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mymoonagedaydream · 1 year ago

Text

Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Part 1 / Part 2

—

The sky was darkening by the time the two of you reached your apartment, streetlamps illuminating one by one and melding with the warm glowing light that spilled from the windows above you. Bucky released the arm that had been firmly anchored around you and took a step back while you rooted around in your bag. He obviously figured that, after the absolute shitshow the last twenty-four hours had been, there was a pretty good chance he wasn’t going to be invited in. You pulled out your keys, letting him sweat right up until the last second.

Before you could unlock the door, however, it swung open to reveal Lily, jarringly backlit by pale, fluorescent bulbs. She looked disappointed.

“Oh, my dear, you’ve just missed them.”

“Who?” You glanced back at Bucky and gave him a reassuring smile, knowing this interaction was bound to put him on edge. “Have your family been visiting?”

“No, your friends. They only left a few minutes ago.”

“My friends?”

“Yes, the young men with the birthday cards for you. Very sweet. I sent them upstairs but my word they were noisy, they must have had some trouble working out how to use the letterbox.”

Well, now you were on edge too, partly because your birthday wasn’t for another three months and partly because you didn’t have a letterbox.

Before you had the chance to respond, Bucky charged through the gap between you and sprinted up the stairs, swiftly disappearing out of view. You asked Lily to lock the door before racing after him, pausing halfway up the stairs when it hit you that entrusting security detail to her might not have been the best idea. You weren’t even sure if she could remember who did and didn’t live here anymore.

After inwardly deliberating for a second, you shrugged and carried on, deciding that you’d actually quite like to see someone try messing with you while Bucky was nearby and this irate. Might even cheer you up a little.

You were out of breath by the time you reached the top of the stairs, but the sight you were met with somehow still managed to pull the last dregs of air from your lungs.

Your door was hanging off its hinges. There were splinters of wood littering the hallway and holes of varying sizes punched into the drywall. A vague path of cigarette burns in the carpet led from where you were standing to the spot where your doormat should have been.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, you slowly approached, tears welling in your eyes as they scanned over the inside of your apartment. It was worse than you could have imagined. The couch had been torn to pieces, the TV screen was smashed, the curtains had been ripped from the wall and strewn over the floor. You dreaded to think how the rest of the place looked and you weren’t sure you had the emotional capacity to find out right now.

Thundering footsteps approached from inside and Bucky stormed into view, his voice more deep and stern than usual as he addressed you.

“They’re gone. I can’t see anything missing but you should check around too.”

“Buck-”

“Fuckin’ cowards, man,” he kicked a nearby couch cushion and stuffing exploded out of it, “couldn’t even stick around to face us.”

“Buck, please.”

A warm tear spilled onto your cheek. He seemed to soften when he spotted it, quickly moving over and pulling you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in the shoulder of his suit jacket, letting a few more drops soak into the rough material, choking back hiccuped breaths. His hand smoothed down the hair on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry, baby. Take as long as you need.”

You turned your head to the side so your voice wasn’t muffled. “Is it bad?”

“It’s fixable.”

“Are you lying to make me feel better?”

“A little,” he took hold of your hands and gently prized them away from his chest, squeezing them firmly as he moved into your eyeline, “but we’ll do it together, okay? S’gonna be alright. C’mon.”

With a deep breath, you finally stepped into your devastated apartment and looked around. Some things were fixable. Most things weren’t. Slowly, tenderly, Bucky led you from room to room and helped you find all your valuables. Your laptop was still in your bedside drawer, camera still on your desk, even the emergency twenty dollar bill you kept in the key bowl by the front door was still there. It was bizarre, but you were actually starting to feel a little relieved- that was, until you walked through to the kitchen.

You spotted it immediately. Your grandmother’s necklace, the one that had hung from the corner of her picture on the wall ever since you’d moved in, was gone. You were in disbelief. It wasn’t even valuable, it was just a brass locket with a photograph of your grandfather inside, why the fuck would anyone take that?

You spun round and pointed it out to Bucky. If you’d been in a less disoriented state of mind, you might have noticed how his face dropped into something resembling dread, how his jaw suddenly clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, but you were far too busy spiralling.

“Christ, I haven’t even called the cops. I don’t even know what crime this is. Destruction of property? Vandalism? Shit burglary?” Your shaking hands pulled your cellphone from your pocket. “Who the fuck would even do this? You think it could be that guy that was following me before?”

“No.”

“It makes sense, I mean he must have been working for someone, maybe they-” Your train of thought came to an abrupt stop as you realised what he’d said. “What d’you mean, no? Buck, do you know something about this?”

“No, I swear. It’s just- something my brother said earlier. It’s been bothering me. ”

“What did he say?”

“I might be overthinking it.”

“Buck. Tell me.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Most of the conversation was fine, really, I just told him about how much of an ass I’d been and how guilty I felt and he nodded along. But after we’d spoken, just before he left the room, he said, doesn't she know it’s a dangerous city for a girl all on her own?”

You felt the blood turn cold in your veins.

Bucky’s brother had only ever been to your apartment once, a long time ago, when he dropped off your invitation to his wedding. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you vividly recalled him sipping coffee from your favourite mug and asking about the picture of your grandmother hung up in the kitchen. He listened intently while you reeled off all the reasons you idolised her, even putting a comforting hand on your shoulder when you told him how much you missed her. A pinprick of white hot rage started in your stomach, slowly expanding and filling your whole chest.

“That motherfucker.”

“I can’t believe he’d do something like this,” Bucky looked genuinely shellshocked, “I thought I could trust him. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Jesus, would you stop fucking apologising?"

The air between you stilled. It seemed like neither of you had been expecting such an abrupt snap, but you knew he needed to hear this, so you swallowed back your hesitation and continued.

"You know who they are. You know what they do. How the hell is this a shock?”

“They also know how I feel about you. This isn’t how we treat family.”

“Oh, come on.” You were doing your best not to scream at him. “How many fucking times have we been told that I’ll never be accepted as part of your family? Well, now we’ve been shown, too. I don't feel like waiting around to find out what's next.”

“Nothing’s next, cause I’m gonna sort it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re gonna stand up to them?”

“Of course I am.”

“Whatever.”

You walked out of the kitchen, quickly wiping away your frustrated tears before he saw them. You needed to busy yourself or you’d end up doing a Bucky and punching the fucking wall. Dodging shattered pieces of table and couch, you made your way over to the TV and crouched down, starting to gather shards of smashed screen from the floor. He appeared after just a few seconds. His face was flushed and every visible muscle was tensed, a few beads of sweat starting to form just below his hairline.

“I’m gonna make this right, I just need to think.”

“The fuck is there to think about?”

“Well, y’know, I need to, to figure out- Fuck.”

He let his arms go limp at his sides, looking utterly defeated. Noticing what you were doing, he picked up a blanket from the floor and shuffled over, crouching beside you and emptying the sharp pieces from your hand into the soft material. You didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know what to do. My head feels like it’s falling apart. I’ve got a helluva lot of shit to sort out, I know that, but for now all I care about is that you’re not safe here.”

“No shit. What gave it away, the lack of a front door or the visits from your insane family?”

He placed the blanket down. “Look, I know you hate me right now, and you have every reason to, but I need you to stay at my apartment tonight.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t have to talk to me or even look at me, just let me make sure you’re somewhere safe.”

You spent a minute thinking about it whilst picking tiny splinters of glass out of your palm, but eventually gave a reluctant agreement. What the fuck else were you gonna do? You couldn’t stay here with no door and an increasingly unhinged downstairs neighbour, and you sure as hell couldn’t afford a hotel room for any significant length of time. Besides, even with him there, Bucky’s apartment would probably be the only place you’d feel secure enough to actually sleep.

He called a cab while you packed, collecting all your remaining valuables and yanking your clothes out of the wood pile that used to be a rickety chest of drawers. Both of you stayed quiet during the journey. The city rolling past the window became gradually less and less dilapidated, crumbling apartment blocks replaced by upscale residences and gleaming metal infrastructure, a whole different world than the one you were used to. Bucky’s world.

You hadn’t been to his apartment for a while, but it was still just as ridiculously opulent as you remembered. You dropped your bag on the floor and glanced around. Between working and seeing you, he never really spent any time here, so obviously never felt the need to properly decorate. It was sterile, like an overpriced showhome.

He set you up on the squeaky, white leather couch, flicking on the TV and wrapping you in a blanket before ordering takeout. You listened to him rushing around out of view, marching between the bedroom and the bathroom, running water and spraying cleaning products. You let slip an exhausted chuckle at the cacophony of panicked noises.

One thing you didn’t hear, however, was him picking up the photograph of him and his brother that he kept propped up on the bedroom mantelpiece. You didn’t hear him fold it in half and you didn’t hear the heavy breath that escaped from his lips as he tore it into two clean pieces.

He eventually reappeared and collapsed into the armchair to your left. The TV was blaring but he somehow managed to ignore it, instead staring at the wall all night, deep in thought and slowly tapping his fingers against the leather upholstery.

He was definitely planning something, you just hoped to god it was something rational.

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Story taglist: @mdpplgtz03

Permanent Taglist: @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @sjsmith56 @supraveng @thewackywriter @coffeebooksandfandom @littlemiss-yeehaw@buckystevelove @happinessinthebeing @steeph-aniie @nialiuwanderlust@froggyloora @nervousstrangersandwich @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @pono-pura-vida @crzyplantladyvibes @vickie5446 @cremebruleequeen @wthisbucky @marvel-wifey-86 @alesabisou @blueraspberryreader @casa-boiardi

Untaggables are italicised, will be removing after a few attempts so let me know if spelling is wrong.

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faofinn · 1 year ago

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BTHB - Overdose

"Harrison!" Taidgh shouted, hammering on the door. "Hars! You in there?"

There wasn't much more that he could do, his spare key was, of course, somewhere in Harrison’s flat, and Fao was fifteen minutes away. He wasn’t even sure Harrison was there, he'd not replied to any of Taidgh's messages for over eighteen hours. It had been normal enough, Hars had been on nights and had gone to grab something from his flat and then said he was too tired to drive, and he was just going to sleep. He sounded tired on the phone, drifting off as they talked. When he didn't get a good morning message, he only grew more and more concerned.

When there was no answer at the door, he called Fao. He knew the other man had a spare key, and probably always would. He kept hammering as he waited, knocking on the glass and shouting through the letterbox, doing anything to get Harrison's attention. He wasn't sure he was even there, maybe he had missed a shift, or there was something he'd had to do. Calling the cops and fire department were on his list, growing more of an option the longer Fao took.

Fao came as soon as he could, clutching Harrison's key. He met Taidgh with a stressed smile.

“I'm here, I'm sorry it took so long. Managed to get anything out of him?”

He shook his head. "Nothing. I heard his phone ring."

Fao nodded. “Mm, okay.” He mumbled, digging the key out. “He better bloody be okay.”

"He didn't say anything, he just went to get clothes or something, I don't know, but he was late off and said he was too tired to drive. He kept falling asleep on the phone so I said for him to just sleep there instead of having to drive."

“Mm. It was a bad day yesterday.” Fao said softly, pushing the door open. “Hars? Tomcat?” He called.

Tai pushed past him, desperate. "Harrison? Where are you? You here?”

Fao followed him through, worry curling in his stomach. “Harrison!”

Taidgh pushed the bedroom door open, his heart dropping as he found his boyfriend sprawled on his stomach on the bed. He rushed to his side, kneeling on the bed. He could hear Harrison breathing, thankfully, and cupped his face with his hand.

"Harrison, look at me. Open your eyes, love."

He tilted his head, reaching to squeeze his shoulder with his other hand. Harrison was cold to the touch and his hair damp with sweat. He clutched an empty bottle of jack in his other hand, fingers loosely wrapped around it. Empty cans and bottles littered the other side of the bed, obviously an attempt to throw them into the bin there. Taidgh's eyes flicked around the room, seeing if there was anything else. He'd not seen Harrison take his morphine in a while, but he had a bottle open on the side. His mind immediately going back to the first night he'd been worried about him, turning up on his doorstep with a bottle of vodka. There was no doubt he'd have taken both of them then, and he bet he'd taken it again.

It had barely been seconds, and Taidgh twisted to turn to Fao, who was now beside him. "Call an ambulance. Now."

Fao didn't need telling twice, quickly dialling. “What's his breathing like?”

"It's all over the place."

Fao pushed through his own fear to kneel next to Harrison. His hands quickly skimmed over him, checking him over. This wasn't good.

Taidgh searched Fao’s face, brow pulling into a frown. It wasn't like Fao to be worried like that.

Fao quickly spoke to the call handler, giving over details. They assured him an ambulance was on its way, and he looked at Tai. “They'll take him in, grab a bag or something? Just a few bits he'll need?”

He looked up from watching Harrison, his hand pausing on his shoulder. "I'm not leaving him."

He nodded, somewhat surprised. “Alright. You stay with him.”

Taidgh nodded, returning to watch Harrison, one hand rubbing his shoulder and the other running through his hair. He murmured softly to him, quietly begging him to be okay.

It was sweet, watching Tai with Harrison. Fao could tell he really genuinely cared, and he'd not been put off by the absolute state that was Harrison's flat.

“The ambulance won't be long.”

"It's been long enough already." He said tensely.

“I know. God knows how long he's been like this.”

Taidgh didn't need to hear that. He was already beating himself up for not joining Harrison at his overnight, already blaming himself for Harrison's state. He froze as Harrison stiffened under his hands, panic rising.

"Harrison? You're okay. You're alright." He said softly, hoping he could hear him.

Instead, Harrison coughed and retched, Tai quickly pushing him further onto his side as he vomited. "You're okay. I've got you. Get it out, eh? Might make you feel better."

Fao helped to hold Harrison on his side, rubbing his back. But he was quiet, just humming softly to him.

Tai looked at Fao. "Why is this happening?"

“It'll be the alcohol with the morphine, probably. It's a bad week for him.” For Fao, too. But Tai didn't need to know that.

"He didn't say. He was fine. He was happy." Taidgh said.

“He is happy. That's why he didn't say.”

"This isn't happy." Taidgh’s voice wavered, close to tears.

“Hey, Taidgh. He loves you. He doesn't want you to hurt like he does, he's always thought hiding was the answer.”

"If he loved me he wouldn't do this."

“No, no.”

He wiped Harrison’s cheek with the edge of the duvet. "I guess we're over."

Fao frowned. “Why? If he needs you at any time, it's now.”

"Oh, no, no. I'm not going anywhere. I just assumed… all this. ..I guess he's had enough of me."

“That's not it at all.” Fao sighed. “It's just a bad time of year. Sometimes when he loses control, this is what happens. It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault.” Realistically, it was Fao's fault.

"I can't just do this. I can't just sit back and let him hurt like this."

“I know. It's shit. Just give him time, we'll get him sorted and then he'll have you. You're good for him.”

"Apparently so." He scoffed.

“You really are.”

"And this is how we've ended up."

“It's not as simple as that.”

"It never is."

“This isn't your fault.”

"It has to be." He said softly, and then sighed. "I should have done more."

“No, it's not your fault. Not at all.”

"It has to be."

“Hars would be first to tell you it's not your fault.”

"It has to be." He turned to Fao with tears in his eyes.

Fao shook his head. ��No.” He wanted to say more, but the ambulance had arrived, and he rushed to open the door and let them in.

When Fao returned with the crew, Taidgh was fully curled over Harrison, rocking the other man gently as he promised things would get sorted. He pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before jerking back at the sight of them.

“It's okay, Taidgh.” Fao said gently. “They'll help.”

"Can you tell us what's happened?"

“Uh, yeah. This is Harrison, he's [age], has a history of alcohol dependency. He finished his shift nearly 24 hours ago now, and hadn’t been heard from since. Concerned, we’ve turned up to see if he’s okay and found him like this. Obvious signs of drinking, not sure how long he’s been like this for. Also looks like he might have taken oramorph too - he has a history of chronic pain following a right below knee amputation. His breathing is erratic, he’s vomited and has been pretty unresponsive since we arrived.”

"Alright, thank you. Do you know how much he might have had today? And how much oramorph he's had?" One of them asked, the other moving to check Harrison over.

Taidgh's jaw clenched as he gripped onto Harrison’s shirt. "It's not his fault. He's not had any in forever. He said he was fine."

“I reckon he’s probably had most of that bottle today. And if he was drunk, he probably didn’t do too well dosing the oramorph. He’d have tried, though. Hard to say, really. Think he takes about 20mg? But not sure how many doses he'll have had since yesterday.”

"He's not been taking the morphine recently. Last time he took it with me, it knocked him out."

"Alright, we'll give him a little bit of nalaxone, which will reverse the morphine. We'll run some fluids as his bp is on the low side. We'll give him some oxygen and some glucose too, just to help him out. We want to get going pretty quickly, get him to hospital where they can do more for him."

Fao nodded. “He can be quite combative if he's smothered, especially when he's got opiates in his system. So go slow, hands off as much as you can.” He went to say more, and then stopped himself. “Uh, Taidgh, you can go with him. I'll stay here, tidy all this up.”

Taidgh hadn't thought he could feel any smaller, but as Fao spoke with such familiarity, it was hard not to. He hadn't known half of what Fao had told the paramedics, and he felt utterly out of place.

"No, it's okay. You're better off with him."

“You're his boyfriend. I don't want to get in your way, it's not fair.”

He sighed. "You're not. You go with him."

“He'll want you when he comes round a bit.”

"I don't know anything about him. I don’t know him." Tai said flatly.

“Will you come up if I go with him? He'll want to see you.”

"Sure."

“You can call me when you arrive and I'll meet you?”

Tai ignored him, turning to the paramedic. "What are you doing now?"

“Just getting everything set up for him.”

"He shouldn't be in this situation."

The paramedic hummed sympathetically. “We're doing our best to help him out now.”

"Be careful with him."

"We'll look after him." They said reassuringly. "We're just going to give him some medication to reverse the oramorph. It can make him a little aggravated, or a little sick, so we'll keep an eye on him. The oxygen is just helping him breathe a bit better, too."

Fao squeezed Tai's shoulder. “It's okay.”

"None of this is okay." He snapped softly.

“I know, I know. But they're taking good care of him.”

Harrison retched again, and Taidgh panicked. "You're okay. You're okay, I'm right here."

"He's just had the nalaxone, so he might be sick." The paramedic warned. "Just keep an eye on him."

Fao turned away to pack a bag, conscious they’d need it. Taidgh wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure. Hars needed him.

Taidgh's fingers were soft in Harrison’s hair, trying to soothe him back asleep, while he silently begged him to wake up. Harrison raised an uncoordinated arm to bat at the cuff on his arm, letting out a quiet groan.

"Hey, you’re okay." Taidgh murmured. "I'm right here, you're okay."

Harrison barely cracked an eyelid open. "Marcus?" He slurred.

Taidgh's heart sank. "It's Taidgh, Harrison. Fao's here too. And the paramedics."

“You're alright, Hars.”

"We're just going to grab our bed and bring that in, and then we'll head off to hospital, okay?"

“Yeah. We've got him.”

"Do you have a bag for him?" One asked as the other headed out. "And was one of you coming with us?"

“Yeah, there's a bag here. And uh, Taidgh? Are you going with him?”

Taidgh looked at Fao. "You are."

“Will you drive up?” He asked gently.

"Which hospital is he going to?"

“We're going to take him to George's, as it's closest.”

"Alright, okay. I'll see you guys later, I guess."

“I’ll call you as soon as we get there, okay? And you can come straight in.”

"Sure, yeah." He stared at the floor as Harrison got strapped to the bed. "I'll lock up. My key's around here somewhere."

Fao dug around in his pockets. “Take mine, just in case you can’t find yours.”

"Thanks."

“Call me, yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah. See you later."

“I’ll be with him.”

"Least he'll have someone who knows him."

“He’ll want you too.”

"Yeah, apparently."

“Trust me.”

"It looks like he does." Taidgh shot Fao a look, setting his jaw. It was easier if he pretended he didn't care, that none of this hurt so bad. He was fine, Hars didn't need him, he didn't need Harrison.

Fao didn’t have the time to take Taidgh aside and explain quite why Harrison was having a hard time. He had to go with Hars, make sure he got to hospital okay and that he was properly looked after. He felt bad for Tai, knew it was hard when he knew so much about Harrison whilst Tai was so new to it all. It would take time, that was all. Fao had known Hars for decades, it just came naturally.

In the back of the ambulance he gripped Harrison's hand and murmured to him, trying to soothe him the best he could. It wasn’t much, but it was all Fao could do.

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games-und-lyrik · 1 year ago

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The Meaning of Christmas

The Meaning of Christmas is another Christmas poem. The Meaning of Christmas In the dark house, someone hides,Becomes small, even smaller,Than he actually is,Because outside the door, he is missed. In the darkness, there's rumbling and hammering loud,So that it frightens the concealed one in the crowd. In the fireplace, there crackles and sparks,All the soot in the room embarks. In the kitchen, the windows are clattering,Under vigorous blows, they're shattering,Until the glass is gone, we must insist,And the windowpane is greatly missed. In the bathroom, the water gurgles,The floor there constantly troubles. They crawl out from there,Towards the living area, oh despair. He trembles, eyes filled with dread,From everything that fills him with dread. His heart becomes heavy, oh dear,No one can save him here. It drips, it shuffles, they're in the house,The door is closed, he can't get out. It's too late to flee!They're already grabbing him, you see!Dragging him away, he screams aloud, poor man,Then someone switches on the light switch, as planned. "Dear good Santa Claus,It's you, without a doubt,Who once thought of,The Christmas celebration for family and clout! Grandmother squeezed through the chimney with grace,Because she knew you would try to escape the chase!Your aunt came through the pipes in the bath,She's soaking wet, I do the math!By the way, your bathroom is now underwater,But that's not all, it's going to get hotter! Your father, he didn't come through the door,So he smashed the kitchen window for sure,And, I must say, it's hard to contain,I had to become lightning through your power meter's chain!Your uncle came through the letterbox, it's clear!Now, he's millimeters near! Besides, we knew you were here!That was crystal clear.Your sleigh is parked outside the door,As long as it's there, you're not out anymore. The meaning of Christmas! You once said,Is contemplation and peace, you pled,As well as family togetherness so fine,And I see you fleeing, I hear you whine,Because this year, we've come to visit,Should I put a curse on you, admit it?Then, on your ride as a rider so slick,You'll have a thundercloud as a companion, quick." Santa Claus, he gave in with grace,That after the Christmas journey's race,He received his family in the house's embrace,Was an unfamiliar and joyous space. But it turned out, though the road was long,For everyone, it was a time that belonged. The Meaning of Christmas in the Mirror of the Gaming World Christmas is a time when many people reflect on the meaning of Christmas: peace, love, and the sharing of joy. These principles can also be found in the world of video games, offering intriguing parallels. The Meaning of Christmas: A Journey through the Gaming Landscape As December approaches, and the world is bathed in a festive glow, many contemplate the meaning of Christmas. It's about more than glittering decorations and lavish gifts; at its core are values like compassion, unity, and sharing moments of joy. These universal themes of the Christmas season find an interesting expression in the gaming world. Reflective Moments in Virtual Worlds The meaning of Christmas can be found in the tranquility and reflection that characterize this time. Games like "Celeste" or "Ori and the Blind Forest" not only offer challenging gameplay elements but also tell stories that emotionally touch and provoke thought in players. They reflect the meaning of Christmas through their narration, addressing themes such as personal growth, friendship, and overcoming obstacles – all aspects central to the contemplative Christmas season. Christmas Events in the Gaming Community The online gaming community often uses the meaning of Christmas as an opportunity to create a sense of community and festivity through special events and updates. Games like "Overwatch" or "Destiny 2" host annual Christmas events that bring players together worldwide. These events are characterized by the spirit of sharing and community, as players collaborate on special tasks and receive rewards they can share with each other. Gift-Giving Culture in Games The tradition of gift-giving is a central part of the meaning of Christmas. In gaming, this tradition continues through the gifting of in-game items or game codes to friends and online acquaintances. Through these gestures, the meaning of Christmas is connected to a modern practice that still touches the heart of the Christmas spirit: it's about bringing joy to others and, in turn, experiencing joy oneself. Storytelling and Immersion in Another World Video games often offer an escape from reality and allow players to immerse themselves in stories that can carry a Christmas message. Titles like "The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim" with its snowy landscapes and warm fires in the inns or "Animal Crossing: New Horizons" with its seasonal festivities reflect the meaning of Christmas in their game worlds. They provide players with a sanctuary where the ideals of peace, tranquility, and warmth come to life. Reflection and Tranquility In the quiet season of the year, many seek the meaning of Christmas in tranquility and contemplation. Games that offer a profound story, such as "Firewatch" or "Journey," provide similar moments of peace and self-reflection. They offer space to experience the meaning of Christmas – pausing and reflecting on our lives – in the interactive form of the gaming medium. Reflection and Tranquility: The Contemplative Aspects of Gaming In a world that seems to be getting faster and louder, people are looking for opportunities for reflection and tranquility. Everyday life often leaves little time for these important moments of introspection. Interestingly, the gaming landscape provides an unexpected refuge to experience these moments and take a break from the hustle and bustle of life. Video Games as a Medium for Self-Reflection Reflection is a central part of human consciousness, and video games offer a unique platform for it. Titles like "The Stanley Parable" or "What Remains of Edith Finch" are examples of how games can stimulate self-reflection. They challenge players to think about their decisions, their own lives, and the consequences of their actions. By immersing players in stories that raise profound questions, video games become a tool for reflection. The Role of Tranquility in the Gaming Experience Tranquility is a state often sought as a counterpoint to the stressful everyday life. Games like "Abzû" and "Flower" invite players to immerse themselves in a calm, meditative experience. These games feature relaxed gameplay mechanics that focus less on fast reflexes and more on experiencing a peaceful environment. They simulate a space of tranquility, allowing the player to explore the virtual world at their own pace and find relaxation along the way. Gaming as a Virtual Retreat In a time when the boundaries between work and personal life blur, gaming can provide a private retreat. Building simulation games like "Stardew Valley" or "Minecraft" allow players to immerse themselves in a different reality where they set the pace. Such games can become a place of tranquility and personal reflection, where time doesn't matter, and the stresses of daily life fade into the background. Deceleration Through Gaming Deceleration is a counterconcept to our fast-paced society and can also be found in the world of video games. Slow gaming titles like "Dear Esther" intentionally slow down the pace and allow players to absorb the environment and the story. They provide an antidote to constant information and sensory overload, offering a digital form of deceleration. Community Experiences in the Digital Realm The meaning of Christmas is revealed in the sense of community and togetherness. In the digital world, cooperative games like "Stardew Valley" or "Animal Crossing" foster a sense of togetherness that closely aligns with the Christmas spirit of unity and communal experiences. They create virtual meeting spaces where people from all walks of life can come together and celebrate the meaning of Christmas. The Meaning of Christmas and Digital Community Experiences in Gaming While the meaning of Christmas is traditionally associated with physical closeness and being together with family and friends, the digital gaming world offers parallel opportunities for community and gathering. Especially during the Christmas season, online games demonstrate how they can bridge the gap between people and create communal experiences. Community Despite Distance: Online Gaming Worlds The Christmas season is a time for coming together, and games like "World of Warcraft" or "Final Fantasy XIV" provide a platform where people can come together despite physical distances. The Christmas events that take place in these games are characterized by the meaning of Christmas: community. Players organize in-game celebrations, exchange gifts, and embark on cooperative quests. These actions not only strengthen in-game friendships but also reflect the essence of Christmas – togetherness, regardless of real-world distance. Cooperative Games and the Spirit of Sharing The meaning of Christmas also manifests in the spirit of sharing and generosity. Cooperative games like "Among Us" or "Don't Starve Together" require cooperation and mutual support. Players work together to overcome challenges, creating a sense of belonging. This teamwork is a digital representation of Christmas community: people supporting each other and experiencing joy together. The Role of Clans and Gaming Communities Clans and gaming communities often represent an extended family. During the Christmas season, many of these communities strengthen their bonds through special activities. Whether it's charity streams where games are played for a good cause or simply sharing Christmas stories in forums and chats, the meaning of Christmas, the sense of belonging and togetherness, is celebrated here as well. Virtual Gift-Giving The digital space allows for celebrating the meaning of Christmas through virtual gift-giving. Whether it's through gifting game time, in-game items, or collectively exploring new games, the joy of giving and receiving is also experienced in the virtual world. Such gestures strengthen social ties and promote a sense of community in line with the values of the Christmas season. The Meaning of Christmas: Giving and Receiving Giving gifts is one of the traditional ways the meaning of Christmas is expressed. In the world of games, this can happen through sharing in-game items or giving games themselves. Each of these gestures reflects the spirit of giving, closely tied to the essence of Christmas. The Meaning of Christmas: Giving and Receiving in the Context of Gaming The meaning of Christmas often unfolds in the joy of giving and the gratitude of receiving. This harmonious interplay of giving and receiving finds an exciting parallel in the world of gaming. Video games can be more than a means of entertainment – they can serve as vessels for generosity and community, especially during the Christmas season. Giving in the Gaming Community The principle of giving becomes evident in gaming through various actions. During the Christmas season, we find in-game events where players receive special items as gifts or can share them with others. Games like "Rocket League" and "Fortnite" host special Christmas events centered around sharing. However, it's not just about material items. Players also give their time, attention, and support by helping others, for example, to conquer challenging levels or complete quests. This giving and receiving strengthens the sense of community and is a direct reflection of the meaning of Christmas. Receiving with Gratitude Receiving often means accepting help or receiving gifts from fellow players in the gaming world. The willingness to accept help not only fosters interpersonal connections but also enriches the gaming experience. Gratitude for received assistance or gifts enhances the sense of community and personal bonds within the gaming world. During the Christmas season, the frequency of such friendly gestures increases, making the gaming experience even warmer and more fulfilling. Shared Experiences in the Spirit of Sharing The meaning of Christmas also manifests in the shared experiences that arise from playing together as a community. Multiplayer games provide a platform to spend time together and create memories. Playing cooperative missions or engaging in friendly competitions can be seen as a digital equivalent to singing Christmas carols together or sitting down together on Christmas Eve. Sharing these experiences is a form of giving that is often underestimated. Charity and Fundraising in the Gaming World Inspired by the spirit of Christmas giving, many players and organizations engage in charity streams or fundraising campaigns. These events reflect the meaning of Christmas in a way that goes beyond personal experience and presents the gaming community as a force for good. Such actions embody the principle of giving in its purest form – selfless and with the goal of helping others. Festive Atmosphere in Virtual Worlds Game developers often embrace the meaning of Christmas and incorporate it into their game worlds through special Christmas events or themes. These can put players in a festive mood that connects them with the meaning of Christmas in a way that goes beyond the material. Reflection on the Essentials Last but not least, the meaning of Christmas is a time for reflection on what truly matters in life. Just as we come together with family to celebrate the meaning of Christmas, games also bring people together and create memories and experiences that have significance beyond the game itself. Conclusion When we think about the meaning of Christmas, we see that it plays an important role not only in real life but also in the virtual world of video games. Games can evoke the same feelings of unity, contemplation, and joy that we associate with Christmas. They reflect what the Christmas season means to us: a time to focus on our fellow human beings and on what truly matters to us. Video games have the potential to capture and convey the meaning of Christmas in their own unique way. Another article about the meaning of Christmas you can find at the wiki-page Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

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letthebookbegin · 1 year ago

Text

You look around, blinking rain out of your eyes, holding the bouquet out in front of you pleadingly.

'Hello?' You call. The storm answers you with a flash. A figure is lit up amongst the gloom, hair long enough to cover its eyes.

'Your flowers!' You call out, but the figure had vanished with the light. Thunder booms on cue and you push the wet hair out of your eyes. A tiredness beyond sleep has a hold of your limbs now. You reach into your bag, looking for a source of inspiration, and pull out the foil left over from your lunch. Arranging it over the bouquet to give it some measure of protection, you decide you've done enough and finally step inside.

Your calico hears your keys and is at the door to welcome you, already meowing in indignation that you'd left her behind again.

"Alright, okay," you sigh, never too tired to give her the attention she demands. You crouch down to pet her and freeze. There's a crumpled bouquet sitting politely by the paws of your cat.

It's exactly the same as the one you left outside. You wouldn't have realised it had you not spent so much time holding it, but it matches up perfectly; each leaf is bent the same way, each flower blooming as little or as much as it should be to be a perfect copy.

Your cat bumps her head into your still palm and you snap out of it. Of course they're not identical. Someone must have pushed this bouquet through the letterbox and left another on her doorstep. Who? A question for the morning. You just need some sleep. You fill a vase with water and dump the flowers in it, then crawl into bed without changing out of your wet clothes. Your cat follows you in and you lift up the blanket to make space for her purring body.

You wake in the middle of the night, shivering. You finally change out of your clothes and go looking for your cat, lonely and miserable. You find her calling for you, squeezed under the sofa. Dread drops like a weight in your stomach: you pull her out despite her protests and anxiously search her for any harm. There's nothing physically wrong, but you know instinctively, fluent in the silent language two creatures with different tongues have grown used to using to communicate - she's in pain. She meows pitifully, looking up at you with eyes full of trust in the person who looks after her, beseeching you to fix it.

Choose Your Own Adventure

Things happen in threes, people always seem to say. Well, so far today you've been yelled at by your manager and soaked by the ol' reliable collaboration of a bus and a puddle, and you quite fancy passing out in your bed so you're fully unconscious by the time the third thing manages to find you. You look down as you fumble with your keys and pause - there's a rumpled bouquet shaking on your doorstep, clearly blown out of someone's arms with the wind.

#sr

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

persistence

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ when spencer finds out that the reader has a stalker, he is determined to not let history repeat itself.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ stalker-like activity, death threats, few swear words, descriptions of blood, puking, spencer being kinda emotionally manipulative

word count ↠ 8.2k

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.”-- Vincent Van Gogh

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands. Her fingers trembled, tears blurring her vision as she reread the words over and over. Written in an ominous red ink, a chicken-scratch-like writing filled the page.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

It had all started two months ago.

First, it was the dark blue Sedan that she began noticing sat across the street from her apartment complex. Of course it easily could’ve belonged to one of the many people who lived in the complex, or perhaps even a friend of theirs. At first, it went unnoticed by her. It was only when she started taking note of the hours it was parked there that she began to get slightly concerned.

8am to 8pm. Every single day.

Like clockwork.

She’d peak through her living room curtains at 8am, and watch the car pull into its usual spot. It wouldn’t move all day but as soon as it struck 8pm, it left again- only to return the next day.

However, ever the sceptic, she didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. Her mind came up with countless possibilities. The owner was staying with a friend who lived close by (but then why would the car not be there overnight?), or perhaps it was an plain-clothed officer doing some form of undercover work? Honestly, there was nothing she hadn’t considered. So while the presence of the unexplainable car was a little unnerving, it wasn’t enough to make her paranoid.

The paranoia began when sheets of paper began being posted through her letterbox. They always came between the times that the blue car was parked outside, and had only a few words on each one that was delivered.

‘I’ve been watching you, you know.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’

‘That boyfriend of yours, does he hold you like I did?’

‘Does he touch you like I did?’

Whilst they weren’t exactly threats, they were enough to set her skin alight. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumpy and paranoid.

Spencer noticed it, too.

He’d seen the subtle change in his girlfriend’s body language, but didn’t want to push her on the matter. He had asked once, but she’d reassured him that she was fine. So he decided that he’d let her confide in him when she was ready, but that didn’t mean that this change in behaviour didn’t make his heart ache.

He was a profiler, one of the best, he knew the behavioural tells that signalled fear.

So what was she so afraid of?

Then the phone calls started.

Y/N heard the buzz of her phone, assuming it was Spencer calling. He was out of state on a case, but he always called to check up on her, or to notify her he was almost home. Although they didn’t live together yet, Spencer spent most of his spare time at her apartment. (He’d joked once that it was because her place was bigger than his, but really it was because his work took him away from her so often that he wanted to spend any spare minute he could with her.)

Reaching for the device, she frowned as she saw ‘Unknown Number’ flash across the screen.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

and then she heard it.

Heavy, husky breathing on the other end of the line.

The caller didn’t speak.

Unease filled her as she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. She placed her phone down beside her, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempted to rationalise what’d just happened.

Probably a butt dial, or maybe even a wrong number?

She pushed it to the back of her mind, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t have to confirm what she already knew was true.

The second call came two days later.

Spencer had returned earlier that day from an exhausting but overall successful case. He hadn’t even stopped by his place after landing, instead opting to go straight to Y/N’s apartment, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her for the first time in a week.

He let himself in with the key she’d given him for their one year anniversary, as he quietly made his way into the home. He called out her name, announcing his presence so she’d know he was home.

When she didn’t come to greet him in the hallway, or even call back to let him know she’d heard him he frowned. He slipped off his shoes before moving down the hallway, his eyes finally landing on her figure in the living room. She was stood by the large window that overlooked the street below them, her phone pressed to her ear. Spencer took in her body language, noting how her shoulders were tensed, and how the hand not holding her phone was gripping tightly onto the curtains as she peaked between them.

The unknown caller hung up, and Y/N looked down at her phone in her hand, eyes welling with tears- still unaware of Spencer’s presence behind her.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, trying not to startle her but still managing to.

She shrieked, turning around to face him, relief filling her features as she saw the familiar sight of her boyfriend. She forced a smile on her lips and pushed her worries away, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly and hoping he hadn’t already seen them. “Spence! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were home.” She chuckled.

His frown only deepened as he moved toward her. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she quickly came up with an excuse. “Oh, It was no-one.” She waved it off, hoping she’d played it off well enough to ease his worry.

Once he reached her he put his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight hug, his arms around her waist. She sighed, hugging him back with her arms around his neck.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, placing a kiss there that was so soft and delicate that it almost moved her to tears. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you or worrying you then you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I’m here.” He whispered.

“I know.” She whispered back, squeezing him gently to comfort herself. “Thank you.”

Truth is, she knew she could tell Spencer what was happening. She knew that he would immediately inform his team, and with their wonderful minds and Garcia’s infinite systems, they’d have their unsub within days. So what was stopping her?

or more specifically, who was stopping her?

The answer would be Maeve, the woman that Spencer once loved, who he lost so suddenly and so tragically. She’d heard what had happened, and had comforted Spencer when he cried as he told her of the only other woman he’d ever loved, apart from Y/N. He’d confided in her about Maeve around four months into their relationship, and Y/N was grateful that Spencer trusted her enough to tell her such a thing. Losing the person you loved like that? Y/N couldn’t fathom it. Her heart ached for Spencer, and the heartbreak he’d endured.

She didn’t want to worry him over what might be nothing. After what happened with Maeve, she didn’t want to make him suffer all that again, to make him think that it was all happening again. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt, and she knew that telling him is exactly what it would do- make him anxious, worried. She knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand. He’d go into overdrive trying to protect her, to prevent what happened to Maeve from happening to her. But still, she refused to be the one that set those events into motion. She knew it was stupid, he boyfriend was in the FBI- who are exactly the type of people you’d go to if you had a stalker.

She had tried to tell him a few times but when she opened her mouth to say the words, nothing would come out.

The final straw was the letters.

The first one was pushed through her letterbox on a Friday afternoon. Spencer was at work, thankfully only on a paperwork day instead of being called for a case. There was no name or address on the front of the letter.

She felt sick. Immediately she knew it was from him. At least she presumed it was a ‘he’, from the possessive tone of voice in the notes.

She ripped it open, taking out the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, both sides filled with that chicken scratch writing. Her eyes skimmed over the words written before her, tears blurring her vision. It was a love letter. Her stalker even gave her a nickname, ‘Dove’.

‘My darling dove, you were made for me.’

‘My love for you knows no bounds.’

‘You’ve got such a beautiful laugh, I’ve heard it.’

‘And your skin, so perfect, so soft looking. I’d love to run my fingers along your-’

Y/N let the letter drop to the floor as she felt the bile rise in her throat, dashing to the bathroom and throwing up her stomach contents in the toilet.

She felt sickened. She couldn’t bring herself to read what was left of the letter, instead screwing it up and throwing it away. The words she had read haunted her, made her feel disgusting. She spent hours in the shower that night, as though she was scrubbing his filthy words off of her skin.

The letters continued, and with each one, the comments became more and more repulsive. Instead of declaring his undying love for her, her stalker began to get enraged. With each letter he became increasingly angrier, and it shook Y/N to her core.

‘You whore, I could hear your moaning for that little boyfriend of yours from across the street’

‘When I get my hands on you, you’ll be begging for me to show you mercy’

‘I’ve protected you, watched over you! I’ve taken care of you for months now and this is how you repay me?’

‘Fucking dirty slut. I’ll kill you for that.’

‘What a shame it would be for that pretty flesh to be torn so carelessly, but it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson, dove.’

‘You’ve made a mistake, choosing him over me.’

All of those led to one final letter.

Written in red ink, eight simple words with a sinister underlying message.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

Dropping the paper as though it had burned her, she desperately tried to slow the breaths that were increasing rapidly, willing the air to fill her lungs.

The realisation hit her like a freight train.

She was in danger, real danger. Now that her life had been threatened, she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer.

No matter the consequences, she had to come clean to Spencer.

She scrambled around her apartment, grabbing any evidence she had in the form of letters/threats and made sure she had her phone so she could show them the phone calls from an unknown number.

She glanced out the window to the street below. It was only midday, and she could see the familiar blue Sedan parked opposite her complex. She just had to get to her car safely, which should be a relatively easy task, given the numerous people who were walking down the bustling street- the perks of living on a main road.

She made it to her car thankfully unscathed, locking the doors behind her. She didn’t dare look across the road at the car, afraid of what, or who she would see. As she drove to the BAU, she anxiously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She anticipated what Spencer’s reaction was going to be- he’d be angry, definitely. Y/N was torn, she wanted to stand by the decision she’d made two months prior to not involve her boyfriend with what was going on, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a poor choice. If she’d have told Spencer earlier, things would’ve been resolved. But by telling him the truth, she couldn’t help but ponder if she was putting him or his team in danger.

Shaking her head clear the thoughts, she pulled into the car park that was next to the building. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the buildings’ entrance. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. What the hell was she going to say? ‘Hey Spence, I have a stalker who’s threatening to kill me that I neglected to tell you about, how’s your day going?’

After being granted access at the front desk, she was given a visitors badge and headed up to the sixth floor of the building. As she stood alone in the elevator, she tried to take a few breaths, feeling the familiar clawing at the back of her throat that indicated she was close to breaking down. She’d been holding it together for so long, been so fucking scared for so long.

As soon as the doors opened she was greeted with the smiling face of one Penelope Garcia.

When Spencer and her had begun dating he brought Y/N along to one of Rossi’s pasta nights and the whole team immediately took a liking to her, especially after seeing how happy she made Spencer. However Penelope in particular absolutely adored Y/N, and the two had even hung out together a few times.

Garcia gasped with a grin as the doors opened. “My sweet Y/N! I got the notification that you’d checked in downstairs and thought I’d come greet you!” She moved toward her, hugging Y/N tightly. “Are you here to see our boy wonder? He’s around here somewhere-” She pulled back when she noticed the tenseness in Y/N’s shoulders. When Garcia met her teary eyes she gasped at the sight. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N finally let the tears tremble down her cheeks, reaching into her bag to grab the handfuls of threating letters from the person who’d made her life hell for two long months. She handed them to Garcia, who after years of working that job knew from the first few words what they were dealing with.

Y/N met her worried eyes. “It’s bad, Penny. Really bad.”

Garcia nodded, shocked but still placing a comforting arm on Y/N’s back. “Reid- He never mentioned-”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to worry over nothing but- this is the first time he’s threatened my life and I’m scared, Pen. I’m really scared.”

Garcia burst into action, coaxing Y/N with gentle words to head into the bullpen. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, all of the team member’s heads turned toward them. Spencer’s eyes immediately fell on his girlfriend’s tear stained cheeks and within seconds he was by her side.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

She shook her head, moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let out everything she’d buried so deep inside.

He looked over at Garcia, bewildered. She simply walked up to Hotch’s office. The team could faintly hear Garcia presenting him with the papers Y/N had brought with her, explaining what she had told her when she arrived.

Minutes later Hotch came out of his office, walking down into the bullpen to where the team all looked at one another, confusion on their features.

“Y/N?” He asked as he approached her, and she pulled back from spencer to see him, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “You’re gonna need to tell us everything. You may be in immediate danger.”

Y/N nodded and Hotch headed off toward the round table room, Garcia scurrying in behind him. The rest of the team, with concerned glances to one another, followed into the room. This left Y/N and Spencer alone in the bullpen.

She felt Spencer gripping her hand, squeezing gently. Worry laced in his tone, he moved to stand before her and locked onto her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat, her voice quiet with shame as she spoke. “I have a stalker. He sends letters, calls just to breathe down the line and scare me. In his recent letter, he said he’s gonna kill me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand dropping from hers and he turning and stalked toward the board room. He had to see the evidence for himself.

He reached the room and the groups gazes all shifted to him, but he could’ve cared less. He reached out for one of the sheets of paper, eyes quickly scanning over the threatening words as Y/N entered the room behind him.

“When did this start, Y/N?” JJ asked, that caring, motherly tone present in her voice.

“About two months ago.”

“Did you notice anything odd about the neighbourhood beforehand? Cars that weren’t normally there, people stood on street corners at odd times of day?” Derek queried, his eyes scanning over some of the notes she’d received.

She nodded. “There was a car I noticed, right at the start. I didn’t think much of it until I started taking note of the timings. It would sit there all day, but be gone overnight. Then it would return the next day.”

“Do remember the colour, or make of car?”

“Yeah, a dark blue Sedan. Then a few days later the phone calls started.”

“Garcia I need you to run through Y/N’s phone records, see if you can trace the number they were calling from.” Hotch ordered and Garcia quickly left the room, heading to her bat cave.

“Here, listen to this.” JJ started, holding up one of the first letters. “I’m doing this because I love you, pretty dove. So very much. It’s okay, you’ll see.” She looked up to her team. “He’s planning something.”

Hotch turned his attention to her. “Y/N’s safety is our primary concern. This unsub seems to have fixated on her, for whatever reason. Y/N, do you have any ex boyfriends or enemies we need to know about?”

“I have five ex’s, but I don’t think any of them would be capable of this.” She reasoned, but there was a seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

At her words, Spencer stood up, slamming the letters down on the table with an audible thud before leaving the room. Y/N stared after him hopelessly, Hotch clearing his throat before speaking again.

“I’ll need a list of their names.”

Derek piped up. “We also need to know locations of spots that you frequent, anywhere you may have met this guy. Coffee shops, restaurants, even the library. No detail is too small, okay?”

Y/N nodded, turning back to stare out the door that Spencer had stormed out of moments before. “I’m just going to go check on him.” She murmured, earning an apologetic smile from JJ.

She found him outside the building, sat on one of the stone steps of the staircase that led up to the buildings entrance. He had his head in his hands, trying to calm down the thoughts that sped through his overworking mind.

She sat beside him, draping his coat that she’d grabbed from his desk over his shoulders to combat the cold winter air. “You’ll catch a cold.” She muttered, offering a small smile as he looked over at her. Despite how he felt, he let the smallest of smiles find its way onto his lips at the comment. She had a stalker threatening her life and she was worried about him catching a cold?

They sat in silence for a little before Y/N broke it. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, looking out to the street, watching people walk by. When Y/N didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” She whispered sincerely.

“Why didn’t you say something, Y/N? I would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.” He promised, trying to make his voice sound strong, but failing as it cracked with his words.

“I didn’t think it was important. He wasn’t threatening at the start, and I thought I could handle it.” Now the words were leaving her mouth, she knew she sounded stupid.

“You didn’t think it was important?” Spencer repeated back to her, his breaths heavy as he failed to understand her reasoning. “Y/N you are the most important thing in the world to me. Okay? Please tell me you know that.” He turned his body toward her.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just I know- after everything that happened before with Maeve-“ She paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”

His breath hitched when she said Maeve’s name, and Y/N could almost see him replaying the moment he lost her in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory.

“I’m not going to let that happen to you- no, not you. Never you.” He sniffed, reaching over to take her hand in his.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes once more. She cuddled into his side, her head dropping on his shoulder. She sniffled. “I’m scared, Spencer.”

“It’s okay. He’s not coming anywhere near you, Y/N. I swear to you, he’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Over the next few days, the team spent hours analysing ever piece of evidence Y/N had received, and Garcia went through tons of security footage, trying to get a good look at whoever was in the blue Sedan. She’d ran the license plates, but they’d come back as being fake, so that had been a pretty dead end, and the phone number she’d traced had come from a payphone, so there was no lead there either.

Spencer was evidently over-working himself, not taking breaks from work to eat or sleep. He reread the words a hundred times, desperately looking for what it was he must’ve missed. He was filled with this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep Y/N safe. To succeed where he’d failed previously. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake he’d made with Maeve. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgement and it cost Maeve her life. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

There wasn’t time for that, not when Y/N was in danger.

Y/N spent most of her time alongside Spencer at the BAU, mostly because he insisted that she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her at all times. She only went home in the evenings so she could change and sleep in her own bed, but always with a police escort that Spencer had himself done a thorough background check on and knew could be trusted.

Eventually, It had been an entire week. Spencer had only had a handful of sleep, only when the exhaustion became too much did he pass out and actually get a few hours of sleep before he was right back at it. Members of the team who attempted to gently voice their concern for him received a scowl in response, with Y/N even trying to get through to him, but he just shrugged her off. Ultimately, Hotch had to pull him aside to talk.

Hotch walked into the room where Y/N sat reading silently in the corner while Spencer’s eyes ran over the words he’d already read a hundred times.

“Reid, Can I speak to you?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, pissed that he was being interrupted from the task before him. He grunted under his breath, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hotch brought Spencer up to his office, closing the door behind them so there was some dilution to the raised voices that were definitely going to come from this conversation. He sighed, turning to face the younger man and crossing his arms. “The Bureau don’t want us using any more of our time on this case. The unsub has been inactive for a week, and we have other cases building up that take priority.”

Spencer scoffed. “You want us to stop? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid not. The order came from above me, I have no power here. The best we can do for now is send Y/N home with police protection until this guy resurfaces.”

“You wanna send her home? No way, Hotch! There’s some son of a bitch after her and you want her to be at home?” He was angrier than Hotch had seen him be in a long while.

Hotch sighed. “Reid. It’s out of my hands. I recognise how hard this is for you, but we have no choice.”

“But I- I can’t protect her if she’s not with me! I can’t keep her safe.” His tone changed from angry to more of a begging. “Please, Hotch. There’s got to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer huffed, his anger returning. “Bullshit! You know as well as I do that she’s vulnerable as soon as she leaves here. Police presence or not, if something happens to her-”

Hotch shot him a warning look, which made Spencer stop mid-sentence.

“You’re done with this case for now, understand? Until he resurfaces, we have other priorities.” Hotch spoke. Spencer scoffed, walking and brushing past his unit chief. “That’s an order, Reid.” He warned.

Spencer ignored him, heading back to the room he’d left Y/N in, his mind refocused on getting back to his previous task- despite Hotch’s orders.

He stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, earning a surprised squeak from Y/N, who still sat in the corner with her book in hand. He looked over at her, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “He wants you to go home, and we have to put the case on hold because we have others to work on. Can you believe that? How could he ask that of me?” He laughed humourlessly as Y/N shut her book, placing it next to her.

She sighed, standing, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

It was just the protective side of him coming out, and at first Y/N thought it was endearing, but he couldn’t neglect his own needs to favour hers any more. She wouldn’t let him.

“Spencer, you gotta stop this. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m so grateful, but you’re killing yourself here.” Her voice was gentle, hoping she’d be able to appeal to him.

“No! No Y/N I’m not stopping until we get this guy, until you’re safe.” He snapped.

“You heard what Hotch said, you have other cases that need to take priority.” She moved toward him, still trying to reason with him. She was still scared to death, and she didn’t particularly want to leave Spencer’s side- after all he made her feel safe. But there were people who needed him and his team, and if she was no longer in imminent danger, his talents were needed elsewhere. It made her feel sick, but it’s the way it was. They were just going to have to wait for this guy to make his next move.

“But Y/N, you are my priority. Don’t you get that?” He asked, moving back as she came toward him. The motion hurt her, so she stood still.

“I do, I promise you I do, but there’s people out there who need that beautiful mind of yours more than I do right now.”

He scoffed. “So you just expect me to give up?”

“Of course not, but Hotch is right. What if this guy never makes any other moves? What if he just wanted to scare me? You can’t waste your time. It’s too valuable.”

“And what if the second you walk out of those doors he gets you?” Spencer shouted, his arms coming out by his sides to exaggerate his point.

“Then you’ll find me. If that happened, which is a worse-case scenario, I have faith that you and this team would find me and bring me home.”

“And if I can’t? If I fail, again? If I have to watch you die like I watched-” His breath hitched, his voice catching. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, No. I will not lose you, do you understand? I will not stop looking for this son of a bitch, not ever. I’m not letting you go home, Y/N. I’m sorry, that’s final.”

“Spencer, you can’t keep me here. You’d be disobeying Hotch’s direct orders-”

He shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Y/N. I’ll talk to Hotch, change his mind. Just- stay here. Please.” The last word was quiet and pleading, a stark contrast from the tone he was using before. He picked up the evidence files he was going through and walked away, feet stomping as his anger still radiated off of him.

Y/N had stood there for a minute, collecting herself before she took a shaky deep breath, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

She walked out to the bullpen, ignoring how Spencer had asked her to stay. Her eyes met Derek’s who offered her an apologetic smile.

“Hey.” He called out to her as she passed by. “Whatever the kid said, he didn’t mean it. He just wants to keep you safe.”

She gave a sad smile. “I know. Um, is it alright if I just step out the front for some air? I’m feeling a little boxed in.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep you company, make sure you get back alright.” He stood up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket and accompanying her downstairs.

When they got there Y/N turned to him. “Is it alright if I have a moment alone? I’ll stay where you can see me, I just need a minute.”

Derek was hesitant, but nodded. She pushed open the doors, out into the cold night. She remained stood by the front doors, where they bright lights from indoors seeped outside, lighting up the pavement. She took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs, hoping it’ll help alleviate the stinging pain in her heart. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to keep her tears at bay. She appreciated what Spencer was doing, and adored his instinct to protect her, keep her safe. She knew how stubborn he could be at times, but now she thought about it, maybe when she sided with Hotch earlier it made it seem like she didn’t have his back, which was certainly not the case.

Derek watched as Y/N collected herself, seeing that she was about to turn and come back inside. Suddenly someone bumped into his side, his attention turning from Y/N to the person who collided with him. He looked over to see a young man he didn’t recognise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. My apologies.” The man apologised before walking off.

Derek furrowed his brow, before turning back to look outside.

Y/N wasn’t there.

He bolted forward toward the doors, flinging them open and looking left and right for any sight of her.

She was long gone. And so was whoever took her.

Hearing a crinkle beneath his feet, Derek looked down at the sound, noticing a scrap piece of newspaper on the floor where Y/N had been stood.

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. On it, written in the familiar blood red chicken scratch was the same threatening message Y/N had received before.

‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’

Derek placed the paper down on the roundtable, that the team was now gathered around, shock and worry on their faces.

Hotch closed his eyes with a sigh as he looked at the paper, guilt rushing over him. Just then Spencer came into the room, immediately picking up on the mood that had settled over the team.

“What’s’‘-” His eyes landed on the message, the realisation spreading over his features. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a sort of denial in his voice.

“He has her.” Derek confirmed, bowing his head down in shame that he hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to.

“Morgan, What happened? You took her out to get some air and then what?” Emily asked, trying to establish where it’d gone wrong.

“I took my eyes off of her for a minute, some guy bumped into me and it distracted me, and when I looked back she was gone.”

Emily’s mouth opened as she connected the dots. “It must’ve been a distraction, one guy bumps into you so that you take your eyes off of her while the other guy grabs her.”

“So what, we’re looking for a partner here as well?” JJ posed, looking up at her team.

“It would seem so. He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he took it.” Rossi chimed in.

“This is now an active investigation, we have a missing woman who’s already been gone for nearly an hour. We’ve got to work fast.” Hotch ordered, which sent the team out of their seats, each with a task assigned to them. However, Spencer still sat in one of the chairs, trembling fingers trailing over the words before him. The air in the room seemed thinner, his lungs working harder to fill themselves.

“Reid? Reid.” Morgan tried, but all he got from Spencer was little incoherent mumbles.

Finally, he looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes, the words he’d been whispering falling from his lips in a more audible whimper. “He’s gonna kill her.” He choked on his words, the realisation crashing down on him. “I’m going to lose her too.”

Time was a precious thing.

Spencer had never been more aware of how quickly the seconds passed than he was at that moment.

He was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, hands gripping the sides in a vice-like grip, desperately trying to push down the nauseating feeling creeping its way up his throat. After the note that Morgan found, Spencer had rushed into the toilets, standing over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved, holding himself back from being sick. He took heavy breaths, eyes screwing shut as he tried to think of anything other than the danger that Y/N was in.

He tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of the situation.

The thought set in motion a memory that he’d much rather forget, one that he pushed so far back in his mind so he could deny it had ever happened, that he’d ever allowed it to happen.

Ultimately, it was the curse of his brilliant memory, having the ability to perfectly recall things that happened years before.

As if he could ever forget that day, eidetic memory or not.

“Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.”

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!”

Diane has her arm around Maeve, gun pointed at her head. The bullet she’d shot into Spencer’s shoulder felt numb, the scorching pain felt irrelevant to the fear spiking his heart.

“I didn’t. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place.” His eyes lock on Maeve’s, so full of fear, and he tries to reassure that she’ll be fine- because he knows she will. How many times has he talked down an unsub waving a gun around? She would be okay, she had to be.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would. In a heartbeat.

“Thomas Merton.”

Maeve’s voice was small but sure. What scared Spencer the most was how certain she sounded, as though she’d accepted that this was her fate; her end.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He knows.”

She loved him. And he loved her. Oh how bittersweet.

“Who’s Thomas Merton, who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us.”

Its only a moment’s hesitation, a moment that he should’ve reached for a gun, a moment where he should’ve taken his shot.

“No.” Diane scowled.

Time is a precious thing.

and Maeve’s was up.

“Wait-”

The shot still rung clear in Spencer’s ears, a sound he was sure he would hear for the rest of his days. His breaths were heaving again, his eyes flying open as he willed the image of Maeve’s body to leave his head. But when his eyes screwed shut again, it was someone else in her place.

It wasn’t Maeve’s body on the floor anymore. Instead, in her place lay Y/N, blood gushing from the open wound at the side of her head, her lifeless body cold against the concrete floor.

That’s the thought that made him sick, throwing up into the toilet at the thought of watching Y/N die the same way he watched Maeve.

Taking gasping breaths, he sat back against the side of the cubicle, hands running down his flustered face, feeling the streaks of tears that trembled down his cheeks.

He shook his head, as if that would erase the horrific thoughts swimming around. He reminded himself that Y/N was still alive, and they had no reason as of yet to believe that she wasn’t. It was that thought that made him pull himself to stand, raking his hands through his hair and trying to calm his quivering hands.

Y/N was still out there, waiting for him to save her.

He grit his teeth together as he walked out of the toilets.

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. He was not going to lose her.

He walked back into the roundtable room, ignoring the looks he received from the team. They had been bouncing theories off of one another, trying to use their profile to figure out who their unsub was, and where they would’ve taken Y/N.

“Is it possible a woman is our unsub, or perhaps even the partner?” Emily posed, her eyes scanning over one of the letters.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think a woman would use language like this, it’s very derogatory, it exerts a power over Y/N.”

The team fell quiet in thought, only interrupted when Garcia came scurrying in, her laptop in her hands. “You’ll never guess what I just found!”

Everyone looked up to her, Hotch speaking. “What is it, Garcia?”

“I looked over the list of Y/N’s exes, and only one of them jumped out to me as a little suspicious. So I did some digging.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop before grabbing her remote and broadcasting to the team what she’d found on the TV. “Daniel ‘Danny’ Stone, 29, dated Y/N three years ago. He was her last boyfriend before she met Reid.”

“Three years? You don’t think he’s still bitter about the relationship ending?” Emily asked, confused.

“Three years is a long time. Why surface now?” JJ chimed.

“Reid, did Y/N ever mention her previous relationship ending on a rough note?” Rossi asked, turning to face the younger boy.

Spencer frowned. “She said the breakup was a little rocky, but nothing awful. The last time she spoke about him was a few months ago, said he got in some sort of accident?” He looked to Garcia for confirmation, and she nodded.

“Indeed. Stone was involved in a road collision four months ago.”

JJ hummed, looking through the medical reports on her iPad. “Says here he suffered brain damage, specifically to his pre-frontal cortex.”

“Well that would explain why this stalker seemingly came from nowhere. People who suffer damage like this are impulsive, unable to make rational choices.” Derek posed.

“So what’s the theory here? He wakes up after this accident, and because of his injury chooses to track down his ex? Three years after they break up?”

Morgan shook his head. “It isn’t a choice. Not anymore. He has to do it. He’s become fixated on her. He knows she’s with Reid, and like he said, If he can’t have her, the neither can Reid.”

“Okay, but why stalk her? What does he gain from that? Instead of just taking her and getting what he really wants?” Emily questioned.

“This newfound impulsivity would make him a risk-taker. He’ll do things that the average person wouldn’t dream of trying. But it’s unlikely that Stone actually staked out Y/N’s home, or delivered the letters to her door. He wouldn’t have the self-control to span this out over months. He just pulled the strings.”

“So that was his partner, then.” JJ deduced, earing nods from the team. “Then what does the partner gain from this? Why help Stone?”

“Maybe Stone manipulated them. Perhaps he has some form of information on them he’s using as blackmail?”

“Did you get an address on Stone, Garcia?” Hotch asked, and Garcia nodded enthusiastically.

“You know I did, It’s already been sent to your phones.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

The team all stood, heading for the doors. Spencer was quick to get up and follow, hope sparking in him now that they had an address. He was just about to leave the room when Hotch’s voice stopped him.

“Reid, you know I can’t let you come with us.” His voice was firm, he knew there could be no room for error here. Not after what happened last time.

“Like hell you can’t.” Reid snapped, turning around to face him. He’d regret his smart mouth later when Hotch undoubtedly told him off for it, but at that moment who couldn’t have cared less.

“We will get her and bring her home, but you can’t be involved in this. It’s a conflict of interest, you know that.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t a conflict of interest when you went after Foyet?”

It was a cheap shot, one that Spencer really regretted the second he said it, but amends could be made later.

Hotch’s face didn’t falter, despite the petty jab. “Yeah, and look where that got me.”

Spencer’s defesnive stance dropped, his arms falling by his sides. “Hotch. You were there when when Maeve died. Do you remember it?”

“Of course.”

“Not like I do. I can see every second of it every time I close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I almost didn’t make it out the other side, If it happened again I don’t know if I could cope-” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. “Just- Please.”

Hotch grunted, giving in. “Fine, but you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thinking. I know it will be difficult but I need your head to be in this.Y/N’s life depends on it.”

Spencer nodded and they headed down toward the SUV’s.

They pulled up to the address, lights blaring and sirens sounding. They all quickly jumped out and regrouped, strapping their kevlar vests to their chests as they moved. They were stood in front of an abandoned apartment complex, one that had ben uninhabited for years.

“Alright Morgan, Prentiss I want you to go around the back, find a way in through there, see if you can find this partner of his. JJ, Rossi and Reid you’re with me. ” Hotch ordered, as they all drew their guns and prepared to head in.

As they stealthily walked through the building, they listened for any noise that indicated where the unsub was. Hotch, who was leading the group, pushed open a door to the staircase, and they were about to head up when they heard a bang coming from the floor below them.

They headed down the stairs, seeing that they were entering the buildings basement. They rounded the corner, guns at the ready, and stepping into a small boiler room.

In the centre of the room, Daniel stood. He held a struggling Y/N to his chest, his arm around her neck and gun placed at her temple.

Spencer recalled how it the sight was all too familiar, how Diane had held Maeve the same way.

Daniel’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “If you step any closer, she dies.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay back, but I need you to put down the gun.” Hotch tried, shooting a look over his shoulder to Spencer, a look that told him to stay put.

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?” JJ asked.

“My chance do what’s right. Y/N doesn’t want me. But I love her, can’t she see that? I would do anything for her, and still she would choose him over me?” Daniel’s eyes moved to meet with Spencer’s, narrowing.

“Daniel, we know what you went through. We know about your accident, how you’ve felt so out of control since, but if you come with us we can get you the help you need.” Rossi was next to attempt to convince him, but to no avail.

“No- No!” Daniel scowled, clenching his teeth as his gaze fixated on Spencer, who’s eyes were locked with Y/N’s, trying to silently reassure her that she was going to be okay. “She’s mine. I protected her, I’ve looked out for her. She’s finally going to understand.” He looked down at Y/N, his grip on her tightening, causing her to let out a frightened yelp.

Spencer gulped, tearing his gaze from Y/N and onto the unsub, putting on a strong and unbothered facade. He wouldn’t let himself be clouded by his emotions, not this time. “You’re right. You kept her safe, and I’m very grateful that you protected her when I failed to.”

“Thats right. You failed her. I’m so much better for her.” He seethed through his teeth. “ And that’s why, if she won’t chose me, she’ll have to die with me.”

“You don’t want to do that, Daniel. Put down the gun. We’ll bring you in, and if you tell us all about this partner of yours, we’ll tell everyone that you co-operated.” JJ suggested, her gun still aimed up at him.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N gasped out, still struggling against his hold.

“Because if I can’t have you, the neither can he. No, No.” He grinned, bringing the gun up to his his own head. From where it was angled, the bullet would pass through his own head, and lodge itself in Y/N’s too. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

This time, Spencer didn’t hesitate.

One single gunshot.

Daniel collapsed to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.

Y/N fell to the ground with him in a fit of sobs, scrambling to get away from the man who lay dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing around him.

Spencer holstered his gun, immediately surging forward to wrap a trembling Y/N up in his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He cooed, rubbing a hand on her back in a soothing manner.

She sobbed into his chest as he held her, tears forming in his own eyes at the sound of her cries. But Spencer allowed himself a moment to breathe, looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the man he’d just shot without hesitation.

And he’d wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it, either.

He tightened his arms around her, thankful that she was safe. He brought her up to stand, his arms still tight around her. He looked toward his teammates, nodding gratefully at them as he walked Y/N out of the building. As he passed, he overheard JJ and Hotch’s conversation.

“Emily and Morgan found the partner fleeing out the back. They say he’s agreed to talk.”

With an internal sigh of relief, he held Y/N closer as they stepped out the doors of the building, guiding her toward the medical staff so she could be checked for injuries, despite how she told him she was fine. After it was concluded that she’d come out pretty unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises, Spencer came and sat down next to her. She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew it would take a while for her usual bright smile to return, but she was alive- and right then that was all that mattered.

He immediately took her hand in his, gripping it tightly.

“Is it over?” She asked quietly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, they got the partner, and he’s going to co-operate in return for a reduced sentence, but he’ll still be going away for a long time.”

She nodded, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Spencer. You saved me.” She whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sorry about the argument we had, I was being a jerk. I just wanted to protect you, but in the end you still ended up getting hurt.” He frowned, looking down at the gravel ground.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry you had to relive all of this again, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” She sighed, guilt overwhelming her.

“Hey, no. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He promised and she nodded against him.

Giving her hand a squeeze, he turned slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Umbrella Girl (part 7 - final part)

What happened to Cillian's house?

Warnings - mentions of baby loss / angst / smut

Taglist @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @elenavampire21 @janelongxox @noctvrnalmoth

Cillian had flown home on the next flight following Orla's call, you'd stayed home to allow him time with his family, giving him the space he needed. He hadn't called for nearly a week, and you hadn't disturbed him either, when finally your phone rang.

"Cill? Are you okay?"

"The police are still investigating. It certainly looks like arson, but they can't say one way or the other yet. Y/n, I should've been at home last week, and she knew that! That schedule was planned for months in advance, I'd have been burned alive in that house!" You both knew this, but saying it out loud somehow made it more terrifying. "Does she know where you live y/n?" You paused to think back, but no, she had no idea. The address on your records was private, she wouldn't have access to that under data protection laws.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Orla's, I'm staying here until the house is safe for me to go back to. It's a mess y/n... A complete wreck.." his voice was cracking, breaking your heart. You were desperate to hold him, but he was hundreds of miles away.

"I miss you so much... I so want to be there with you..."

"Is Emily at school?"

"Yes. She breaks up today for half term though."

"Good, I thought I'd got the dates right. I've booked you tickets for the ferry tomorrow morning, I know Emily is scared of flying.. come out here to me? I need you.."

You were stunned into silence.

"Is that okay?"

"Shut up Murphy! That's the best news I've had this week... Yes! We'll be there!"

"Thank god, thought I'd scared you off for a second!"

"You're an idiot sometimes you know that?" You laughed. "I'll see you Saturday morning, yeah?"

You arrived at the docks in Dublin just after midday, Emily launching herself into Cillian's arms as he swooped her up and kissed her cheek. He welcomed you into the embrace, kissing your lips and resting his forehead against yours. A younger lady approached you, judging by her blue eyes you assumed this was Cillian's sister, Orla.

"It's so good to finally meet you, he's told me so much about you! Here, let me help with those bags." She took your suitcase and pulled it along with you to her car. You arm linked with Cillians left, his right carrying Emily who was telling him everything about the ferry ride over and how much she enjoyed it.

"I've got another surprise for you waiting at Orla's, Em," he whispered loud enough for you to hear.

"Cill...." He shushed you playfully with his eyes. You hated him spending his money on either of you - you didn't want people to think that was all you wanted...

Getting into Orla's house just outside the city, she took your bag up to Cillian's room and led you all through to the dining room. A man walked in holding a wriggling toddler.

"This is my brother in law, Damien, and my nephew Leo. This," he introduced you, "is y/n." Damien shook your hand and you cooed over Leo, giggling away in his father's arms. Emily tugged on Cillian's shirt impatiently, generating a scowl from you.

"Emily we've just walked through the door - you need to wait!"

"Its okay, I'll take her." Cillian took her hand and led her into a playroom next to the kitchen area. You heard her squeal and walked through to see the biggest dolls house you'd ever seen, it was huge - fully kitted out with furniture and a family of 4.. it was breathtaking.

"Cillian... I can't..." You mumbled.

"It isn't for you, it's for her!" He laughed, and smiled watching Emily begin to place the furniture in the house and set her dolls up for what looked like a picnic in the little living room area.

He turned to face you, bringing you close to him.

"Thank you.. thank you for coming out.. and being here.."

"Together, hand in hand, remember?" You touched your nose against his, both of you smiling into each other.

The police called round later that evening. You were sat in the dining room, hand in Cillian's under the table, as they explained.

"We found petrol cans littered around the outside of the house. Three had been thrown through the letterbox, and set alight. Fortunately, your neighbour has CCTV cameras, and we caught images of the person who did it - take a look, see if you recognise them?" One of the officers opened the laptop and played the video. Cillian squeezed your hand, preparing himself to watch his home be destroyed. You could make out the image of a person dropping the cans, and the police froze the screen on the clearest image they had. They zoomed in, and Cillian's mouth dropped.

"I know him..." Your eyes widened. You did too...

"The fuck is he doing there?" You gasped. The Assistant Director of Peaky Blinders, James, was staring right back at you from the screen.

"We have him in custody - he's admitted everything. He'll be charged in the morning. We think you know he has a connected with Lisa?" The officer nodded to Cillian.

"He does. But why's he involved? He's got nothing to do with any of this?

"He's been in on this since the beginning. He's given us Lisa's location in London. The Net Police tracked her down this morning. Y/n, you need to know.. she was about half a mile from your house.." you gasped again.. James must have had access to your records... She must have seduced him to get close to them.. Cillian pulled you close and kissed your head.

"Thank fuck I got you away... Where's your mum?"

"She's gone to her sisters place in Manchester for the weekend.. Cillian she'd have killed us!"

"But she didn't, did she? And she's locked up.. fuck.. this might be over?" He turned to the officers. "Is it over?"

"They've not mentioned anyone else being involved, and James was more than happy to spill the beans - we'll continue to keep an eye on you for a while, just to be on the safe side."

"Thank you... For everything... Thank you." You whispered to the officers, barely able to form a sentence. You were still worried, but you felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Once the police had left, you fell into each others arms, holding on tighter than you ever had. The relief flooding you both.

"Where's Emily?" You asked, as he was kissing your neck.

"In the garden with Orla... You'll have to control yourself a little while longer Cillian, it's nearly dinner time..." You groaned, feeling his lips gently nibbling at your earlobe.

You felt his hand trail up your thigh, over your backside as he pulled you into him.

"You have no idea how much I want to bury my fingers inside you against this wall, right now y/n..." You turned your face to kiss him deeply, before pulling away winking and walking towards the garden, a sexy little sway as you walked, chuckling to yourself.

Dinner was a Chinese takeaway, Orla's insistence even though you'd offered to cook them all a meal to say thank you for having them. Once it was all cleaned up and the little ones were in bed, Emily set up in a small single Batman themed bed (another treat from Cillian) in Leo's room, the four of you sat in the living room with a bottle of wine. Your body was wrapped in Cillian's on the sofa, Orla looking over at the two of you.

"You two are like lovestruck teenagers, you know that?" She laughed, watching the two of you stealing glances at each other and stroking each others hands.

"Too much PDA from your older brother, Orla?" Cillian pulled a face making Orla laugh.

"No, it's so lovely seeing you happy, especially after everything that's happened these last couple of years.. it's been a tough one hasn't it?"

"It's been difficult, but it's over now. I can focus on picking myself back up now. I'll finish Peaky, and take some time off, I think," Cillian yawned, kissing your hand. "I'm beat. Orla, Damien.. we can't thank you enough." He stood, taking your hand in his and leading you out the room.

"What are family for Cillian, you're welcome here as long as you need to be," Damien smiled.

Within minutes you were in his room against the wall, jeans round your ankles, his fingers knuckle deep in your core pulling forward against your walls. His hand covering your mouth to quieten you so you didn't wake the kids up in the next room.

"Fuck... Cillian don't stop..." Your orgasm was already building following the constant teasing between the two of you that evening, and he increased the speed on his movements inside you. Your hand sneaking underneath the waistband of his jeans to grip his erection firmly, making him hiss slightly at the sensation as you pumped him slowly under his jeans, the fabric not allowing for too much movement.

"You gonna cum for me y/n? Let me feel it..." He whispered in your ear, making you shudder. You nodded, before moaning deep into his hand, your orgasm washing over you like a hurricane. Your hand gripped onto his cock a little tighter as his fingers came to a stop, before bringing them to his lips to taste you.

You kicked off your jeans from your ankles and sank to your knees, pulling his jeans down with you. He looked down at you and watched you tease the tip of his cock with your tongue, lightly licking around the head and down his shaft. He rested forward, one hand against the wall, the other in your hair, groaning as he watched you take him inside your mouth painfully slowly. Inch by inch, sucking gently, before he felt the back of your throat.

"Fuck yes..." He closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, trying not to blow his load down your throat. You started bobbing your head back and forth, your teeth scraping the underside of his cock as you did making him grip your hair tight. You really wanted to make him come in your mouth but your core was screaming for him. Standing up and pulling both your t-shirts over your head you led him over to the bed, pushing him onto his back. Crawling over his legs, you hovered over his cock, bringing your fingers down to you core and running them slowly over your wetness.

"Want this, Cill?" He groaned watching your fingers running through your folds and nodded quickly. You sank onto him, making both of you gasp, and started rocking your hips back and forth. He held onto your hips guiding you, and you leaned back, finding your rhythm. His fingers toyed with your clit as you rode him, and you could feel a second orgasm approaching. Sensing it, he flipped you over to lie on your front on the bed. Pushing your legs together, raising your hips slightly, he moved over them and started pushing himself back inside you, his chest now on your back as he started thrusting into you. You clawed at the bedframe, the new angle hitting your g spot perfectly.

"Fuck you're so tight... This feel good baby?" His voice was back in your ear now, his lips kissing and biting over your shoulders and neck as his thrusts became more powerful. You had to muffle your cries of ecstacy into the pillow. "Good girl... you gonna cum again for me huh?"

You couldn't stop it if you tried, you came hard, your walls clenching every inch of him. His thrusts slowed slightly, before he pulled out of you and lifted your hips up so you were on your knees, your face still in the pillows. Lining himself you, he thrust hard into you, making you bury your face again and grip the bedframe as he fucked you hard and fast, the only sounds being your skin slapping together and the wet sounds where your bodies were joined.

"Fuck... Shit... Gonna come y/n..." He grunted softly as you felt him spurt his seed deep inside you, panting as he came down from his high, before pulling out and laying beside you, stroking your face gently.

"I love you.. y/n.." he whispered softly, taking your face in his hands and kissing your lips. You froze, gasped softly and pulled back. Was it too soon? Probably. Did you care? Nope. You saw a flash of panic in his eyes and smiled.

"I love you, Cillian. I do.. I've not felt this way for anyone else. Ever." He grinned, and pulled you into his arms.

"I've been thinking.. I need a change of scenery. What would you say if I moved to London? Permanently?" You leaned up on your arm and trailed your fingers over his chest hair.

"What about Ireland? All your family are here?"

"Yeah but they've had more than 40 years of me. You and Emily are in London - and that's where I want to be."

"Cillian I'd never make you leave your family - please know that?"

"No ones making me do anything anymore y/n. I'm doing this for us - there is an us, right?" You punched him lightly on the arm making him chuckle. "I've already started talking to estate agents. There's a beautiful 3 bed townhouse in Kilburn. It looks stunning y/n, you'd love it."

"What do you need a 3 bed house for? There's only you?" He looked down at you and raised his eyebrow - you felt your core throb slightly, that eyebrow raise was sexy as fuck... And you were certain he knew it.

"Well, Emily's gonna need a room. And us. And a spare room for guests maybe.. or..." Your stomach flipped.

"Cillian.. If you're asking me what I think you're asking me.."

"I'm not asking for anything y/n, I'm not even asking you to move in, unless you want to obviously... I just.. I just want to be near you. All the time. I know it's early days still, but we've been through more in a short time than most couples go through in a lifetime. I can't ever see myself with anyone else, ever.. what do you say?" He was stroking your face, and you were lost in his eyes.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"I'm in charge of the decorating. I've seen the photos of your last house Cill, your taste is shocking.." he laughed and tickled you until you were back underneath him, and you groaned at his hardness pushing against your thigh. Kissing him deeply, he was soon back inside you, slotting in like a jigsaw piece finding its other half.

**********************************************************

Epilogue - 1 year later

You and Emily had spent the afternoon tidying and cleaning, waiting for Cillian to come home after a month back in Dublin onstage at the Gaiety Theatre performing in Enda Walsh's latest production - Cillian's first work since finishing Peaky Blinders 8 months ago. The show was due to go live any time now. You'd moved into his Kilburn house 6 months ago after realising you were spending 5 days out of 7 there every week anyway. Lisa and James were in prison for a fair few years, being found guilty for arson, slander and harassment.

"Mum, he's here!!" Emily ran from the window after hearing a car pull up and you both went into the kitchen - Emily sat at the table pretending to do her homework and you at the counter on your laptop.

"Hey girls? I'm home!" He called, and you walked into the hallway smiling before embracing him tightly. He kissed you and dropped his bag on the floor and his keys in the bowl. Emily walked through and hugged him right, before standing as straight as possible in the hallway. You winked at her, and looked at Cillian who was staring at Emily.

"How've you both been? What have I missed?" He moved into the kitchen and put the kettle on, desperate for a home made cup of tea.

"Nothing much really.. Emily and I went shopping this afternoon and she's got herself a few new t shirts, I bought a few things I think we'll need soon." He looked at you and smiled, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Look at my new t-shirt Cillian!" Emily danced in front of him, twirling round in circles making him laugh.

"I can't see it while your spinning like a merry-go-round Em, stand still!" She stood still and you bit your lip. "What's it say on the front... Hang on.." he gently held Emily's shoulders and read the slogan. He paused, then read it again, before turning sharply to you.

"Big Sister?!" You nodded, grinning.

"Mommy's having a baby!" Emily yelled, pretty sure your neighbours knew now!

"You're pregnant?!" He moved over to you and placed a hand over your belly - no bump yet, but it still made you glow inside.

"Six weeks. Found out yesterday, wanted to surprise you..." He lifted you off the floor and kissed you, before reaching for Emily and pulling her into the hug. You felt safe, secure, and most importantly, loved.

And now with baby Murphy on the way, your family would be complete.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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lilxberry · 4 years ago

Text

The Glitch: Chapter Two

Synopsis;

Wanda certainly had attracted the newest Avenger. Y/N’s usual overconfident façade seems to easily drop when around the Sokovian witch.

Warnings: Language. I think that’s pretty much it for now, unless you wanna be warned about hella sarcasm and snarky remarks too lmao

Words: 1,010

Pairing: Avengers x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader (later chapters)

(A/N: For future knowledge, chapters will be kept under 3000 words)

< CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 3 >

--- flashback ---

‘Man, those assholes were ANNOYING.’

Y/N stretched her arms above her head, groaning slightly, cracking her back, working out the painful kinks that developed from the whole bank fiasco.

She had rid herself of her jacket as she moved further into her apartment. “And what do I feel like having today?” She questioned herself aloud, swinging the fridge door open to scour the selves for food.

She huffed and straightened her back, slamming the fridge door shut with her hip before proceeding to search the freezer instead.

“Bingo!” She reached in quickly and retrieved the piece of frozen plaice she got a few days ago from the store, smiling victoriously.

Preheating the oven and setting the piece of fish on to a cooking tray, she places the tray with the fish into the crematorium for food before getting herself the box wine from the kitchen and heading over to couch.

Kicking her shoes off, she swings her legs up on to the couch, sprawling herself along the faux leather seating, afterwards turning on the T.V. and waiting for her food to finish cooking.

_______________

Her meal had finally heated thoroughly, Y/N now had the finishing touches to add.

Setting her plate down upon the dinning table, she seats herself with her meal in front. She picked up a sliced, fresh lemon, squeezing the sour fruit to further add flavour to her fish.

Satisfied, she smiled picking up her knife and fork, ready to devour the plaice before her. She sliced a small bite off, impaled by the fork. She brought it up to her lips, almost shoveling it down her throat when-

‘KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, man.”

Y/N let out an aggravated groan as she threw her utensils back on to the plate with a loud clatter and stood up harshly, chair scraping against the kitchen floor, enough to make her screw her features up and cringe.

She shuffled towards the door. “If you’re girl scouts, try shoving the cookies through the letterbox and I’ll slide the money under the door.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Y/L/N, we aren’t selling cookies.”

She threw the door open and leaned against the door frame, eyeing the man. “Oh boy, I see this lil’ girl scout hit puberty. Sounds like she started smoking too.” She felt humoured at the remark, though his face held no amusement. She noted his attire and quirked an eyebrow. “Listen, patches, I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling so please, fuck off so I can enjoy my dinner. Thanks, BUH-BYE.”

She moved to close the door when he barged into her apartment. “No, you listen, glitch, we have a lot to discuss, whether you like it or not. What happens after our little conversation, is entirely up to you.”

The use of the word ‘glitch’ had made her stiffen, her posture made rigid. His voice held an threating underlining tone as he spoke with authority. All she could do is nod slowly, showing she understood.

“Good. Now, Miss Y/L/N, I’m director Nick Fury of the organisation S.H.E.I.L.D. and I’m here to discuss recruiting you, and your abilities, for the Avengers”.

‘WHAT. THE. FU-’

--- end of flashback ---

_______________

“Pardon my Goddamn French but what the fuck, Fury?” Stark started, shortly followed but Steve muttering ‘language’ under his breath.

“Seriously, you can’t just spring shit like this on us!”

“I believe I can, I will and I have.”

Soon began a shouting match between Nick Fury and the Avengers. Some trying to defuse the tension, some inputting their out thoughts on the sudden matter at hand and others continue to spectate whilst sitting on the couch still.

Y/N rolled her eyes and groaned loudly, gaining the attention of the people in the room. “Listen, C-3P0,” she spoke, gazing pointedly at Tony. “I get this may not be ideal for you and the others but it sure as shit ain’t ideal for me either. First, my trip to the bank went tits up ‘cause some inconsiderate assholes decided to hit it, then patches her interrupts my dinner, now I’m gaining a migraine ‘cause you asshats wanna scream at each other and still, no one has answered the ONLY question I’ve asked.”

Peter could only let out a snicker, trying to hold in his laughter, at her hilarious out-burst as the others stare at her, moths agape.

Tony sent the young teen a look before turning his attention back to Y/N and Fury, letting out a scoff. “Pray tell us, what makes her so special? Why exactly is she here?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., bring up the footage of bank incident today.”

“Yes, director Fury.”

‘What the fuck was that?’ Y/N looked up and around her, searching for the feminine voice that answered the man before turning her attention towards the large screen mounted opposite the large couch.

The T.V. displayed the combat she partook in at the bank against the group of men, the Avengers witnessing the skills and abilities she possesses.

“So that’s how you found out about me, huh?” She glanced towards Fury as she crossed her arms.

“If you didn’t want to be found out, you should have hidden your face better, Y/L/N.”

“Touché.”

Soon, the footage ceased, allowing the team to soak in the new information that they had just been presented with. “So, you’re like a, glitch, or something, right?” Sam turned towards her, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“Something like that, Tweety Pie, yeah.” She retorted back, eliciting a raised eyebrow from him and a snicker from Bucky.

“I like her.” Clint muttered quietly to the Black Widow beside him.

Steve glances at everyone occupying the room before letting his vision focus solely on to the girl. “I guess, welcome to the Avengers, Y/N.” He extends his hand out for her to shake, which she hesitantly grasps in her own, smaller appendage and shaking firmly.

“Now, I have two questions. One, where did that voice earlier come from? And two, where are we on the whole snack thing?”

_______________

So, here’s chapter 2!

I’m still fairly new to writing so this may or may not be shitty (it totally is)

I still haven’t really came to a decision who i would like to pursue as a main love interest but I have decided who I would not like to see:

* Peter Parker. (You) are supposed to be in your early/mid 20′s, possibly even older, and he’s still like 15 so nope

* Bucky Barnes. I kinda don’t want to see Bucky as the main love interest in this as Bucky tends to get a LOT of fan fiction written about him. This brings me on to my next character

* Steve Rogers. I’m not entirely opposed to Steve but like Bucky, he has a load of fiction written about him and I’d like to change it up

* T’challa. Honestly, even before Chadwick’s death, I have felt weird when it comes to romance with the character. I feel like if i write anything beyond a platonic relationship with his character, it would be disrespectful and objectifying. This is my personal reasoning and you do NOT have the agree which is perfectly fine

I’m so open to hear your thoughts and suggestion on this matter as I’m pretty stuck on this decision lmao

I hope you enjoyed. please show me so by hitting that lil’ heart at the bottom of the post my doods

And finally, constructive criticism and requests are welcomes as always and are greatly appreciated :D

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babygirlgalitzine · 4 years ago

Text

we all need time (ao3)

Ever since they got the confirmation of their wedding date, it’s been on every calendar, with a big red circle and at least three exclamation points marking it as important. There’s even been a countdown on their phones, ticking away to the exact time that they would become husbands. Every day since then that passes, is just another day closer to the wedding.

From the moment the confirmation email came through, the planning has been going full steam ahead, and even though it was overwhelming at first, they were soon able to get the hang of it. From then on, it had been a breeze, luckily. There’s been barely any arguments over what flavour of cake to get, or what colour ties to wear. It’s been easy, simple even. It’s almost funny how this is now the second wedding that Callum has been involved in, and yet this time he actually cares enough to plan it, even caring about the table decorations and which song they may want to have their first dance to. It’s such a stark contrast to his first wedding, in every sense. This time, he’s happy. This time, he knows exactly what he wants - and that’s Ben.

Even though they didn’t argue over the little things, there’s always something that goes wrong with every wedding, or causes an argument. For Ben and Callum, that was the seating plan.

The thing is, Ben has a huge family, they both know that. Even with half of his family out of the country, it’s still massive. Even Ben doesn’t know how he’s related to half the people that call themselves his family, and he’s not entirely sure that they know either. He doesn’t want all of his so-called family there either, but he also knows that an argument would probably arise if he neglected to invite certain people, so his best bet was to just invite them to the evening reception. But then when it came to the actual seating plan, Callum had three people to put on it.

Three.

And only one of those three are his actual, blood related family.

Ben saw how much that had upset Callum, seeing everything put into perspective, seeing how many people would be there for Ben, and how little would be there for Callum. So Ben hatched a plan to find Callum’s mum.

His first port of call was Stuart, who had told Ben that Callum wouldn’t even remember her, but eventually had told him where he last knew her to be staying. It ended up being another week or two until Ben managed to track her down, and even then he didn’t know what to say. He just wrote a letter, explaining who he was, and how Callum wants family at his wedding. He left it in a letterbox, half the envelope still hanging out, just in case he decided against it and went back to pull it out, but by the time he was reversing away in his car, the edge of the envelope was gone from sight.

It’s two weeks and three days now until the wedding, and Callum’s job for the day is making sure that all the things for the table decorations have finally arrived. Ben’s out working unexpectedly, needing to go and deliver a car just over an hour away, so Callum’s downstairs on the sofa with a list on the coffee table and the decorations all over the floor. The wedding playlist is playing out of his phone, and he’s content. He’s just about to tick off the first lot of items when there’s a knock at the door. He sighs and puts the pen down, turning the music off before he stands up with a crick of his knees and walks towards the door.

“If you’ve forgotten your keys again I’ll glue them to your han-” Callum opens the door and finds a woman standing outside. She looks upset, nervous even. “Are you ok?” Callum asks thoughtfully, because it’s Callum.

The woman lets out a soft chuckle, her eyes never leaving Callum’s. He sees something familiar in her, but he’s not sure what. “Well I was expecting you to be taller than the last time I saw you, but not quite this tall!”

It’s as though his life almost flashes before his eyes, a million memories from his childhood coming back all in one big rush. He knows exactly who she is then. “M-mum?” He stutters out, his heart racing.It’s only a moment or two, such a short span of time, but he goes through so many emotions all at once - shock, anger, hatred.

“Are you gonna invite me in then?” She asks as if butter wouldn’t melt, as if she hadn’t left him one day, just walked out and never came back home.

Callum doesn’t have it in him to respond verbally, he just moves to the side, holding the door open for her. He watches as she walks into his home, and it’s something that he’s always thought of happening, but also has always known that it was stupid to even think about.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, shutting the door behind them. There’s something in his voice, a shakiness. Nerves. “How did you even find me?”

She sits down - his mum sits down - and the first thing she sees is a photo on the side, one of Ben, Callum and Lexi, taken on a day out at the beach. “Nice family set up I see.” She comments, nodding towards the photo frame.

A chill goes down Callum’s spine, worried and fearful because she doesn’t know him, not anymore. She doesn’t know who he is or what he’s been through or how he’s come out of the other side. His previous coming out to a parent didn’t exactly go to plan, and he doesn’t have the strength to go through all of that again, not now.

“I got a letter through my door the other day.” She states. “Someone called Ben? Is that him?”

Callum smiles to himself at the mention of Ben, though he’s still full of nerves. He nods. “So you know?”

“The wedding?” She asks. “Yeah. Apparently he’d spoken to your brother, and then did a bit of digging and found me. Wanted to ask if I would come to the wedding. Can’t imagine it’s gone down well with your father.”

Callum shrugs. “He’s nothin’ to me anymore. Never really has been. I’ve got my family now.”

There’s a quiet intake of breath, but she knows she deserves that. “So I’ve got a granddaughter. What’s her name?”

“Lexi. She’s Ben’s through and through.” Callum says, because it’s true. She’s getting his cheeky side more and more everyday.

“I remember when you were that little.” His mum reminisces, though the moment’s soon broken up by Callum’s loud scoff.

He looks her straight in the eyes and speaks. “I was younger than Lex when you walked out.” He deadpans. “You just left! You walked out and never came back. You know, I used to sit up at night, listening to Jonno drinking himself half to death, hitting Stu so he didn’t come and hit me, begging for you to come back and save us. But you never did.”

A tear falls down Callum’s cheek, staining his skin momentarily before he wipes it away. He’s never told anyone that before.

“I never wanted to leave you boys with him. I was trying to get away, find somewhere for us to live, and when I came back to get you both, the house was boarded up, you’d moved somewhere else and nobody would tell me where.” Her emotions get the better of her and she starts to shed tears too, wiping them away with the sleeve of her cardigan. “After that, I couldn’t find you. I didn’t even know where to start, you could’ve been anywhere, and then the longer it went on, the more I started to think that you didn’t need me anymore.”

Callum looks up to the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that his head starts to go light, and he sees patterns swirling in the darkness. “I still needed you! I always have done!”

“I’m here now Callum.” She says, and Callum knows that she means that. He can hear the honesty in her voice. “I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

#ballum #ben x callum #chweek2021 #callumhighwayweek2021 #myfic

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direwolf-summer · 4 years ago

Note

Since I have a thing for French speaking Sirius too, how about "Every time he/she/they speaks French I lose it. And when I say lose, I mean mainly my pants."? 😊😉

So I’m gonna cheat and translate a snippet from my own Chinese fic Wingman, because I posted my first ever English wolfstar fic today and I’m still giddy from all the positive responses I received. Some people wrote one(1) fic in English and they won’t shut up about it.

Remus hated mornings.

Sirius knew that Remus hated mornings, which was why he loved mornings to bits.

He had already finished his morning run, purchased the breakfast from a ridiculously posh (and ridiculously expensive) café on his way home, helped an elder lady push her trolley, and fetched a letter from the highest letterbox for the neighbour. Dorcas’s flower shop had just opened and Marlene wasn’t in, so Sirius stole a rose.

He opened the door to the apartment that he shared with James, where James was sipping a cup of tea against the kitchen counter. Today James was wearing the T-shirt with Teletubbies – his favourite – and was holding the tea cup with a prancing deer on it in one hand while scrolling through the news on his phone in the other. He looked up distractedly when Sirius came in, and, seeing the lovely face of his darling friend, raised one eyebrow very, very suggestively. Before James could open his filthy fat mouth, though, Sirius pre-empted and mimicked the action of zipping the lips.

“Next time, remember to put a sock on the doorknob at least,” said James, feigning serious.

“Yeah yeah whatever you say mum,” Sirius strode through the living room without looking back. He didn’t need to see with his own eyes to know what James’s expression would be. So he went straight into his bedroom and, with one fluid motion, threw open all the curtains. On his bed, a fortress of blankets cursed indistinctively.

“Rise and shine, my favourite Moonshine!” Sirius said brightly. “I bought croissant and just the kind of pain au chocolat you like,” He took everything out from the shopping bag as he was saying and put them on the desk, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet because he was too excited to stand still. “And if you get up now your café au lait will still be warm.”

“You are such an angel,” his blankets murmured. Of course, it was very hard to figure out with all the blankets, so it might be “You are going to die very soon” as well.

Sirius couldn’t smile any wider. He turned to look at his bed expectantly. Oh if only he had tails! He would wag it, for sure.

A head poked out between the pillow and the blankets, the murdering glare in their eyes far less potent because of the sleepiness. “Why do some people rise early to find themselves against the walls?” Remus feigned contemplation. “Oh, because they rise early!”

“Well I am a dog,” Sirius shrugged and threw back Remus’s own words from last night. “I need to be walked in the morning.” He shrugged and promptly jumped on Remus, who emitted an adorable sound from all the air being squeezed out of his lungs. Sirius lifted himself up a little to rest on his elbows.

“So, do you want to have breakfast with me, Monsieur Lunard?”

Remus sighed in desperation. Whether this desperation was out of an utter disbelief at the morning birds, or an inexplicable arousal at the French nickname, Remus wouldn’t tell you even if you point a gun at his forehead. Amazing, wasn’t it, what a foreign language could do to some boys’ pants.

Remus glared at the stupid face bobbing in front of him. There were still some morning dews clinging to Sirius’s leather jacket, and he smelled like cigarette and cedarwood. His ridiculous eyelashes was impossibly close.

God, please punish me if I have sinned, Remus closed his eyes and did his morning confession. Rather than making me see this at this godforsaken early hour.

“Go on.” He said without opening his eyes.

“Go on what?”

“Whatever. Speak to me in French.”

“Ah! Tatie, ton thé t’a-t-il ôté ta toux, disait la tortue au tatou. Mais pas du tout, dit le tatou, je tousse tant que l’on m’entend de Tahiti à Tombouctou.”

Remus giggled. “You are just repeating the rude words, aren’t you.”

Sirius snorted but forgave his ignorance. “Alors un chasseur sachant chasser doit savoir chasser sans son chien de chasse.”

“This can’t be real French.”

Sirius singsonged. “Cette grande faveur que votre cœur réclame, Nuit à ma renommée et répugne mon âme.”

“Stop.”

- FIN -

For those of your who don’t trust Google Translate:

All the phrases in italics are French. I believe I don’t need to explain croissant and pain au chocolat to you, but I like to point out that Sirius pronounced them in the French way. Lunard is how they translated Moony in French. Also, near the ending Sirius was doing tongue twisters with the first and the second one, and quoted George Sand in the last.

“Auntie, does your tea cure your cough? The turtle asked the armadillo. Not at all, said the armadillo. The sound of my cough can be heard from Tahiti to Timbuktu.” (I need you guys to imagine Sirius’s story voice in saying this)

“A hunter knows how to hunt without his hunting dog.”

“This great fervor that your heart claimed, harmed my reputation and disgusted my soul.”

The interesting thing about this quote of George Sand’s, is that it’s a reply to Musset’s acrostic poem, which you should read only the first word of each line. So after de-coding:

Quand voulez-vous que je couche avec vous? (When do you want me to sleep with you)

Cette Nuit. (Tonight)

You see what Sirius did here? Cette nuit, it’s both a promise and a threat from Sirius 🥰

#this is the reason I learn French #to make Sirius serenade Remus in French #I don’t know whether my French teacher will be proud of me #but I’m quite proud of myself #alexis: who is this helpful Sirius? some kind of elf?#me: yeah remus’s house elf 😌

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starrswife · 4 years ago

Text

What Goes On - Ringo x Reader

Friends from childhood, an unlikely pair of Liverpudlians face the challenges of growing up.

Thank you @moodysunflowergirl for beta-reading this chapter and being so kind to me.

I hope you all enjoy this series!

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - none

Chapter Summary - November, 1957, Y/n decides to concentrate on schoolwork, but a bored and restless Richard has other plans.

“Doncha half to get back to work soon?” Y/n attempted to ask, mouth full.

Everyday since Richard had dropped out of school, he bought her a pastry from the local bakery and walked her home during his lunch break. At first, the baked good had served as reparations for what Y/n said was, quote, “Abandoning me all alone in hell,” but the tradition continued to stick.

“Nah, my boss let me off early,” he walked backwards to face her, “What do ya’ wanna do? My whole day’s cleared.”

Chewing her last bite, she brushed off her hands of any crumbs. Rich gestured for her to take back the schoolbag she forced him to carry, despite knowing she would just shake her head and make him hold it for the entire walk.

“I’ve got to study, I’m sorry.”

“Again? But you’ve been at it the entire week,” he complained.

“College is a lot more difficult than our old school, Rich. But I’ll go over to yours, if you’d like. Maybe… say, tutor you a bit?”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the right way.

“Don’t waste your energy trying.”

She huffed, “Fine, be illiterate your entire life.”

“I’m not illiterate.”

“You can hardly spell.”

“Well, I can read.”

“Oh, lovely, at seventeen years old, you’ve got at least half of it down.”

“Lay off you prick.”

Richard made a move to shove Y/n, but she dodged it, taking off down the sidewalk.

Accepting the stupidly immature challenge, he wasted no time chasing after her.

They maneuvered through pram-pushers who gave them a friendly nod, and business men who scowled at the very sight of their smiling faces.

The icy air felt like blades against her skin as she ran, but with Richie gaining on her, she only sped up the pace. Like usual Liverpool weather, the sky kept at a gloomy grey, and the cobble walkways were darker in color, dampened by the previous night’s rain.

Y/n hopped over the puddles, not wanting to get her oxfords dirty, but Richie couldn’t bring himself to care, charging straight through them.

Reaching their turn and not wanting to give up, Y/n sprinted across the road, Rich following close behind. They screamed out of both fear and amusement when cars honked at them, or shouted, expressing their vexation.

“No!” Y/n yelled, glancing backwards. She tried to speed up, but it was too late. Richard grabbed her arm and pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her from escaping. They struggled to catch their breath, each puff coming out as white clouds, that faded into the air. It proved difficult to do so, while simultaneously in a fit of laughter.

“Let me go!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!” Y/n wriggled around in his grip, but to no avail.

“I won’t until you admit what a loser you are.”

Rich laughed, a high pitched and boyish sound that always evoked a smile from Y/n, even while she was mumbling about how much of an arse he was.

Eventually tiring out, she went limp, fully defeated.

“You give up? Say it.”

“I give up.”

“And what?”

“You win, and I’m a loser! Now get off of me.”

He obliged with a grin of triumph then stepped away, and immediately, the winter air chilled her spine as if a blanket had been ripped off of her.

Was it odd to want the warmth back? To want him to pull her closer?

She walked a bit farther away from him, deciding it was odd.

They fell into comfortable silence, enjoying their peaceful stroll as they usually did when not bantering. As the town led further into Richie’s neighborhood, the houses became more and more decrepit, tiny lots with peeling paint and splintered door frames. Abundant rubble, sad reminders of the war, had become playgrounds for imaginative schoolboys. They had grown used to these surroundings, and now, reaching 10 Admiral Grove, the dirt coated bricks and rusty letterbox had become a warm, familiar welcome.

They hung up their coats and headed up the creaky, narrow stairs to his room.

Rich slung her bag onto the bed and sighed in relief. The amount of textbooks she had to haul around made him glad he’d dropped out.

Y/n sat at the foot of the bed, grabbing her bag and pulling out a few of them.

“Mind if I practice a bit?” Richie asked, already walking towards his drums. His stepdad, Harry, had recently bought him his very own set, and he had become a menace, constantly playing, even into late hours of the night.

She groaned. She loved his drumming, really, but it wasn’t the best background noise for calculus homework. Still, she nodded for him to go ahead.

An hour passed, and Richie was now lying on the floor, twirling his drumsticks. One slipped and smacked him on the face, and he glanced up at Y/n to make sure she didn’t see that. Luckily, she was laying on his bed, fully absorbed in her history notes.

Another hour gone. Richie put on a record and cranked up the volume. Y/n made him turn it down. He resorted to making tea.

Sixty minutes later. His half-drunk tea had gotten cold and now sat solitary on his table. He was laying beside Y/n, flipping through her books and giggling about the human anatomy photos.

By six in the evening, Richard had grown fidgety and impatient.

“Y/n.”

No reply.

“Y/n.”

Nothing.

“Fine. I’ll just take a nap.”

He laid back and sprawled his limbs about the bed, making a point to bother her. With his leg over her back and an arm balanced on her head, she finally snapped at him in irritation.

“What do you want?”

He stared directly at her for a moment, then shut his eyes and pretended to snore.

Y/n pushed him off of her and grabbed a pillow to try to suffocate him.

“Someone help!”

He dramatically writhed around before going limp like a corpse.

Slowly, she lifted the pillow up, peering behind it to see his face, eyes shut with his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

He snatched the pillow from her and pushed her over with it.

She screamed, stifling her laughs and curling into a ball as Rich whacked her with it, her schoolwork spilling off the bed.

“I hate you,” she stated as he flopped backwards, both out of breath.

“Aww,” he cooed mockingly. She threw the pillow at him and got up to retrieve the things from the floor. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s been hours, Y/n. It’s Friday night. Let’s go do something.”

“I look horrible, I don’t want to go out.”

“No you don’t, you always look nice. Can we go, please, please, please, plea-“

“Ok, fine! Let me get ready, will you?”

Like a puppy, Richie sat on the edge of the bed, watching Y/n intently as she stood in front of the mirror, trying her best to brush her wind-tousled hair with his comb. She readjusted her black headband, making sure her bangs were out to frame her face. Once finished, she grabbed a tube of rosy lipstick from her bag, and dotted just a bit on before rubbing her lips together to blend it.

It had to look natural.

Her mother had once told her she looked like a hooker for wearing full coverage makeup, and for some strange reason, she felt uncomfortable doing anything remotely feminine around her father. Even when they weren’t near, the need to appease them stuck.

She turned around, “How do I look?”

“Like a square,” he teased.

Y/n glared, and he was quick to reword his statement.

“A pretty square!”

The gusty, evening air was as cold as ever, and the two of them stuffed their hands in their pockets, trying to somehow shrink themselves into the warmth of their coats.

“What did you do at work today?” Y/n asked, shivering.

“Uhm, we really just fooled around. Roy, Eddie, and me.”

“Ah, I gotta see the Eddie Miles band in action one day.” “Actually, we renamed ourselves Eddie Clayton and the Clayton Squares. We might pick up some gigs soon, I don’t know, hopefully.”

“Oh, that’d be fab. I’ll be there for every one of your shows,” she looked up to meet his eye, “I promise.”

Richie smiled. It was small, but sincere and warm. He held her gaze just a bit longer, admiring how she looked under the yellow glow of the lampposts. The tip of her nose was pink from the cold, and the way she looked all bundled up was so... so... adorable.

He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Thanks.”

They got on the bus to Garston, and as it was Y/n’s turn to pay the driver, she caught up to Rich when she was finished.

Even if the bus was completely vacant, the two ran up to sit on the second floor, racing to get there before it started driving again. It was just another one of their antics.

Finally arriving at Wilson Hall, the two took off their coats and followed the crowd to the dance floor. On stage was a group of rough-looking boys, playing as loud as they could with their makeshift instruments. The audience nearly matched the volume, laughing and hollering as they spun about.

“Well, c’mon then,” Richie grinned, reaching out to grab her hands.

She giggled bashfully as he twirled her, and after a bit, loosened up until the both of them were twisting wildly as if their life depended on it. Richard’s slicked back curls bobbed as he stepped, and Y/n’s circle skirt swayed proudly with her hips.

It was crowded, hot, and stuffy, but while dancing, no one seemed to care. It was electrifying, freeing, and for once they were able to forget about their hardships and stresses.

The song came to an end and the crowd gave an applause, eagerly awaiting for the next band to come on.

“I’m going for a coke, d’you want anything?”

Y/n shook her head, “I’m okay, I’ll wait here.”

Rich nodded and squeezed his way through to the bar.

She stood alone, fiddling with her fingers as the next band started and the couples began to dance.

The music now was more jazz than rock or skiffle, and everyone was paired up, swinging each other around and leaving Y/n to stick out like a sore thumb.

Looking over the room, she thought about how much better the other girls looked than her. Their dresses were sleeveless, their faces glowing with expertly done makeup, and their hair somehow curled perfectly at the ends.

She tugged off her cardigan. Would that help? It didn’t show any skin -her button down blouse preventing it- but at least it took a layer off. She glanced down at herself. Were her boobs not big enough? Nah, they were an all-right size for her age, but maybe just a little bigger would be-

“You alright, miss?”

She gasped, snapping her eyes up from her chest.

There, towering over her, was a man with Elvis-esque hair, a fitted leather jacket, and a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked older, perhaps in his early twenties, and he… just wow.

Y/n was taken aback.

“I-I’m alright.”

“How come a pretty girl like you doesn’t have a partner?”

“Oh, uh, thank you. I’m actually waiting for someone to get back, he just,” Y/n awkwardly gestured behind her, lost for words.

“Mind if I keep you company until then?”

He offered his hand to dance, and with a hesitant nod, she accepted.

The trip home was almost silent.

Y/n vaguely addressed why she was gone the whole night, and Richard said it was okay.

After a bit of a search, he’d realized she was with another guy and went off to dance with the other birds too. However, he didn’t know how things had… escalated with her and the man.

He asked if she would step out with him. He was mysterious and suave, and it was exhilarating. How could she say no? But when the nameless man pressed her against the brick alley, hands caressing her hips and waist, a sudden tsunami of uncertainty and panic crashed against her. He was nearing her lips, but the once sensual closeness had become suffocating- she couldn’t do this!

“Y/n, love?”

She blinked out of it.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been staring at the wall.”

Spewing the words before she could think them through, Y/n deadpanned, “Teach me how to kiss.”

#ringo starr x reader #ringo starr #the beatles #beatles x reader

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games-und-lyrik · 1 year ago

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The Meaning of Christmas

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years ago

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Aligned- Chapter Four.

Hello my lovelies! Sorry it’s been such a long time since I last posted anything. I’ve recently began teacher training, and my schedule is pretty chock block. But don’t worry, I'll still be posting here as often as I can x

There will be another two chapters of Alinged left, before I finish this series. I’m so sad about it!

Masterlist

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Tags: @i-love-you-green @lilianaswhatever @unrulyhealy @buckyboobear @between---the-bars @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @starkgaryan @labyrinth-of-thoughts @beaushelby @stupiddarkside @covenforlilfangirl @porcelainjokersmadness @namelesslosers @a-dorky-book-keeper @thetrappednerd @ayeayecaptaingally @ladymelissastark

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message!x

Warnings: Swearing.

You return to Small Heath. But are you alone?

It was scary how easily you had settled into a routine over the past few months. Ignoring Tommy was difficult at first, the butterflies continuing to take flight within your stomach every time you saw him. You had often found yourself lying awake during another sleepless night, apprehensive of what your future in Small Heath would hold. You had decided that it was for the best if you gave up your job role in The Garrison, and luckily Ada had helped you find a small flat on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t much, but it was your own.

It wasn’t long until you found love, in the form of a dock-worker named Jacob. He was six feet tall, with ash blonde hair that often fell into his eyes. His eyes never held any hint of hatred, or anger. He had always been gentle towards you, affectionate even. He was everything Tommy never was. That was the difficulty.

He wasn’t Tommy.

You had been successful in your attempts in avoiding The Garrison, rejecting every offer for a drink until they became few and far between. You couldn’t bring yourself to risk bumping into the two people you had no desire to see, afraid of the hurt it would no doubt bring you. You had spent far too long trying to build yourself back up, to risk crumbling again. As a result, you had sadly fallen out with those that you had considered friends. You missed the jokes you and Arthur had often shared, and the long debates that took place between you and Ada. Despite all your best efforts in avoiding the building, you had now found yourself no longer able to do so.

A letter had fallen through your letterbox a few mornings ago, containing devastating news. Adas’ husband, Freddie Thorne, had sadly passed away. Your heart had stung as you read the letter, containing details about his upcoming funeral. You knew that you could not avoid this, your desire to be there for one of your closest friends during her time of hardship overwhelming. You felt guilty at having been pushing away Ada over the past few months, longing to see her again.

You currently stood frozen outside The Garrison, your eyes nervously scanning the exterior of the building you were once familiar with. It hadn’t changed during the time you had been away. You could still recall every barrel placed outside, the familiar cracks in the discoloured brickwork. You hated the waves of anxiety that had suddenly started to crash through you, clenching your fists in an attempt to prevent your hands from shaking. Your saliva was thick in your mouth, your throat tightening with undeniable fear.

“You okay love?” Jacob whispered softly, his breath coming out of his mouth like small clouds. It was far too cold for you both to be stood outside for this length of time, you knew that, yet your legs seemed incapable of moving you any further.

“I’m alright” you responded, the lie slipping easily from between your lips. Although he was aware you used to be employed at The Garrison, you hadn’t told Jacob about your past. He didn’t know about you and Tommy. You never felt any desire to divulge too deeply into your personal history, and as a result you had woven together a set of lies to satisfy him.

You felt Jacob tug slightly at your arm, beginning to lead you towards the entrance. You hated the way he touched you, the loving contact making you feel smothered. You wished you could shake off every embrace, every kiss he placed upon your lips. You knew that you should have felt lucky, being with Jacob. Several women in Small Heath would have jumped at the chance of being seen upon his arm, but he made your skin crawl.

He wasn’t Tommy.

Jacob pushed open the doors, leading you inside. At first, the noise inside was almost deafening. A mixture of conversations all seemed to merge into one, thunderous racket before abruptly melting into an uncomfortable silence. Every single pair of eyes was directed upon you, some belonging to strangers, others belonging to those you once called friends. You swallowed hard, never meeting a pair of eyes for more than a split second. Your mind toyed with the idea of turning around and walking out. It would have been the easier option, and perhaps the most sensible.

Then you saw Ada, stood in the corner of the bar, dressed in all black, and you knew you couldn’t leave. You could see the smudges of mascara faintly staining her cheeks, her skin pale and blotchy from crying. Her eyes turned to meet yours, widening slightly in shock, before she walked over to meet you. Ada flung her arms around you, enveloping you into a hug. The scent of her perfume wafted over you, closing your eyes as memories flooded back through you. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. You had been wrong in ignoring Ada too. You heard Jacob walk towards the bar, giving you and Ada some privacy. Noise erupted around you both, cocooning you in your own little reunion.

“I missed you” you whispered softly, before she pulled away and held you at arm’s length. Her light blue eyes scanned over your appearance, a small hint of worry creasing between her brows.

“I’ve missed you too. We’ve all missed you” she murmured softly, before she hooked her arm through yours, leading you towards The Shelbys’ private room. Your heart stopped for a brief moment, at the potential of seeing Tommy again. Your mouth began to dry with anxiety, your mind at a loss of what to say. You didn’t have enough time to fully comprehend the idea, before Ada had kicked the door open with a soft nudge.

Your eyes frantically took in your surroundings, scanning over the people who were sat around the table. You hadn’t realised you had held your breath in nervous anticipation, before you felt air escape harshly from your lungs. You hated to admit the way your heart sunk, as you came to the realisation that he wasn’t there.

Tommy wasn’t there.

“Well bloody hell!” Arthur roared, jumping up to greet you. A few bottles fell down upon the table in protest, as he knocked it slightly with his knees. You chuckled softly, feeling his arms squeeze around you tightly. “Almost forgot what you looked like girl!”

“It hasn’t been that long Arthur, stop exaggerating!” you chuckled softly, placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek, his stubbles softly tickling your chin, before you both pulled away.

You hugged each of the Shelby family in turn, each one reminding you why you should never have left, before you lowered yourself into the chair beside Ada. The desired topic of conversation hung heavy in the air, making the room seem almost thick with anticipation. You knew what you wanted to ask, the question poised at the tip of your tongue.

“She’s gone” Pol answered your silent inquiry, her eyes boring into yours. You could sense the fire and anger thick within her voice. “And she certainly won’t be coming back”. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, the mood in the room noticeably shifting.

“She was a spy. For Campbell” John grunted from the corner of the room, abruptly breaking the tense silence that had settled between you all. The short amount of words John said, spoke volumes. You felt the colour flood from your cheeks, your heart silently breaking, fearing how Tommy would have taken it.

“How is he? Tommy?” you asked softly, inwardly cursing yourself at the way your voice broke with emotion. The flicker in Pols’ eyes verified that she had heard you, as she shifted slightly in her seat.

“He’s coping. Not the same without you though” she answered softly, lightly placing her hand upon yours. You smiled slightly, your eyes flickering down towards the table.

“(Y/N)?” a familiar whisper sounded out from behind you. Your heart collided with your ribcage as the voice floated up to your ears. You turned to face him, unable to stop the tears that began to sting at your eyes. You hated your bodies almost automatic response at the sight of him, your mind unable to forget the countless hours you two had spent together.

Tommy stood in the doorway, almost dumbfounded at the sight of you. You knew you had eight eyes trained upon you both, watching your reunion unfold in front of them. You had so many words you had wanted to say to him, having spent countless nights lying awake planning on what to say if you were to ever lay eyes on him again. Yet now you had been given the chance too, they all seemed to disappear within your mouth. You began to stand up slowly, your eyes never leaving Tommy’s.

“I hope red wine is alright for you babe. Didn’t think whiskey was your thing” Jacob announced from behind Tommy, pushing past him slightly as he brought in your drinks. You blinked several times, breaking your eye contact with Tommy as you realised that your boyfriend was now entering the room. You smiled slightly, reaching out to grab the glass of wine from him, your heart sinking at the fact your moment with him had been interrupted.

“Guys. Meet Jacob. My boyfriend” you muttered the announced to the room, hating the way the words sounded as they fell out from between your lips. It wasn’t Jacob’s name you should be saying. It was the dark-haired man standing in front of you, that held your heart.

“Tommy Shelby” his voice sounded like poison, as he shook Jacobs’ spare hand. His glacier blue eyes burned holes into the man, devoid of all human emotion. His movements seemed robotic, as he began to place up the walls around him. You noticed his knuckles whiten, as they gripped Jacob’s hand tighter for a brief second, before pulling away. He turned around, announcing to the room before he left.

“Word of advice mate. She is a whiskey drinker”.

#Peaky Blinders #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc

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mycupoffanfiction · 5 years ago

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A Real Sweet Guy Part 3

A biker!Bucky x shy!Reader Series

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The reader lives on the same street as Bucky, the leader of a biker gang, which everyone in her building is afraid of, except for her. When Bucky makes a simple act of kidness to the reader, she realises she was right to not be afraid of him.

Warnings: None - just fluff and Gladys.

Word count: Approx 2700

Masterlist

Part 3 is here! I’m already working on part 4, I am so in love with writing this series! Let me know what you think and if you want to be on the tag list 💕

____________________________

Walking back from a trip to the store for a few ingredients, you pause when you see the newspaper on Bucky’s driveway. You know it’s Gladys’ doing. Rushing across the street, you scoop the paper up and take it indoors with you. When you get up to your apartment you drop your shopping bag and grab a marker, writing in all caps across the paper, STOP THROWING PAPERS AT BUCKY. You go into the hall and push it through Gladys’ letter box and let out a satisfied hum before going about your day.

You were knee deep in cooking when a sharp rapping at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You set down your wooden spoon, wiping your floury hands on your apron and you move to the door, peering through the peephole. You groan out loud and pull open the door. You’re met with a newspaper to the face and you look across at Gladys, very unamused. “Don’t you have anything better to do than assault people with newspapers?” You scoff, kicking the paper out of the way and slamming the door shut before she could argue so you could continue baking.

It was several hours later and you hopped off the rickety old bus with a large worn biscuit tin clutched in both hands. You walk around the corner until you see the obnoxiously sized sign for Roger’s Repair Shop. Walking up the driveway, you approach the garage, the front was completely open and Bucky looked up from his work when he heard your footsteps on the gravel and shot you a gorgeous smile. He was wearing a grey flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his usual roughed up jeans and boots. It’s at that moment that you realise Bucky has a tattoo on his right arm and you make a mental note to ask him about it later. You saw Steve look at you through the window of the office and turn away. “Bucky, your girlfriend is here!” Steve shouted and you see Bucky heave a sigh and hang his head low.

Giggling, you approach with a big smile on your face. Bucky stands up and walks towards you, wiping grease from his hands with a rag he tucked in his back pocket. “Hey, doll.” Bucky greeted you, pulling you in for a one armed hug. “Hi Bucky.” You were brimming with excitement as you held your tin tightly to your chest. Steve stepped out of the office, you knew who he was, you’d just never met him before. “You must be (Y/n), I’m Steve.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand to shake. “It’s good to finally meet you Steve.” You beam up at him, shaking his hand gently. “I made you guys some cookies.” You smile, handing Bucky the box. “They’re mostly for you, but also everyone else.” You blush, looking down awkwardly. Both men chuckle and Bucky squeezes you around the middle again. “Thanks, doll, that’s real kind of you.” Bucky lets go and opens the tin, a look of bliss on his face when he breathes in the cookie smell. Steve steps away to finish up his work as you watch Bucky’s reaction to your cookies.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Bucky asks. “Sweetheart?” You hear Steve pipe up in the background as he’s working on something. You stifle a giggle and lock eyes with Bucky. “It was good, although Gladys smacked me in the face with a newspaper.” You rub the back of your neck while Bucky turns to put the tin down on a work bench. “She what?” Bucky frowns, turning to look at you. “Why’d she do that to you? You’re the sweetest person around.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, he was far more concerned about this than you thought he would be. “I kind of posted the newspaper she threw at you into her letterbox with a note to tell her to stop throwing them at you.” You looked down at your feet nervously. “You stick up for me more than you should, sweetheart. Still doesn’t warrant a newspaper in the face, though. That’s just rude. Even I don’t get one to the face, usually hits me in the chest.” Bucky grumbled. What does he mean far more than you should? You would stick up for him every day if you had to, even if that meant a torrent of newspaper abuse from Gladys. “That old lady attacks you too?” Steve inserts himself into the conversation. “Apparently so. She lives opposite (Y/n).” Bucky answers for you. “I can understand Bucky, but you?” Steve jabs at him, receiving a cold glare from Bucky. “Let’s not worry about that crazy old lady.” You wave your hand and watch as Bucky dips his hand into the tin of cookies, taking and bite and humming with content. “No, no, I’m going to tell Gladys off. I didn’t want to when she was throwing them at me because I didn’t want her to be more inclined to attack me, but if she does it to you again, I’ll use the intimidation card on her.” Bucky tried to sound as serious as possible with a mouthful of cookie. Steve tries to hold back his chuckle and hides his obvious amusement by shoving a cookie in his mouth. “And how do you plan on intimidating her?” You ask, smiling up at him. “I mean, it’s not like I have to try very hard, me just looking at her makes her look petrified.” Bucky scoffs. “I’m surprised she has the guts to throw her newspaper at you, Buck.” Steve pats him on the shoulder.

You sit by Bucky as he works on a car engine and you observe the way he expertly handles everything. His metal hand seems to have excellent precision and you start to wonder if he takes advantage of that in his every day life. You watch, mesmerised as he gets up to move and the plates in his arm shift and whir. He flexes his hand and you enjoy the way all the metal joints move smoothly against each other. You look down at his right arm and try to catch a glimpse of the tattoo he has there but Bucky turns so you can’t see it. “(Y/n).” Bucky’s voice suddenly distracts you from your thoughts and your attention is brought back to him. Fuck, you did it again. You really need to stop zoning out and letting him catch you, especially when you zone out staring at Bucky. “You seem awfully distracted.” He smirks, looking down at his metal arm, twisting it slightly so the overhead light glints on the smooth metal. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t stare.” You mumble out, god why did you have to be so awkward? Bucky chuckles to himself as he wipes the grease off his hands again. “Don’t worry about it doll, I know you’re just curious.” He doesn’t seem to mind one bit that you’ve just blatantly stared at his arm and you feel the warmth in your chest when you realise how much he must really trust you to know you mean well and to voluntarily have his arm on show when you’re around. “Actually, I was curious about your tattoo.” You point to his right arm and Bucky looks at you with slight surprise.

Pulling up his sleeve past his elbow, he approaches you so you can have a look. “I have more than just this sleeve, but that would require me to take off my shirt.” He chuckles. “It’s beautiful.” You comment, running your fingers over the beautiful artwork running up his arm. “You got any?” He asks, smiling cheekily, he knows the answer to that question though. “No, I’ve considered it though.” You giggle. “What would you get?” Bucky asks. “No idea, I feel like if I got one, it would be an impulsive decision on something that means a lot to me.” You look up at him. “Like a cup of coffee?” He jokes, nudging you and you both laugh. “I meant something more symbolic.” You giggle. “Coffee isn’t symbolic to you?” Bucky backs away and smirks and you shake your head affectionately.

“It’s time for a break,” He pauses, stretching out his back and moving his neck from side to side. “Coffee?” He asks, looking at you with hopeful eyes. It wasn’t like he had to ask twice. “Maybe I can have more of those delicious cookies of yours.” He winks at you before he grabs your hand in his metal one and pulls you off your seat.

Entering the office, Steve sits with his feet up on the desk, munching on one of your cookies while he lazily writes on a notepad. Steve looks down as Bucky brings you over to the coffee machine and looks at the two of you holding hands. You notice his gaze and your cheeks suddenly heat up with a blush. “Not your girlfriend, huh?” Steve tries to contain his smile when Bucky turns to face him with a glare, immediately letting go of your hand. You look out of the window and see a girl with long brown, slightly ginger hair walking across the compound towards the garage and she locks eyes with you, shooting you a smile. You smile back and wonder who she is. From her clothing alone, she looks like she might be one of Bucky’s biker friends. She wore a red leather jacket with a simple black top, jeans and boots and was carrying a red helmet in her hand down at her side. “Huh, Wanda’s back.” Steve follows your line of sight and pushes away from the desk, dropping the notebook down and getting up.

“Thanks for the coffee.” You smile up at Bucky as you take the mug from him. “You don’t have to thank me every time, sweetheart.” He speaks quietly. You beam up at him and he gives you his lopsided smile. You look out of the window again to see Steve practically throw himself at Wanda, picking her up and pulling her about in his excited embrace. “They a thing?” You ask, pointing out the window. “Nah, the punk denies it, but I know he’s sweet on Wanda.” Bucky laughs, grabbing his own coffee and you make your way out of the office.

“So you’re (Y/n).” Wanda walks up to you, completely ignoring Steve as he trails along behind her. “I’m Wanda, it’s so nice to put a face to the name.” She says, a certain confidence about her makes you feel at ease and you shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Wanda.” You smile, still a little shy. “Bucky spoke about you a lot the other morning.” She grinned. “Wanda!” Bucky overhears and frowns. “Don’t worry! It was only good things.” She winks at you, making you giggle in response. “Steve told me you bake.” She quickly changes the subject when she realises Bucky is absolutely not happy with her telling you he’d spoken about you. “Oh, yeah I just made some cookies for you guys, Steve keeps stealing them though.” You glance across at Steve who’s taken another one. Wanda bursts out laughing. “The man’s a bottomless pit, if there’s food, he’ll eat and eat until there’s no more.” She laughed, backing away from you to pluck a cookie from the tin. “Hey, doll, c’mere a sec.” Bucky interrupts, calling you over and you give Wanda an apologetic look.

You join Bucky’s side, waiting for him to start talking but he pauses and watches Steve put his hand in the tin again. Bucky smacks the back of Steve’s hand. “They ain’t just for you punk.” He frowns. “Jerk.” Steve rolls his eyes, still snatching a cookie and backs away to join Wanda. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me to the next town over in a couple of days, they’re having an annual bike show and the guys are going, I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with?” He proposed. “I’ll even give you a ride there.” He adds and with that you enthusiastically nod. “See without even being a biker, you’re part of the crew now.” Bucky grins and pats you on the shoulder. “I don’t have a cool jacket like you guys though.” You smirk, pointing at the patches and badges that adorn his leather jacket that sits draped over the work bench. “You can wear mine if ya like doll, I think it’ll look real cute on you.” Bucky blushes at his own words and winks at you, making you giggle and look away shyly.

It’s a bit later on and you’re perched on the back of Bucky’s bike, pulling up to your apartment complex. Hopping off the back, Bucky insists on walking you up to your door and you let him. He takes your hand in his metal one, since he noticed you seem to gravitate naturally for it, he no longer holds back with that hand anymore. As you approach the door to your flat, you fumble about with your keys and unlock the door, letting you both in.

You try to hand the helmet you borrowed back to Bucky but he gently pushes it away. “Keep it, sweetheart, you need it more than I do.” He winks at you and you grin up at him. “Thank you for the ride home.” You smile, you were definitely getting used to the motorbike, perhaps even one day you might ask him to teach you how to ride one, but for now you were content with riding on the back of his. “Anytime, doll.” He smiles. “So the day after tomorrow, two o’clock sharp.” He pushes a finger into your shoulder as you nod. “I can’t wait.” You grin. “Good, you’ll meet the rest of the crew as well.” Bucky pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’re all as sweet as Steve and Wanda, maybe a bit loud. If it gets too much, just squeeze my hand and I’ll help ya out.” Bucky gives you a reassuring smile. He was really starting to catch on to what made you anxious and nervous and you appreciated his attention to your behaviour. “Thank you, for everything Bucky.” You say quietly. “You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.” His lopsided smile graces his lips. “Wait, I just realised I don’t have your number, doll.” He pulls out his phone and you both exchange numbers. Bucky bends down to kiss your cheek and you somehow have a rush of confidence and reach forwards to kiss his cheek back before he moves away. Bucky pulls you into a tight embrace before backing away and exiting your apartment. “Bye doll.” Bucky says, waving to you through the gap in the door and you say goodbye before he closes the door completely and you’re left alone in silence.

Your phone buzzes and you look down at it, grinning uncontrollably when you read the message.

Hey doll, can’t wait to see you next, love Bucky x

Love Bucky with a kiss? God you were about to keel over with excitement. Your fingers typed a reply and you sent it without even thinking.

Hey Bucky, I can’t wait to see you either, maybe you can show me more of your tattoos xx

And then you realise how that sounds and you facepalm, grumbling to yourself about how embarrassing you are.

I mean, not like that, I just meant, you know what I meant

Why were you just as awkward texting as you were real life?

I knew what you meant, doll, maybe I will show you more xx

You bit your lip and sighed, you couldn’t wait to see Bucky again, perhaps it was a little crazy quite how much you were falling for him so fast, but you couldn’t help it. Bucky was a big, muscular, handsome man with a tough guy exterior and a soft, huge heart of gold and you just couldn’t get enough of him, you just wanted to get to know him more and you hoped you two could bond some more on your trip out of town.

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