

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night.

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to.

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries.

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis.

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites.

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions.

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway.

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in.

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness.

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him.

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin.

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace.

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family.

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing.

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room.

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest.

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts.

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone.

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket.

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

#batfam #bruce and his kids #that's it #batlantern #at the end #as a treat #cuz I love these old men #bruce wayne #batman #happy birthday batsy #this was supposed to be a short drabble i don't know what happened #clemwrites

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aereres · 4 years

Text

For You, I'd Become Hercules | 2 | - Auston Matthews

Summary: A happy life with Tyson. That was what you and Auston had been expecting ever since you had moved in. The universe, though, had other plans.

A/N: Here it is! Oh-my-God I couldn’t wait to finally post part two!

Word Count: 5,3k

Warnings: smut, lots of panic and crying, stalking, creepy people, court and lawsuits lmao I think that’s all

“Daddy,” Tyson whined when Emily, his kindergarten teacher, told the parents it was time to leave. “I don’t want you to go,”

“Tys, c’mon, be a good boy,” Auston kneeled near his little boy, gently caressing his back. “You’ll have fun with all the other kids,”

“I’ll pick you up in only a couple of hours, baby,” you whispered, wiping the tear that slipped past Tyson’s eye before kissing his cheek. Your own eyes were glossy, it was hard for you to actually see.

When Auston looked up at you to find some sort of help, you saw just how much everything was affecting him too. Tyson was slowly growing up, already headed off to Kindergarten, and it was especially hard for your lover to let him go. Auston had been his father for years, but he had never thought seeing him start school was going to be that hard, never.

If you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings, you would have thought it was an angel calling for Tyson; instead, it was a little girl dressed in yellow, her red hair in a high ponytail. “Do you wanna color with me?”

Tyson’s teary eyes left Auston to settle on the little girl, who was pushing a blank paper his way, a bag full of crayons in her other hand. The little boy nodded his head, wiping the remaining tears on his cheeks quickly before sitting down next to her, leaving you and Auston on your own.

“Do we really have to leave?” Auston whispered, watching over his kid, who was smiling like crazy already.

“I think we should,” you mumbled with a strangled giggle, noticing the glances the teacher was giving the two of you, the only parents left inside the classroom. You left the overly decorated room after saying goodbye to Tyson and his new friend, Tiffany.

Your hand slipped into Auston’s when the door was shut behind you, heading towards the car to get back home. The drive was silent, Auston’s hand still linked with yours over the console as he kept his eyes on the packed road.

He missed the turn to reach your condo, instead driving straight away from the city until he reached the top of a hill. He turned the car off just then, finally letting you take in the landscape, the CN Tower seeming so distant from your spot.

The silence inside the car was enough to activate the crowd of thoughts that had been sitting inside your head for what felt like months, your thumb mindlessly caressing the back of Auston’s hand.

After the family trip to Cabo, everything had seemed to move so fast. You had been busy with work, but tried to spend as much time as possible with your boys, which then led to Auston asking you to move in.

It had been a big step, if you had to admit it. Your life after officially living with him and Tyson, though, had become the best life somebody could ask for. You didn’t mind waking up in the middle of the night to Tyson’s crying because of a bad dream, or you didn’t mind packing lunches for three one bit. Secretly, it was the life you had wished for ever since you had been Tyson’s age.

Auston sniffled from your side, catching your attention and finally snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked at him, noticing his red, swollen eyes and his still wet cheeks.

“Aus-”

“He’s just- he’s growing so fast,” he whispered, biting on his lip as he squeezed your hand. “I’m really happy, you know, just kind of shocked he’s leaving us already,”

“It’s just kindergarten, baby,” you reassured him, wiping his cheeks with your palms before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“He’ll be in college before we know it, Y/N,”

You laughed at that, making a smile appear on his own lips as he turned the car back on. “Let’s just focus on the moment,” you whispered, smiling his way before leaning in to kiss him again. “And he’s already made a friend, there’s nothing to worry about,”

“What’s her name, again?”

“Tiffany,” the glare you gave him was enough to make him laugh. “Auston, you’ll have to start remembering his friends’ names, from now on,”

“I will, I will!”

Tyson was running to you with a wide smile the moment you hopped off the car, tackling your legs in a hug. “Mommy!”

“Hey, little man!” You said excitedly, ruffling his hair before sending a quick wave to the teacher. As you propped him into your arms, he started talking about his day, he showed you his drawings when you were strapping him into his seat, and you weren’t shocked to see him fast asleep in the backseat just a few minutes later.

The ride back to your condo was short, with the radio playing lightly in the background as Tyson’s slow breathing filled the car. He didn’t wake up when you propped him back in your arms when you parked the car in the building’s garage, but snapped his eyes open excitedly when he heard the sound of his father’s and godfather’s voice.

“Mitchy!”

You let him to the ground, watching him run towards Mitch and hug his legs in less than a second. “Little man!”

You walked towards the kitchen, reaching the three of them and leaning against Auston’s side. Tyson had already been lifted on top of the island, his shoes barely off as he gained the attention of everyone before he started his monologue about his first school day.

Mitch was listening closely, giving Tyson every ounce of his attention as Auston smiled tenderly. “And I also made a friend! Her name is Tiffany!”

“Tyson is already finding girlfriends, I see,” Mitch teased, tickling his tummy as the two of them laughed. “‘Atta boy!”

Tyson laughed, finally able to skim away from Mitch’s hands and finish his story about the day. By the end, his eyes were droopy, barely staying awake as he tried to focus on what his godfather was saying.

“Let’s go take a nap, Tys,” you whispered, lifting him into your arms before you walked to his room, gently helping him inside his bed. You let your eyes stay on his sleeping form for a little while, gently carding a hand through his hair as you zoned out.

You didn’t hear the front door close, but you were snapped out of your thoughts by a gentle hand on your shoulder, your head snapping around to meet Auston’s eyes.

“Thank you for picking him up,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close to his chest.

“Of course,” you breathed out as you leaned on the tip of your toes, meeting his lips in a soft kiss. His hands sneaked down to your waist, holding you tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Oh my God,” he chuckled between kisses. “Not here,”

You giggled, remembering just then you were still in Tyson’s room. He picked you up in less than a second, expertly leading the two of you to his bedroom right after shutting Tyson’s door.

Everything seemed to move so quickly as he sat on your shared bed, your legs straddling his waist as the two of you made out. Your shirt came off pretty quickly, followed soon by his, and you let your hands wander around the newfound skin of his chest.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly, his breathing uneven as he let his forehead rest against yours. You nodded your head, grabbing his hands and putting them on your body, giving him your consent. His eyes darkened, positioning you on your back, his body sliding back on top of yours in less than a second.

What had happened after that became history, just two bodies moving against each other in their own first, love-filled dance. You found yourself lying in Auston’s arms a few hours later, your eyes still groggy from the nap and your body feeling pleasantly sore.

“Hey,” Auston whispered, his fingers running through your hair as he smiled at you.

“What time is it?”

“Just a little after five,”

You mindlessly drew shapes on his chest as you relaxed against him, never letting your eyes leave his.

“I love you,” he whispered, everything he had been thinking about spilling from his mouth before he could have even stopped himself. “And it’s fine if you still don’t, you know? I just felt like you should have known,”

Your heart stopped beating for a quick second at his words, a big smile forming on your lips right after his declaration. “Auston?”

He didn’t respond, just hummed your way as his eyes stayed on your intertwined hands. “I love you, too,”

-----

Tyson ran towards you after another day of school, his entire body excited for what was about to come right after the two of you would get inside the car: his first-ever ice hockey practice.

The small duffle bag was already waiting for him in the backseat, with the tiny skates and the hockey stick they wouldn’t be using for a while, since everyone in the course still wasn’t able to skate.

“Mommy!” He squealed excitedly, jumping in your arms before having you buckle him inside his seat.

“Ready for practice, big boy?” You asked, kissing the top of his head quickly. “We’re picking up auntie Steph on the way,”

He smiled excitedly, looking out of the window as you stepped around the car, closing his door behind yourself. You felt like you were being watched again, the same feeling you had felt that morning when you had dropped Tyson off.

The front of the school was still packed with mothers, fathers, grandparents picking up their little ones, but it didn’t take much for you to figure out who was looking - rather, glaring - at you.

She stood to the side, sketchily smoking a cigarette as her black hair flowed over her shoulders because of the breeze, showing off a big tattoo near her neck. Her eyes never left yours as you stepped inside the car, giving her one last look through the rearview mirror before speeding off towards the rink.

Tyson talked your ears off about his day, but it was hard for you to follow through with his monologue as your mind went back to the woman in the parking lot. You picked Steph up quickly before heading towards the rink, keeping quiet the entire car ride until you unbuckled Tyson from his seat.

“You okay?” Steph whispered, her hand placed carefully on your back as you grabbed Tyson’s bag for him. “You seem kind of shocked,”

“I’ll tell you later,” you mumbled, letting your eyes scan the rink’s parking lot to reassure yourself Tyson was safe. Entering the doors, you were greeted by the coach: a patient-looking man in his fifties whose face lightened up as soon as he saw Tyson.

“Tyson Matthews?” He asked, kneeling down to your boy’s height to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

He later pointed you and Steph to the stands, where a couple more moms and dads were sitting, looking at their kids on the ice.

“You’re worrying me, Y/N,” Steph admitted when the two of you sat down, your leg bouncing anxiously as you looked around the rink for any sign of the woman. “What’s happening?”

“This morning I brought Tyson to kindergarten,” you started, your eyes finally meeting hers as you explained your side of the story. “I felt like I was being watched, you know, as if someone was looking at me,

“I picked Tys up earlier and this woman was watching us, it was creepy,” you admitted, taking a quick look at your phone before letting your eyes find Tyson in the middle of the rink, laughing with another kid. “I’ve never seen her, no idea on who she is,”

“Maybe you should tell Auston,”

“But what if it’s just a coincidence?” You whispered, rubbing your temples with a sigh. “I’ll just- I’ll wait a little and see what happens. He’s already so busy with practice and all,”

“I just want you and Tys to be safe, alright?”

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath. You tried to relax, letting the sound of skates on ice and kids’ laughter lull you into a state of calmness until almost all the anxiety left your body for the night.

Tyson quickly waved your way, smiling up at you as he showed you he had already learned how to skate. With a proud smile on your lips, you took a video for Auston, and decided to let the entire matter about the woman leave your mind.

Your kid was on the ice for the first time, it was a moment you just couldn’t forget.

-----

You were sure nothing would ever make you as happy as seeing Tyson on the ice did. He seemed to love hockey just like his father did, spending hours on hours on the iced surface just to have some fun.

He had been able to go to one of the team’s practices, he had skated next to his dad, shot pucks as best as he could, and played around with the coaches and the rest of the team. It looked like the kid and the ice were made for one another, and you and Auston couldn’t help but be extremely proud of your boy.

Standing by the glass of the rink, you watched Tyson with his teammates and coach, running after their respective pucks with mini sticks. Aaliyah was on the phone with you, ranting about what her current boyfriend had done during the previous days, her voice annoyed.

“And guess what! He was at the bar with his friends all that time!”

“No way,” you muttered in shock, stifling a laugh when you heard your best friend pouring herself what you could only guess was wine.

“Yeah, and when I went up to talk to him he became super bitchy,” Aaliyah sighed, probably shaking her head. “I’m proud to call him my ex, now,”

“It was time you dropped that asshole,” you admitted, letting your eyes scan the rink, finding Tyson in the middle of the ice, handling his puck with a smile on his lips. When you looked up, though, you realized there was more to the picture.

Behind him, right on the opposite side of where you were standing, stood the woman. The one with the black hair, with the tattoo on her neck. Seeing her there made it clear: it wasn't just a coincidence anymore.

"Man, that guy was truly a douche. He couldn't even make me cum," Aaliyah mumbled in your ear, but you barely even registered her words.

You stared the woman down, deciding what your next move would have been. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"A, I'll call you later," you muttered quickly before ending the call, making your way around the rink to confront the woman. She had been at your neck for days, following you and Tyson around. You were done with it.

She was quick to run away from you, but it didn't stop you from chasing her. You had made it to the exit of the rink, but when your eyes scanned the parking lot, she was nowhere to be seen. No trace of her around you.

Breathless and angry, you went back to your previous place on the stands. Nothing was holding you back anymore, at that point.

You needed to find that woman.

-----

“No, I don’t think we should advertise it like that, honestly-” your co-worker Martha began speaking, the loud sound of your ringtone interrupting the conversation. Looking down at the screen, you realized Tyson’s kindergarten was calling.

“I’m so sorry, I have to take this one,” you muttered, heart beating out of your chest as you left the meeting room. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Y/L/N? I’m Emily, Tyson’s teacher,” the woman on the other side spoke. “I called to inform you that someone has been trying to pick Tyson up the entire morning,”

You stopped in your tracks, your eyes bulging out of your head as Emily kept explaining. “She was consistent, didn’t want to leave after we explained to her she wasn’t authorized to pick Tyson up,”

“Can you- can you give me a brief description of her?”

“Uh- dark, long hair, tall, in her twenties,”

It was her. The woman that had been following you all that time. And she had tried to pick Tyson up.

“You didn’t let her take Tyson, right?” You asked, tears springing to your eyes as you panicked.

“Obviously, we didn’t,” she reassured you. “Are you okay, Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“I- uh, I’ve been feeling worried about Tyson’s safety. That woman has been following us for quite a while, now,”

“We can ban her, if it would make you feel safer,” Emily gently said. “I’d also recommend talking to the authorities about it, ma’am,”

“I’ll be there to pick Tyson up in ten,” you shakily said, ending the conversation with the teacher with a quick ‘goodbye’ before leaving your workplace. You had never felt that scared in your entire life, barely holding on as you pulled up to the kindergarten, your heart beating out of your chest.

Before entering the school, you grabbed your phone, dialing Auston’s number. Just as you thought you were going to be sent to his voicemail, his voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Babe?”

“Auston, we- we have a problem,” you sniffled, running a hand through your hair as you looked out of the car window.

“What’s happening, baby?” He asked, sounding worried, too. “Please, talk to me,”

“I’m picking Tyson up right now,” you whispered, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Can you come home as soon as possible? We’ll talk there,”

“Sure,” he stuttered out. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, I’ll see you later,”

When you had finally reached home, Tyson speeded off to his room, obviously after greeting his father. You were sure you had never seen Auston that worried in your entire life, a frown masking his face when he saw your teary gaze.

Without even saying a word, he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in a warm hug as you finally let the tears fall. You felt extremely anxious; your worries for Tyson, for Auston, for your own self, were overwhelming.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” Auston whispered in your hair, swaying your bodies to lull you.

“This- this woman,” you sobbed, your tears staining his hoodie. “She’s been following Tyson and me for months,”

Auston’s shock was evident when he quickly cupped your cheeks, attentively making eye contact with you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just- I thought it was just a coincidence. She was always at the kindergarten, I thought she was just there to pick up her kid,” you admitted. “But then I also started seeing her at the rink, and today Emily called me to tell me that woman had attempted to pick Tyson up multiple times,”

“Fuck,” Auston muttered, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at you. “We should probably call the police,” He sat on the couch, wrapping his arms around you when you settled next to him. “Can you maybe describe her for me?”

“Black hair, skinny, tall,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if it’s helpful, but she always wears red lipstick,”

Something clicked inside Auston’s mind, you could have told. Pictures of her crowded his mind as he tried comparing her and the woman you had described. Scrambling for something he remembered her for, he could only come up with one of the most obvious things about her. Tattoos.

“Does she have a neck tattoo? Close to the shoulder area,”

With your eyebrows scrunched, you nodded your head, remembering quite easily about the inked skin you had noticed. His head dropped in his hands, making your heart beat against your ribcage heavily. “What are you thinking, Aus?”

“That’s Jessica,”

Tyson’s mother.

-----

Auston had never thought she would have come back. She had made it clear that night: she wasn’t going to come back; and yet, there she was. She had been following his son and his girlfriend around, creeping around them like a stalker, scaring them to death.

They didn’t deserve it, at all, was all he thought. He had never seen Y/N that shocked in his entire life, tears of fear and worry streaming down her face. It made his blood boil, it made him angry to see her like that. Jessica was going to pay.

With a sigh, he looked at himself in the foggy mirror: the dark bags under his eyes - the first thing you could notice about his appearance - were the result of a couple sleepless nights spent to figure out what he was going to do, how he was going to help you. His unshaven stubble peeked out, reminding him of all the mornings spent in front of papers, trying to solve the big knot that was child custody, something he had been so clueless about for his entire life.

And then came his eyes. They were filled with anger, with frustration.

He had been the happiest man on Earth ever since Y/N had come back in his life, stealing his heart all over again; Jessica wasn’t going to ruin his life just when he was at his happiest.

-----

“So we should settle for a restraining order?” Auston asked, mindlessly stepping around your room as he talked to his lawyer. “I’m afraid this might need more than just a restraining order,”

You sighed when you heard the doorbell, stepping out of your room and finding Tyson playing with Ema, who had been kind enough to help you and Auston during the complicated situation you had been going through. You had kept Tyson away from kindergarten for his safety, what had previously happened with Jessica was enough to scare you to death.

“I’ll take the door,” you whispered to Ema, who was silently looking at her grandson, a worried look on her features.

The doorbell rang again, this time snapping the toddler out of his thoughts. He latched onto your side, a clueless smile planting itself onto his lips as he waited for you to open the door.

It shocked you to see that familiar tattoo so closely, every detail imprinting itself in your memory. Jessica stood in front of you with all her pride, her eyes gingerly falling on your face before flying down to Tyson.

“Look at my baby,” she whispered under her breath, kneeling down to the kid’s height to take a good look at him. Putting all the shock aside, your protectiveness took over, pushing Tyson away from her.

“Don’t even look at him,” you hissed, eyes cold as they found hers.

“Baby, the lawyer is asking-”

Auston stopped in his tracks when he saw who was at the door, quickly stepping towards the two of you to stand by your side. Ema also joined the scene, picking Tyson up and sending the mother of her grandchild a glare before leaving the room.

“Jessica, what do you want?” Auston was quick to ask, his voice filled with venom.

“Auston,” Jessica greeted him, smirking your way. “I want my kid back,”

“After everything you’ve done to us?!” Auston raised his voice. “You left him on my doormat, Jessica. You left us alone with no help and now you come back?! You’ll never be able to see my son again,”

“Our son,” she specified, looking at you as she reminded you who really was the mother of the kid you loved so much, a pang of pain hitting your heart.

“Don’t even try to consider him yours,” you hissed, clenching your jaw. You had had enough. “Tyson doesn’t have a mother because you abandoned him and never came back,”

“You will never be his mother, no matter how hard you try,”

“At least I try to be present in his life, Jessica,” you said, your fists clenched into balls as you stared her down. “At least I show him love, I treat him as my own son. You won’t take him away from us, no matter how hard you try,”

“We’ll see you in court,” Auston said sharply from your side, wrapping his arm around your waist to stabilize you, to support you.

“Oh, is that how things are going to go?” Jessica huffed, rolling her eyes. “Just let me see my kid,”

“You don’t even call him by his name, do you expect us to let you meet him?” you snapped. “We will see you in court, and you should leave the building before I call the police,”

“You won’t forget about me, girl,” she hissed before walking away, leaving you to stare at her back as she left. Your heart was still beating against your ribcage, so fast from all the adrenaline when Auston pulled you back inside your house, wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug.

“Auston, I-” you cried, sniffling against his chest as you finally let yourself relax in his hold. “I’m so scared,”

“She’s never going to take Tyson from us, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise,”

“Mommy?” Tyson’s voice was small, you barely even heard it. “Mommy, don’t cry,”

Even more tears left your eyes at his words, and he was quick to find himself in your arms, hugging you tightly.

“Oh, Tys, I love you so much,” you sobbed, tightening your grip around his smaller body as you enjoyed the moment. “I will always love you, no matter what. Okay, Tys?”

The toddler nodded your way, his eyes soft as he let his face hide in the crook of your neck. Auston joined the two of you, kissing the top of your heads before swaying all of your bodies from side to side.

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered in your ear. “We’ll be alright,”

-----

You hadn’t expected to ever find yourself in court for something as serious as child custody, ever. You were nervous, to say the least. You, Auston, and Tyson were in the hands of one of the best lawyers specialized in child custody; you had been reassured you’d win the case at least twenty times already, but it didn’t help to calm your nerves.

In the short time that had divided your first real encounter with Jessica and the day of the sentence, you had truly started appreciating every single moment you had with Tyson. God only knew what was going to happen in that room.

Auston held your hand during the entire sentence, squeezing your palm every time he’d feel you getting nervous. As the matters were discussed via your respective lawyers, you let your eyes peek in Jessica’s direction.

She was dressed in black, her usual signatures - the bright red lipstick painting her lips, and her neck tattoo - shining under the lights of the room. ‘How could such a beautiful person live without kindness, or love, for her own son?’ You asked yourself. ‘How could she heartlessly leave Tyson and Auston alone, and come back years later to try and snatch him away from the loving hands of his father?’

You spaced out, blocking the sound of people talking, focusing on the ground. In your head, you replayed every single moment you had been able to spend with Tyson, the little boy that had stolen your heart.

You focused on every important moment: the time in the hospital, the lazy Sundays spent with your boys and Felix on the couch, the gala where Tyson first called you ‘mommy’, his first practice.

‘We do not remember days, we remember moments’, was what Cesare Pavese had once said, and finding Tyson and Auston finally made you really understand what he meant, with that quote.

“The sole custody of Tyson James Matthews will be given to the father, Auston Taylour Matthews,” the judge, a middle-aged woman, spoke. “Have a good day,”

It felt as if your heart started beating again, when she spoke those words. Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you looked at Auston, who was equally as happy as you were.

Even if not appropriate, he pulled you in a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the two of you created another moment together. Ema, who had been sitting behind you all that time, joined the two of you with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We did it, baby,” Auston whispered, sniffling slightly as he wiped a fresh set of tears from your cheeks. “We finally did it,”

You spent the afternoon trying to explain the situation to Tyson as best as you could, his curious questions bringing you even more happiness. As much as you wanted to spend the entire night with your boys, Auston was determined to bring you out to dinner.

The entire deal about Tyson’s custody had made both of you extremely busy, you barely even were able to see each other. Mrs. Blake had been more than happy to keep Tyson for the night, and maybe you really needed to spend a night with your lover.

“You look beautiful,” Auston said from behind you, nervously fidgeting as he looked at you putting on your favorite set of earrings.

“And you look nervous,” you giggled, turning around to press a kiss to his lips. “Do I still make you nervous, Matthews?”

“How could you not?” He smirked sweetly down at you, kissing you another time before grabbing your clutch for you. “Let’s go, baby. This is our night,”

You laughed, spinning in his arms before slipping in a pair of heels, ready to leave your condo and get to the restaurant. The look of shock you had given Auston the moment he parked in front of the CN Tower was enough to make him laugh as he helped you out of the car like the gentleman he was.

He spoiled you with a wonderful dinner, talking about everything in front of a glass of wine and the beautiful view of Toronto. Your dessert was brought to you after a while: two nice bowls of ice cream, just what you always used to order when you were kids.

“You know, I was thinking about it,” Auston mumbled, clearing his throat as he pushed the spoon with the last few remnants of ice cream into his mouth. “And we’ve been together for almost a year,”

“Damn, you’re right,” you chuckled in amazement. Time had gone past so quickly you had barely even noticed it.

“This has been the best year of my life,” he admitted, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand, his palm sweaty. “And I wish the next ones could be as perfect as this one year we spent together,”

You smiled at him, biting on your lip as the butterflies in your stomach kept dancing to the music that was his love.

“I know it’s probably too soon, but I just can’t help myself, Y/N,”

A hand cupped your mouth as you finally realized what he actually had meant, and when he let himself sink on one knee, opening a velvet box with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen inside, tears started to spill from your eyes.

“We’ve been through hell and back to be where we are now, and you’ve loved me unconditionally no matter what I did or what I said. You’re the only one I want, you’re the only one I need. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

It was a no-brainer. You didn’t even have to think about your answer, it was clear.

“Yes!”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @trashforbarzal @roopehinttz @callllumhood @sunsetholland

#auston matthews #auston matthews x reader #nhl #nhl x reader #toronto maple leafs #hockey imagine #auston matthews imagine #for you i'd become hercules

194 notes · View notes

cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Laryngitis

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: Minho

Prompt @sicktember

No one's POV.:

Ever since Jisung had woken up that morning, he had been incredibly quiet. To Minho that was truly unsettling, knowing the younger was usually loud and energetic. If he really thought about it, his dongsaeng had already started to act a little off during the previous day but that had been nothing in comparison to how he acted now. The dancer was at a loss. If something was wrong, Jisung would come talk to him, right? Wracking his brain, Minho tried to find a possible explanation for the rapper's behavior. They had spent most of the previous day together and although he had been quiet, Jisung hadn't necessarily seemed down. There also had been no incident that could have sparked the younger's anxiety, at least not that Minho knew of. And yet, the rapper had avoided talking to any of his members and had even gone out of his way to avoid having breakfast. Something wasn't right and Minho was determined to figure out what it was.

Over the course of the previous day, Jisung's throat had started to bother him. At first it was only a light ache and he figured he must have strained it during his vocal practice earlier. The longer the day progressed though, the worse the pain got and by the time evening rolled around, he limited himself to only saying the bare minimum, mostly answering questions by nodding or shaking his head. Talking hurt, as did swallowing but he figured he'd be fine after just resting his voice for a while. He knew he had to stay hydrated and fought to drink a glass of water before going to bed no matter how badly swallowing hurt. The water hadn't helped much, except force him to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. When he woke up in the morning, his throat was at least as sore as before, if not worse. Talking seemed like an impossible task and barely being able to force down a few sips of water, Jisung didn't even dare to think about having breakfast. Still, he thought he had done a remotely good job at playing it off but apparently, he didn't.

Feeling a bit shivery, Jisung used the time while his group ate breakfast to bundle up in a warm, oversized sweater and wrap a big, fluffy scarf around his neck. He could just pretend it completed the outfit besides, it was cold outside anyway. The rapper was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear Minho slipping into his room. "Sung", the older spoke up, chuckling when Jisung startled, "Sorry, didn't want to scare you but I have to talk to you." Jisung nodded his head as an invitation to continue. "You've been acting a bit off and I wanted to see if everything's alright. Didn't think calling you out in front of everyone would be a good idea, so I tried to catch you alone", Minho hummed, sitting down on his dongsaeng's bed. Jisung couldn't help the small smile that played around his lips. He wasn't happy that someone had caught on, yet his hyung was considerate enough to ask him in privacy. Plopping down on his bed next to the dancer, Jisung rasped: "I-I can't really talk, my voice is shot." – "Ohh, that's why you've been so quiet?", Minho concluded, eyes wide with realization. The younger nodded, smiling at his hyung's surprised face. Tapping his chin, the dancer frowned: "That really doesn't sound good though. Want me to talk to Chan-hyung and ask if you can stay home today?" Jisung shook his head. Yeah, he felt a bit cold and tired but aside from his throat hurting, he didn't really feel sick, so there was no reason to miss out on work. "We have dance practice though. I mean it's better than singing for you right now but probably not the best activity for you while sick", Minho reminded, making the younger frown. Maybe he felt a bit more tired than he wanted to let on. Still, that didn't mean he could easily skip. Noticing Jisung's hesitation, the dancer added: "I won't let you go there without eating breakfast. It's going to be challenging and you need the energy." – "Hyung, my throat hurts so bad, I can't even drink water", the rapper forced out, voice barely above a whisper. Looking at the younger in shock, Minho shook his head and insisted: "Sorry but I'm definitely talking to Chan-hyung now. I hadn't realized it was this bad."

Minho had already disappeared before Jisung could argue back. Not that he'd really have enough voice left to do so anyway. Sighing, the rapper pulled out his phone to pass the time till his hyung would come back. When Minho came back, he brought Chan with him, who gave his dongsaeng a long scrutinizing look before asking: "Minho said you weren't feeling well, can you tell me what exactly is bothering me?" Not in the mood to torture himself again, Jisung pointed at his throat, so Minho recounted what the younger had told him. Biting his lip, Chan stepped forward and placed his palm against the rapper's forehead. "Well, you also have a slight fever and considering we're dancing today, I'd rather have you sit out today", the leader frowned. Watching Jisung stiffen and open his mouth to argue, the Aussie added: "Let me rephrase that, you are staying home today. Since I don't trust you to rest, Minho will stay here and keep an eye on you. He has aced the choreography already anyways." Now looking downright offended, Jisung pouted at his hyungs. He wasn't that sick and he really doubted he had a fever. "Come on, am I really that bad?", Minho asked in mock-hurt, clutching one hand to his chest. The rapper could only roll his eyes at that. Great, he'd be stuck with the other for the rest of the day.

When the rest of the group had left for practice, Jisung didn't feel as annoyed by Minho's presence anymore. He was starting to feel run-down. Too run-down to really do much but too awake to take a nap. The rapper figured having some company wasn't so bad after all. Especially when the older got comfortable on the couch with Jisung's head in his lap and let the younger choose which movie they'd be watching. Jisung decided on Howl's moving castle and relaxed, while his hyung's hands carded through his hair. When the movie was over though, Minho insisted that the rapper had to eat something. Jisung couldn't help but cringe at the thought of forcing anything down. Seeing the horror flash across his dongsaeng's face, the dancer sighed and got up, so the younger was left to pout after his hyung who was now bustling in the kitchen. Why couldn't the older just continue playing with his hair? Minho was gone for a few minutes, so Jisung made his way back to his room and collected his fluffy blanket. He had started to feel colder and wanted to be comfy for their second movie of the day.

When Minho joined him, he was only carrying a tea pot and a cup, agreeing: "It's okay if you really don't want food right now but will you drink your tea if I add extra honey?" Giving a small smile, Jisung nodded, glad that his hyung was so understanding. "Can we watch another movie though?", the rapper rasped, grimacing in pain. Shaking his head at his dongsaeng, Minho sat down and let the younger lay on his lap again, warning: "Yeah, we can but don't talk, your throat is getting worse." Jisung was satisfied with that and got comfortable. He started to drift off around halfway in but the dancer never stopped running his fingers through his hair. He even let the younger nap on him when the movie was already over and only shifted him out of his lap when lunchtime came around. Having had an early breakfast, Minho was hungry and decided to eat a bite while his dongsaeng slept. The rapper would have to eat something soon too and this time, Minho wouldn't let him get out of it. He understood that it hurt but if it hurt this badly, it wouldn't be better anytime soon and Jisung couldn't go completely without food until he recovered.

Minho had just finished doing the dishes when he heard shuffling from the couch. Quietly making his way over, he sat down next to his dongsaeng and ran a hand through his hair before feeling his forehead. Surprisingly, the rapper barely had a fever. "Hey, how do you feel after your nap?", he hummed softly, when Jisung sleepily blinked up at him. Sitting up, the younger shook his head before a single tear trailed down his cheek. Brushing it away, Minho frowned: "Is it getting worse?" Jisung nodded, bringing one hand up to massage his throat. "Sung, I don't know but I'm really worried. I think you should see a doctor. You can't eat, you can barely drink, .... This seems serious. Singing is part of your life, so you should be mindful of your voice and take good care of it", the dancer sighed, tired of seeing his friend in so much pain. Rubbing his face, Jisung reached for his cup. The tea had long since gone cold but he wanted to try. If he couldn't drink properly, he'd listen to his hyung's advice. Taking a tentative sip, the rapper almost choked on it and gave a painful cough that brought tears to his eyes. There was no reason to lie anymore, he felt downright awful. Pulling out his phone, he opened a notes app and typed that he'd gladly go see a doctor because he couldn't stand the pain anymore and was starting to feel hungry too. "Do you want me to come with me? I don't mind coming with you but if you're alright by yourself, I'll use the time to make you some soup", Minho offered, "Maybe you'll get something for the pain, so you can eat when you get back." Smiling slightly, Jisung typed that he'd be fine by himself and that he'd hope to be able to eat some of his hyung's soup. The dancer nodded and fixed his dongsaeng's scarf for him, reminding: "Get back safely, yeah?" Nodding, the younger bundled up in a thick coat and left the dorm.

Turning on some soft music as a distraction from the pressing silence at the dorm, Minho busied himself in the kitchen. He had texted his mother for a suitable soup recipe, wanting nothing more than to nurse his dongsaeng back to health. The dancer was a bit worried about sending the younger out by himself and not going with him but tried not to think about it. He just hoped whatever was wrong with the rapper wouldn't be too serious. As the soup simmered, he made his way to the living room to clean up a bit. He'd make some fresh tea and spotting the blanket on the couch, Minho took it to the bathroom and threw it into the wash. Adding in a generous amount of fabric softener, he left the bathroom. He'd throw it into the drier as soon as Jisung would text him that he was on his way home, so that he'd have a nice and warm blanket to curl up under after having to go out in the cold. As he absentmindedly stirred the soup, his phone dinged. Jisung texted him that he was on his way back. He had been diagnosed with laryngitis should avoid straining his voice too much. He had also gotten a prescription for a numbing throat spray, so he'd be able to eat something when he got home and was looking forward to his hyung's cooking. Minho couldn't help a loving smile spreading on his lips and went to throw the blanket into the drier.

When he made his way back to the kitchen, he heard the front door click. Walking over there, he was startled by Jisung throwing himself at him. Minho returned the hug as the younger clung to him and smiled when his dongsaeng lifted his head to look at him. Opening his mouth to say something, the rapper was cut off by Minho reminding: "Ah ah, no talking, remember?" Jisung pouted and pulled out his phone, typing: 'I missed you, hyung!' – "Aww, Sungie. You've barely been gone for what?", Minho chuckled, glancing at the clock, "That wasn't even a full hour." Furiously tapping on his phone, the rapper held it up for his hyung to read: 'That's a lot in sick people time, okay? :(' Tightening his hug, Minho cooed: "I'm sorry, how about you have some soup and then we can continue our movie marathon. I put your blanket into the drier, so it should be nice and warm to cuddle under." Burying his face in the dancer's chest and nodding, Jisung almost teared up. His hyung was so caring and he already looked forward to getting his cuddles. Maybe the older would play with his hair again too. "Alright, let's get you some food first but you'll have to let go of me for that, Sungie", Minho chuckled, trying to pull away. The rapper's hold on him was too strong though, so he wrapped his arm around the younger's shoulders and simply pulled him to the kitchen with him. The faster they could get some food into Jisung, the faster they'd be able to cuddle properly.

#stray kids #skz #sickfic #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #sicktember2021 #minsung #comfort #sick

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puckngrind · 3 years

Text

Leave Her Wild: Chapter 15 - N. MacKinnon

Summary: MacKenzie and Nathan take a vacation for All-Star break.

Warnings: smut, swearing

Word count: 2,750 (short, I know)

Series masterlist / Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Break.

The name Jacob Neidhard was the topic of discussion for more time than Kenzie would've liked but when the manager of the Situation Room in Toronto happens to be her high school sweetheart, the conversation had to happen. Nate was annoyed it wasn't mentioned before but didn't seem to have the rage of possessive anger. Kenzie explained how her and Jake would run around the rink while their dads played on a beer league team together. They were friends since diapers then when high school and hormones hit, the two started dating. He held a lot of firsts for Kenzie and Nate recognized that at least.

"Can you explain how 'dated a hockey player briefly' translated to dated most of high school, all the school dances, and your first... well... took your V card?" Nate's question repeated in Kenzie's ears as they headed off on vacation. He was right. She wrote off how much Jake meant to her especially after her college situation. He went off to play at Notre Dame while she went to Tulane. The two realized their choices in colleges were telling of their relationship. Kenzie's mom wasn't happy about her choice but what was she happy about really? Kenzie's cards had been so tightly help to her chest that even with Nate she didn't know how to approach certain things. Telling him the man that is in charge of the room that makes the calls for all of his games was the same person that she first told she loved and had sex with. Chalking him up to some guy she dated was easier for her to let go of until she saw him. Jake was able to attend the All-Star game events since his job wasn't needed plus having another hometown kid in the arena only helped the league's story. Why Kenzie didn't think he would be there was something else she thought about more times than she should've.

"Kenz, Kenz, look!" Nate pulled her attention towards the plane's window. The Saddledome in view as they were landing in Calgary.

"Cute, Nate." Sarcasm dripping from her answer. "Wait when was their break, before?" the uptick in Kenzie's voice made Nate groan. "Look, you mentioned it and decided our vacation by the flip of a coin. Heads, beach and tails, mountains. I feel like you wanted to make sure it was cold enough to keep me warm as tails never fails is a saying for a reason."

"Trust me, you in a bikini would've have been an issue." Nate whispered.

"I brought it. Hot tub, 'member?" Kenzie winked at Nate as he adjusts his waistband under his lap belt with a breathy curse.

They made their way out of the plane to retrieve their luggage and grab a rental car so Nate could drive into Banff where their cabin was located.

"I still cannot believe you've never been to Banff. We will be able to skate on Lake Louise too." Nate's still shocked voice echoes off the terminal as they waited for their car.

"Didn't pack skates." Her eyes search his.

"I'm sure the cabin has skates in your size. My sister's or cousin's most likely your size." He kissed Kenzie's lips then looks at her smallish feet.

She was excited about the cabin stay in the mountains with Nate but was slightly nervous about meeting his parents. Graham and Kathy had planned on using the family's cabin the first weekend in February but when Nate asked to use it, they bumped their trip up so they could overlap their stay by a day.

Nate scooped Kenzie up so her feet wouldn't get snow on them as he walked up the cabin steps. He carried her over the threshold and Kenzie just stared into his eyes. She wiggled and he slowly let her down. Kenzie noticed that he started the fireplace when he walked in first with their bags. Walking over to it she rubbed her hands together and placed her palms out. She looked around.

"So they rent this out through the season?" Kenzie asks when Nate's arms wrap around her.

"Yup. Family gets the to schedule certain weeks and then can fill in." Nate nips at her ear.

"So you reserved this week?" Kenzie leans to look up at him.

"Well, Mom and Dad are sharing it with us but yeah. I pulled some strings. The fam wants me to keep ya." Nate spins Kenzie around his lips ghost hers.

"And this is gonna keep me?" Kenzie whispered into his lips.

"You haven't skated on Lake Louise yet, Baby. It's somethin' else." Nate's lips finally crash into hers. His hands snake down her back and firmly under her ass to press her body into his. She leans back from their embrace.

"Am I gonna get a tour?" She bit her lip as Nate huffs out a response. "No?" She pulls at her rouge curl.

"Yeah. So, this is the living space. That's the kitchen. The hot tub is that way... and well..." Nate lifts Kenzie up over his shoulder with a squeal.

"Nathan!" She squealed again as his hand lands firmly on her ass.

"So, fireplace, counter, hot tub, shower, or bed?" He almost growled.

"For..." Kenzie tries to over power him.

"Well those are all the places we are fucking this week, which is first?" The demanding sound of his voice made Kenzie squeeze her thighs tight together. He starts carrying her down the hallway.

"Nice decor." She drums on his ass as his bicep squeezes tighter around her. "Don't mind this view."

"Your commentary is gonna make me just take you right here." Nate's voice was low.

"Hmmmm..." Kenzie feels her feet hit the door of their room then is tossed on the bed. Nate body on top of her before she even could situate herself. "You know, I've never had Canadian beef IN Canada. This will be new. Eh?" She laughs as Nate's lips and hand attach to her. Kenzie moans.

"You want Canadian beef, huh?" Nate pushes himself up to remove his shirt and sweats. Kenzie licks her lips when she sees the pre-cum soaking his briefs. Her head nods as Nate removes her sweater over her head. He lays her back down to shimmy off her leggings and panties. Nate's fingers glide through her folds not stopping eye contact with each other. Kenzie moans loudly as Nate's fingers curl into her. "That's my girl!" He praised her as Kenzie pressed herself onto his digits. Nathan slid off the bed quickly to remove his briefs. Kenzie rolled on her side watching every move he made.

"Your muscles look different." She commented as he crawled next to her. His lips attached to hers.

"Same muscles. Different lighting." He reached over to pull the chain on the lamp. The night's sky only thing lighting the room. He moves over her left leg as Kenzie wraps her right around his waist. "Yeah, like that." Nate shifts to slide into Kenzie's core moving his top half to kiss her lips as he slip his length in and out.

"Fuck." Kenzie feels her second orgasm building. Their tangled bodies moving together in a pace she knew was going to leave her breathless. "Nate!" Kenzie reaches her high again. Nate muffling her moans with kisses while pressing hard into her. Kenzie looks up at him. Nate's sweat noticeable even in the dark.

"Felt good, huh?" Nate grunts out. Kenzie squeezed tight around him with a nod. He continues kissing her while he slides in and out.

"Let it go, Nate. I want to feel how much you love me." Kenzie's request caused Nate to snap hard into her and release.

"Fuck." He moaned out as he stayed there staring at her. "How do you have so much power over me?" He moves so they are laying down facing each other.

"I do?" Kenzie questions. Her hand hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"How do you not realize this by now?" He kisses her. "You have so much power over me. I was trying to get you to come again but you went and said all those things and damnit if I couldn't hold it back anymore." Nate closes his eyes. "Maybe you don't realize." "I think it's equal, Nate. We fit together well. You balance me more than anyone and don't try to change me. You don't know how much I appreciate that." Kenzie goes to move.

"Where are you going?" Nate's hand catches her.

"I need to clean up as I feel my leg is very, very wet." Kenzie laughs and Nate follows her into the bath.

Their trip was an adventure with some down time thrown in to it too. They took a dog sled trip through Banff National Park. The dogs were some of the cutest and strongest that Kenzie had ever seen. The skating on Lake Louise was something out of a movie. Watching Nathan gracefully glide across the ice with ease made her heart explode. The video she took to send her dad was the best. She had skated outside before but never thought she would be skating in the most breathtaking area ever. In all of her travels, this was up there as her favorite experience to date. She sat on a snow bank watching Nate skate back to her wondering if it was the place or him. Maybe both.

The perfect trip for both of them. Nate dipped right into Kenzie's wanderlust and she made him feel like he did when he was younger when skating and maintaining his body wasn't just his job. The week was relaxing with a focus on them and only their relationship. Both allowing themselves to step away from work and be in the moment. By the day before his parents were to arrive, Nathan had fulfilled every check list item except the kitchen counter. Kenzie was sitting on the counter in nothing but his shirt watching him mix protein pancakes. It was well past noon but the two needed to eat. She swiped some batter as he went to protest she dapped it on his nose.

"You better get this off." He smirked at her, sliding over so he was directly in front of her. She kissed his nose then licked off the batter.

"There. Now, could I say the same about me?" She moves her legs widely apart. Nate's eyes go to her exposed core then to her needy eyes.

"Oh checklist almost complete. Check. Check." He presses his hips between her legs pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. His lips on hers with his tongue asking permission to enter. Kenzie's lips part. Her hands find his hair bringing his naked chest to her body. Moaning in his mouth, Nate starts to move his sweats when he hears something. He looks over and jumps back. "Fuck." He wipes his face and tries to go back to whisking the batter.

"Hello! Hope we aren't interrupting. We tried to call but you didn't answer." Graham MacKinnon's voice echoes from the entry way.

"I'm practically naked!" Kenzie whisper yells at Nate.

"You are fine." Nate kisses her cheek as he seems to be attempting to calm himself down before turning fully towards the door. "Hey Dad! We are just making brunch. You are a day early you know!" Nate moves to go greet his dad motioning for Kenzie to head to the bedroom. She reappeared quickly to see Nate had retrieved a forgotten shirt from the couch and was sitting on the oversized love seat across from his parents. She took a deep breath before stepping in sight.

"There she is!" Kathy stood to close the space between her and Kenzie. Wrapping her in a hug that felt familiar in a way. Graham was right behind her to hug Kenzie too. She awkwardly looks around deciding on a seat before Nate pulls her back to sit practically on him. They talked for awhile. The things they already knew about her shocked Kenzie but also didn't. She felt Nate's arm so relaxed behind her as the spoke. His relaxed demeanor with his parents was a good feeling. One that she hardly had with her own parents when she spoke to the two of them together.

"Oh, you two were making brunch, weren't you? You must be hungry. since we've been gabbing here for over an hour." Graham breaks the conversation.

"Starving." Kenzie and Nate say in unison with a laugh.

"How about we head to that place down the road?" Kathy questions. They agree. Nathan and MacKenzie retreat to their room to change.

"Hey, that went well." Nate wrapped Kenzie up in a hug as he shuts the door.

"Yeah, thankfully they didn't see your face between my legs." Kenzie places her hand over her eyes.

"I'm sure Dad wouldn't have said a word if so. We will have to finish that later." Nate's lips find hers.

"With your parents here? These walls are super thin!" Kenzie whispers as she starts to change.

"So you will have be be quiet. YOUR parents didn't hear us, now did they?" Nate's smirk could even been seen through his sweater as he pulled it over his head.

"I love you but damn if you don't have a death wish MacKinnon." Kenzie shakes her head.

"If that's what you wanna call it? Sure. Now let's go eat so I can come back to eat sooner." He smacks her ass. "Oh, and I love you too Kenz." Nate pulls her into his side and she knows lunch is going to be interesting.

The MacKinnon family and MacKenzie found themselves almost alone at the cafe in late January. The place was usually packed according to Kathy. Graham even questioned the owner who Nate and Kenzie both thought could be Gus's cousin in both looks and mannerisms. She convinced Nate to take a picture together to tag the restaurant after they left which he agreed. On the way back she explained to the car that if it was on his socials, even if he barely uses them, that maybe business would pick up for the cute diner. His parents were fascinated by her job and Kathy even questioned why his Instagram page still looked like a ghost town of Sid and Nate content. That comment made Kenzie laugh hysterically and realize that Kathy was on to something.

The ease of which Kenzie fit into the conversation with Nate and his parents was a relief. For some reason she worried that their knowledge of her slightly workaholic self with his schedule would have them questioning their relationship. The opposite was true. Both appreciated Kenzie's work ethic and drive. Graham even mentioning that Nathan's was similar just a different profession so not so easy to compare. Nate's simple touches of reassurance throughout the day were noticed too. She made a mental note to thank you when they were alone.

"So your dad runs the rink but what does your mother do?" Kathy questioned Kenzie over dinner.

"Oh, welll..." Kenzie laughed then looked at her watch buzzing.

"Do you need to take that?" Nate questioned and she shook her head to excuse herself. Kenzie found her phone near the fireplace and answered it speaking quietly into her phone.

"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. I can be there on Monday morning if that works?" Kenzie paced across the roaring fireplace. "You are correct in that statement, yes." She stops and watched as the flames flicker wildly. "I will see you then. Yes, same to you. Goodbye." Kenzie turned around to see all three MacKinnon faces staring at her.

"Kenz?" Nate stood up to walk towards her. "Was that a work thing?" Kenzie fought the tears pricking at her edges of her eyes. She shook her head yes. "Why does it look like you are about to lose it? Like you are gonna break?" Nate's hands steadied her. She looked up at his loving but concerned face.

"Because I am." She breathed out. "I am."

#leave her wild fic #nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon #nate the great 29 #n mackinnon fic #setting: 2019 2020 season #all star break 2020

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