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multifandomfix · 2 months ago

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Catch A Glimpse — Birdie Jay

Summary: Birdie unintentionally flusters you while she changes and she decides to play it up a bit.

Word Count: 1,224

Warnings: Suggestive, sexually charged, nudity, lots of teasing

You’d just arrived at the island, the glittering coastline still fresh in your mind as you stepped into your designated room at Miles Bron’s opulent getaway. The tension of the journey seemed to melt away as soon as you saw the comfort of your surroundings, the plush bed, the golden hues bouncing off the walls, the hum of soft music in the distance. But any hint of relaxation was shattered when Birdie Jay bounced into your space, bag in hand, without so much as a knock.

"Oh my God, can you believe this place," she exclaimed, twirling around the room, already peeling off her colorful kaftan like she owned every corner of the island.

You stood awkwardly, trying to give her space, but your eyes drifted to her despite yourself. Birdie was magnetic, in every sense of the word. Always too much and yet somehow, not enough. She flung her kaftan onto the bed without missing a beat, leaving her completely bared to you.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could even stop yourself. Your face burned, and you quickly turned away, eyes fixed on the floor. "I—sorry, I didn’t—"

Birdie laughed, that bright, carefree sound filling the room. "Oh, don’t be so shy. You can look if you want, I don’t mind."

You blinked, unsure whether to take that as flirting or just another moment of Birdie’s notorious carelessness. You never knew with her. Her boundaries seemed to shift on a whim, so predicting anything about her was near impossible. "No, I just didn’t know you didn’t have anything on under there," you stammered.

"Darling, please." Birdie rolled her eyes in that exaggerated way she always did, like everything was just one big joke. She pulled out a bikini from her bag, the flash of bright color, and very little material catching your eye, even though you were desperately trying to avert your gaze.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything else —the pattern on the rug, the painting on the wall— anything but her. Yet, your gaze flickered back to Birdie, just for a split second. And she caught you. Of course, she did.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, a mischievous smile spreading across her lips. "What, you like the view?" she teased, bending over slowly as she slipped the bikini bottoms on. She made as if she were stretching, but you knew better.

Heat rose to your cheeks again, and you immediately averted your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Birdie…"

"Mhm," she hummed, clearly enjoying how flustered you’d become. "I knew you couldn’t resist." She straightened up, her tone suddenly more playful than teasing.

It was hard to tell if she was just toying with you. She had that way about her, making you question her intention. Was she serious? Did she mean it? Or was this just her being Birdie, loving the attention, thriving off the confusion she could stir up in you with a single sentence?

You heard her footsteps behind you, soft and deliberate, and you felt her presence before you saw her reflection in the mirror. Your body tensed. Her fingers brushed over your shoulders before she gently covered your eyes, blocking out your view completely. You could hear her breathing, feel the warmth of her breath against your neck.

"Don’t worry, I’ll help you out," she whispered, her lips barely an inch away from your ear. Her voice had gone low, sultry even, sending a shiver down your spine. "You just gotta tie me up first," she said next, this time with her usual chipperness.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought the urge to turn around, to meet her gaze, to confront whatever this was. Was she really flirting? Or was this some kind of game?

"Birdie…" you managed to say, before your voice caught in your throat.

"I mean the bathing suit, silly," she said, uncovering your eyes and turning around so you could tie the top in place.

For a moment, you didn’t dare move, unsure of what would happen next. Maybe she was going to leave it at that. This had all been a harmless tease, a playful moment, nothing more. So you did as she asked and tied the suit, being sure to double knot it so there’d be no unintentional slip ups.

But when you’d finished, she turned back to you, leaning closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "You’ve always been cute when you’re nervous."

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Wait, was she really serious this whole time? The air between you had shifted, it felt different, heavier. Gone was the playful Birdie you’d always thought you’d known. This was a different side of her, and it was kind of exhilarating.

You turned your head enough to catch her gaze. She was so close. Too close to be playing around anymore. Her eyes were half lidded, lips curved in a smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing. And that made it all the more dangerous and enticing.

"Is this a joke," you asked softly, needing to know for sure. After all, Birdie had a habit of blurring lines, of keeping everyone guessing.

She still smiled, but it had softened, it felt more intimate, more real. "Does it feel like a joke?"

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "I don’t know what this feels like."

Birdie tilted her head, studying your face as if weighing her next move. Then, with surprising tenderness, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Well, I guess we’ll have to figure that out, won’t we?"

The room felt warmer suddenly, or maybe it was just you, standing there, caught in this moment that felt like the start of something you hadn’t been prepared for. You’d always admired Birdie from a distance, with her chaotic energy and her lack of inhibitions, but this was definitely different. This was Birdie in your space, in your world, inviting you into hers in a way that felt far too intimate for comfort.

"Birdie, what do you want," you asked.

Her smile widened, but there was something almost genuine in her eyes now. "I want you. But…" she hesitated, the playfulness dropping just for a moment, "we don’t have to tell anyone. Not yet."

"Not yet," you echoed, your heart pounding.

She shrugged, her smile back in place, though now there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in her gaze. "They don’t need to know everything, do they?"

You didn’t know how to respond. But Birdie didn’t wait for an answer. She took your hand, gently pulling you toward her. "We’ll just keep this between us," she told you, her lips brushing against yours, soft and lingering, sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

The kiss may not have been all that long, but it left you breathless and your mind spinning. When she pulled back, her eyes were alight with excitement, as if she’d just discovered something new, something thrilling.

"So, what do you say," she asked, her grin as dazzling as ever. "Are you in?"

You didn’t need to think. You nodded, still reeling from the kiss, still trying to process everything that had just happened.

"Good," Birdie whispered, giving your hand a squeeze. "Now, remember, our little secret."

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Birdie Jay: @hotshot624, @lady-darkswan3

#birdie jay #birdie jay one shot #birdie jay x reader #glass onion #glass onion one shot #request #send requests #requests open

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sourav2004 · 8 months ago

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mctreeleth · 5 years ago

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Here it is! The instructions to make a pieced and quilted plague doctor mask!

Just as a heads up, this pattern is not really recommended for beginners. There is not a whole lot of explanation of the basic techniques, and it requires a fair bit of precision, two types of fusible interfacing, and an assumption that you can keep a consistent seam allowance and do some hand sewing and know when to sew things right sides together and such.

I am not promising anything, different methods will yield different results, I have never made a pattern exactly as it was written and neither should you. If you want something the same as the next person, go to the shops.

Actually, nevermind, this is a quarantine craft, stay home.

There are two ways to do the piecing for this project. The first is a quilting technique called English Paper Piecing, there are plenty of tutorials online, but it is done by hand and I do not have the patience for it. Still, if you have the time but not the machinery, it is probably your best option for a very good finish. Cut the pattern net out of card, glue the bits onto your fabric, sew them up, pull them out and add interfacing after. I sewed three hexies together once and got bored and gave up.

The method I actually used involves my favourite cheat for sewing: you can use an inkjet printer to print on non-woven fusible interfacing! There are ridiculously overpriced pre-cut packs available, but also you can just cut up some midweight to the right size. I just have a boring old Epson printer, and I can get away with just putting some scotch tape along the edge that feeds in for a bit of stability. Alternatively, depending on the brand, you can “fuse” it onto some non-stick baking paper, cut it to size, and then peel it off without losing too much adhesive. (My pictures look a little different because my original A4 version fits on the page differently than the shared version)

Printing onto interfacing means I know my dimensions are perfect, and I have the markings on the pieces so I know what joins to what. If you only have a laser printer, or your inkjet hates you and wont let you print on interfacing, I still recommend using fusible interfacing for structure and precision piecing. You will just need to keep a lot better track of what is what, because the pieces are all slightly different and they only go together one way.

The actual “pattern” for this project is a geometric net. I highly recommend making one in paper or cardstock first, because we all have different sized heads. As with most quilting projects, it will generally get to be a little bit smaller again once it is all sewn together, so keep that in mind.

This is a link to the PDF on Google Drive. It is a 4 page document, for printing on US letter size. There is enough space around the pieces that it can also print onto A4 paper: the one inch square should measure 2.5cm. Similarly, the extra space means it can be scaled up a bit before any gets cut off, if you have a particularly large face.

(Edited to add: if you were going to make this in a single fabric rather than pieced together patchwork pieces, I have uploaded a simplified version of the pattern, which has more curved seams which are easier to match. The technique is otherwise the same, but note that these patterns do not have seam allowances - you will need to add them when you cut your fabric so that the pieces match.)

The body of the mask is made up of two mirrored (four total) pieced together bits, plus some circles to go around the lenses. There are two mirrored top pieces, and two mirrored bottom pieces. The top pieces are numbered 1-14, and are split over two pages and need to be joined together. The bottom pieces are lettered A-H. On one side of the pattern the numbers and letters are circled, so you know which side you are working on. There are also small dashes in the corners of the pieces; single dashes connect to single dashes, double dashes connect to double dashes. At the parts that become the edges of the eye holes, there are little dots at the end of the dashes.

Even if you are printing onto interfacing, you will also need to do a paper printout, as it will be used later as a pattern to cut the batting and the lining. The paper printout can also be used to work out your fabric placement, if you are going for a certain look (again, this one was printed as an all in one A4 sheet, but it works the same).

Cutting the Patchworked Outer

If you have managed to print onto fusible interfacing, all you need to do is cut the pieces. Otherwise, do what you need to trace the pieces onto interfacing, making notes of where they go and which sides align to what.

Once you have your interfacing pieces cut and organized, fuse them to your fabrics with at least enough room between and around them for seam allowances on each side.

I use a 1cm seam allowance, but feel free to use a quarter or half inch if that is what you are used to.

Trim all the pieces to have a consistent seam allowance.

Lay the trimmed pieces out on the paper printouts. This will let you know if there are any pieces missing, or any parts where fabric duplicates might share a seam.

Piecing the Patchworked Outer

First, piece together the nets of the bottom pieces. Put a straight pin straight through at the corners of the interfacings of two neighboring pieces, so they are perfectly aligned. Then angle the pin on the right hand side so it comes back up along where the seam will go, and angle the one on the left so that it is going across.

Sew along the edge of the interfacing, aiming for just alongside of it, not on it.

Finger press the seams open, then repeat until all the pieces are together.

The technique for the top pieces is the same, but at any join which ends at an eyehole (marked on the pattern with a black dot on the ends of the dash), backstitch at the end of the interfacing, so that it won’t pull apart at the edge. The seam allowance at this part will be cut off, so it needs to be secured before that point to prevent it from pulling apart.

Batting and Quilting

Properly press all the pieces, with the seams open.

Using the paper pattern, cut out two mirrored top and bottom pieces from fusible batting.

Iron these onto the inside of the pieced parts, so that their edges line up with the interfacings. In my experience, the best way to iron on fusible batting is from the right side, so I pin them in place and flip them over, iron a little bit so they barely stick, pull out the pins, and fuse properly.

Do some quilting. I just went 5mm to the side of every seam, because the next lot of seams need to be topstitched in the same way, and I like the consistency.

Assembly of the Patchworked Outer

Join together the gap in the top pieces. The batting was aligned to the interfacing, so the technique is the same.

Press the seams apart and topstitch the seams to either side.

Trim off the excess seam allowance around the eye holes to the edge of the batting and interfacing. this was why we needed to backstitch earlier.

The next step joins the top and bottom pieces together. The bottom piece attaches to the more curved edge of the top piece - that last seam that was joined after adding the batting will meet these side seams, angled towards the tip of the beak. Sewing the sides is the trickiest bit to do on the machine, so, while I would normally say basting is for cowards, if you want the points to match perfectly, this is a time when pinning will not really cut it. I just hand sew through each point where the seams join, go back through a couple of threads over, and tie it off.

Then I put pins through the longer seams.

When sewing it with the machine, try to keep the lines as straight as possible, making turns only at the seams where you put a basting stitch.

Once both sides are sewn, press the seams open and topstitch to either side.

Repeat this step for the top centre seam. You can just pin baste this one if you would rather, because the angles match, but it is literally right there in the middle where everyone can see it, so if you are not confident in matching points, baste it.

Press the seams open and topstitch.

The technique is the same for the bottom centre seam, but topstitching all the way to the tip of the beak is not possible, so you will have to do the last bit of top stitching by hand.

It doesn’t matter so much if it is a bit messy, because it is not in a place where it can really be seen, but spitting the seam will help it hold its shape more nicely.

That is the pretty outside bit done.

Making and Attaching the Lining

To make the lining, use the paper pattern to cut two mirrored pieces of the top and bottom pieces, with whatever seam allowance you prefer.

The gap on the top piece will have a maximum possible seam allowance of about a quarter inch, but this is enough for a secure internal seam. The eye holes do not need a seam allowance.

Sew together the gaps in the top pieces, then sew the top seam of the top pieces and the centre seam of the bottom pieces together.

Open up both pieces and sew the sides together. You should have a lining piece that is a floppy, boring version of the outside piece.

I have not included a step for how to make a strap, because everyone has their own preferred methods, and there are plenty of alternative options. If you don’t want to worry about making strapping you can use ribbon or elastic, or put a small loop there to thread something through afterwards. Whatever the choice, pin to the centre of the back edges of pattern pieces #10, facing towards the eye holes.

Put the lining piece, facing right side in, over the pieced outer and the strap pieces and pin around the edges, lining up the four seams of the lining with the seams on the outer.

Sew around the edge.

Turn the piece right side out through one of the lining’s eye holes. You just sort of pull the pieced outer (which is currently inside) back a bit, until the tip of the beak can come through an eye hole, and then try to pull it through as gently as possible so that the raw edge of the eye hole doesn’t get too stretched and frayed.

Then push the lining back into the pieced outer body of the mask.

Pin around the edge, so that the lining is all tucked neatly inside.

Top stitch over the edge.

Eye hole time!

Pin the outer and lining together in the eye holes, and top stitch about 4mm (1/6th of an inch) from the edges. Trim any fraying bits.

Hand stitch 1 inch wide bias binding to the inner edge of the eye hole, just over the top stitch.

Flip the bias binding through the eye hole to the outer, fold the raw edge of the bias binding under itself, and hand stitch it down to the outside. Repeat for the other eye.

This next step is the worst bit, and if you have another method, go for it. Theoretically you could use something thicker that wouldn’t fray, like a felt or leather, so that you didn’t have to worry about lining the eye holes, but it depends on the look you are going for.

Cut out four circles from fabric, two of the biggest size, two of the medium size. Draw the smallest size circle in the middle of the back of the medium sized circle, and stack it on top of the centre of the big one, right sides together. From the fusible batting, cut two donut shapes of the medium size with the smallest circle cut out of the centre.

Using very small stitches, sew around the small circle drawn on the medium sized circles. Fuse the donut of batting to the back of the large circle, with the inside of the donut matching the sewn line. Cut an even smaller hole out of the middle, so that the seam allowance that remains is a slightly smaller width than the batting. Clip this into at least 12 pieces.

Press the smaller circle towards the centre, so that it can be turned in though the hole.

This will take a lot of careful ironing and pinning. Let it sit for a bit, so that it learns to be there.

Then unpin it, but hopefully the little clipped bits will stay there. Fold the bigger circle down over them – you will need a lot of little tiny pleats – making the outer edge as round as possible.

Then press that smaller circle back down over the pleats, so that it is level with the folded outer edge. If it sticks over in any places, trim it back, but only just.

Pin this donut shape over the eye piece. The inside edge of the donut should be level with the inside of the bias binding, the raw edge up against the outer fabric.

Hand sew around the outer edge of the donut to the pieced fabric. Make sure that the raw edge from the smaller circle is under the donut, but do not let it flip out through the middle. On the machine, top stitch about a quarter inch from the outer edge.

This should catch the raw edge inside, and leave a ridge between the outer eye donut and the bias bound eye hole. From the inside, it should be possible to pop in a round lens from a pair of sunglasses, or an improvised lens such as a circle of clear plastic cut from the lid of an old takeaway container, or some transparent holographic vinyl, such as this stuff on amazon. Repeat for the other eye hole.

Hooray! You are all done!

I am really not sure on the efficacy of this as an actual viable mask. On the one hand, there are a lot of seams through which germs could pass, but on the other hand, the fact that the lining is a bit loose and baggy inside the beak might cancel that out.

Depending on your materials, it should be machine washable, although it will almost certainly look a lot less crisp.

I had a lot of issues with my lenses fogging up after a couple of minutes of me wearing it, but who knows, maybe I am just a very wet breather.

I am not going to charge anything for this pattern, nor am I going to place restrictions on what you do with the items you make. I do not control your right to profit from your work. All art is derivative, and you making your own version transforms this pattern. Don’t let assertions of intellectual property rights be another way you are alienated from your labour. If you decide to sell your work, demand fair remuneration for your time and skills. Someone offering to pay for the materials is not enough. If you have decided to take an activity you love and turn it into work, make it worthwhile.

On the flip side, please don’t try to sell this bit of writing or the PDF of the pattern net or these photographs. They are free for you and for everyone else. Resist society’s message that you should try to profit from your every action, and especially resist the notion that true success is achieved by profiting from anyone else’s labour.

If you want to discuss this stuff further, I would love that! I am researching the commodification of creative knowledge for my PhD, focusing on quilt patterns and designs. Message me @mctreeleth on tumblr and instagram or @sarasewsstuff on twitter for my uni email.

Edit: I have added in a link to a simplified version if you are going to make this with a single fabric rather than patchwork piecing.

#plague doctor mask #quilting #sewing #quarantine craft #sewing pattern #craft pattern #long post under the cut #with so so many pictures #it has been a wild five days #I haven't slept in about 37 hours #I have three of these but only one set of lenses #that just fog up instantly

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bratkook · 4 years ago

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cozy thief. (m) jjk

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader genre. smut, fluff, mutual pining word count. 5.1k warnings. roommate!au, cuteness!! lots of kissing & heavy petting, hand in pants action and messy/needy humping from jungkook lol summary. a rainstorm knocking out your power is the small push needed for confessions to come tumbling out author’s note. requested for #30 from this prompt list! thank you for sending this in 🖤 (requests now closed)

The bubbling water is the only thing you focus on as you rest against the countertop, hands tightly holding onto your fluffy blanket of choice to trap all of the warmth in before it could escape. The rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows has become background noise now, already accustomed to the sound that woke you up hours ago.

It’s therapeutic really, your fuzzy socks sliding along the floor as you pull out your favorite mug, grabbing the hot chocolate mix and mini marshmallows from their rightful spot in the pantry. You don’t even think about the ridiculous electric bill you’ll be getting from how high you currently have the heater cranked up, freezing to death was not worth saving a few bucks.

Jungkook would agree, loving the fact that he didn’t have to worry about walking around the apartment in a snow coat and scarf. Sure you were currently bundled up as if the place wasn’t maintained at a steady 75 degrees, but from the time spent living together he had grown to learn that the minute there was rain or snow you would pull out the coziest blankets regardless of temperature.

“Can you make me one too?” He speaks up as he leans against the mini island, smiling when your blanket clad body jumps at the unexpectant sound of his voice.

The spoon clanks against the mug as you stop stirring the hot chocolate, turning your head back to take a peek at your roommate. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Jungkook laughs now, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt as he rounds the island to grab himself a mug. “What, should I wear a bell around my neck to let you know when I’m nearby?”

“Yeah actually, you sneak up on me all the time. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

You eye his mug of choice, a Friends one that actually belonged to you, a little hard to believe considering it was the one he always used without fail. It was admittedly your fault for forcing him to binge watch the whole show on Netflix before it got taken off, but for someone who claimed he couldn’t stand it all he sure did cradle the themed mug with utmost care.

“You’re easy to scare, can’t blame me for seeing an opportunity and taking it.” Sliding the mug in your direction he rests on his elbows, observing you as you pour in the hot water, mixing the cocoa powder and smiling when you get the first inhale of it.

“Scare me some more and I’m revoking this mug privilege.” Jungkook knows it's an empty threat, the roll of his eyes calling your bluff so you just sigh, clutching the bag of mini marshmallows and bringing them close. “Yay or nay for the marshmallows?”

“Yay, what do I look like, an animal?” He scoffs, hand urging you to top off his drink with more sweets, a charming smile spreading out onto his face when you slide the mug over.

Just as he’s about to take a sip you walk off, both hands cupping your drink as you slide your way out of the kitchen. “Wait, where are you going?”

You freeze at the doorway, turning around with a confused face, “To binge watch some movies in the living room? The vent by the couch makes it the best place to get toasty.”

“Mind if I join you?”

The audacity of him to ask as if he didn’t regularly crash your binging parties, still you nod your head before turning back around and continuing your trek, hearing the soft patter of his bare feet against the floor.

“Why did you beg me to get you those cow slippers for your birthday if you refuse to wear them?” You wonder as you settle onto the couch, adjusting your blanket to circle around your lap as you bring your knees up.

Jungkook sighs dramatically as he sits beside you, bringing his bare feet up and shoving them underneath the pile of blanket around you, laughing loudly when you yell at the feeling of his cold feet against your silk pajama pants. “Because they’re cute, besides I don’t need slippers because my roommate has the best blankets.”

Accepting your fate you simply glare at him, detesting the way he could look as good as he does while attempting to push your buttons. The smug smile against the rim of the mug shows that he knows he can get away with it, a playful wink being the icing on top as he reaches for the remote.

You ignore the way your heart skips as he clicks onto your profile, already sorting through your favorite movies, knowing they were starred and saved under your list. As he passes Legally Blonde you gasp, almost undetected but he had been waiting for any reaction to know what to pick.

“You know, this has become one of my favorite movies now.” He quietly confesses, pressing play and setting the remote down onto the coffee table.

“Seriously?”

Jungkook hums as he takes another sip, eyes focused on the beginning scenes of Legally Blonde. This was definitely one of your comfort movies, even if he didn’t end up crashing your movie night he could still hear each scene from his bedroom, almost knowing every single line from how often you played it.

He proves his point as the movie continues, the two of you slowly sinking further into the couch, no longer caring about him using your blanket as makeshift slippers as you laugh each time he recites a line, adding his own commentary as he goes. The mugs of hot chocolate are drained dry, pushed onto the coffee table, freeing up his hands that somehow wind up playing with your own in a mindless motion, slowly tracing down your fingers to gently clasp them together before pulling apart and repeating.

Just as Elle Woods takes the floor to question the witness, the entire room goes black, Jungkook’s hands freezing on top of yours as you wait for a moment. With the loss of power you instantly feel the warmth begin to fade away, the vent right beside the couch no longer providing you the toasty escape you wanted.

“It was getting to my favorite part.” He groans out, resting his head back onto the couch, something you can just barely see in the darkness.

“Fuck is the whole block out of power?”

Jungkook pulls his hand away from yours as he stands up, knocking his knee into the coffee table and laughing as he tries to navigate through the dark living room. His silhouette makes it to the window, peering through it to see if maybe it was just your building that was shit out of luck, but the entire block is in fact dark.

“Yup, it’ll probably come back soon though.”

After two more hours and another mug of hot chocolate it became very clear that the power wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Both of your phones lay screen down with the flashlight on as you finish up your drink once more, tightening the blanket around you now that the cold is becoming more prevalent.

“We’re gonna freeze to death.”

“No we’re not, it's a rain storm not a blizzard outside. We should probably call it a night though, the floors are getting cold as fuck.”

He had still refused to put on his slippers, allowing the cold tile from the kitchen to turn his feet into icicles. “You act like you don’t own socks or slippers.”

Jungkook merely waves you off with a laugh, grabbing his phone from its spot on the counter. “Let me live, good night!” His flashlight sways with every step, illuminating the trail before he disappears behind his bedroom door, leaving you with no other option than to retreat into your own room.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, the rapid pattering of the rain against the window filling up the space and its no longer as therapeutic as it used to be now that you can feel the cold it brings with it.

Lighting up the candle on your nightstand, hoping the smell of gingerbread will convince your mind you’re not freezing, you settle into your bed. The feeling of your cold sheets against you has you whining, quickly pulling up the blankets at the end of the bed to warm you up as you ball into yourself.

It's only a few minutes later that you hear the gentle knocking against your door, the top of your head just barely peeking up from the mountain of blankets as Jungkook peers inside your room. The words he wants to say leave him when he takes note of the way you're being swallowed whole by different patterns.

“Holy shit, can you even breathe?”

“You wish you were this comfortable.” You laugh, tightening your grip on the blankets and pulling them snugly under your chin.

He shuts the door behind him as he steps further into your room, smiling when he gets the whiff of your candle. “That's actually why I’m here, can I steal a blanket?”

The idea of parting with even one of your blankets sounds like a sin, a frown etched onto your face as you contemplate it. “If you think I’m gonna give you one of these after you refused to use the slippers I bought you, you’re crazy.”

“C’mon,” he whines, sitting on the edge of the bed and toppling over to bury his face against the warmth, fingers clutching on when you try to wiggle him off of your legs.

“No, if you take one you’re gonna fuck up the balance I have going on right now.”

“Fine,” he grunts, but just when you think he’ll give up he starts to crawl over you, long limbs making their way to the other side of the bed. You feel the cold instantly as he peels off the comforter from the right side, making himself right at home as he slides underneath it in search of warmth. “We’ll share then.”

With the way he shimmies around, finding the best position to get comfortable, you know there's no way you can shake him. He smiles into the sheets when you grumble out a fine and turn over, not trusting yourself to be able to stare at his face from a close proximity and do something you’d regret.

A soft exhale leaves your lips as you force your eyes shut, ignoring the pounding in your chest as he inches closer so his legs don’t slip out from the blankets. You and Jungkook were roommates, and friends now underneath it all, but before you had crossed into friendship territory you realized you had a teeny tiny crush on him.

When you had first moved in he had a girlfriend, a girl you rarely ever saw since he preferred to go to her place, so it helped tame down the crush. But once they broke up and he began spending all of his time at home, the small bursts of his personality you would see lit that crush back up. It was always hard to tell if the way he behaved around you was just the way he normally acted or if he maybe had a small interest in you as well.

Forcing your mind from wandering deeper into fantasyland you nuzzle further into your pillow, pulling more of the blankets with you as you try to fall asleep. Jungkook feels the cold nip at his exposed ankle, huffing and flipping over to look at you with a small smile, the stolen blankets bundled around you nice and tight.

“Steal the blanket again and I’ll put my cold feet on you.” Is the threat he makes as his fingers clutch onto the top layer of blanket and tug it back. It's a threat you don’t take lightly, gaze narrowing as you turn your head to glare at him.

“You wouldn’t…”

His brows raise up at the challenge, jaw ticking out as he looks at you and before you can even react, he’s attacking, maneuvering himself around until he’s skillfully slipping his cold ass feet underneath the hem of your pants. You feel the cold instantly, a squeal of protest leaving you as you try to kick him away.

“Who the fuck sleeps with no socks in this weather!”

“Me, which is why I need the blankets you thief!” He laughs out, continuing to try to yank the blankets back now that you were distracted, pulling the soft fabric out of your fists as you start to admit defeat. With a small cheer of success he pulls the warmth up and over the both of you like a little fort, his eyes crinkling up in a smile as he stares at you, now positioned right on top of you.

Small pants escape your mouth as you slow your breathing, wide eyes blinking up at him as he refuses to move. The bed dips on either side of you as he holds himself up, lips still spread out in a smile, getting wider when he sees the way your eyes flicker down to them before looking back.

You wanted to kiss him, he knew this, had known of your crush since the very beginning. Jungkook had taken note of the way you would stumble over words whenever you spot him leaving the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, enjoying the flustered look on your face, that being the main reason he did it so often.

You thought you were slick, letting your eyes trace over the lines of muscle until it slipped behind the towel, but he simply let you get away with it, meeting your flustered gaze with that bunny smile you had grown to love. But as he hovers over you now there's no way he can pretend he doesn't notice the way your starry eyes stare at him, how you subtly lick your lips over.

With a small tilt to his head he finally breaks the silence, whispering gently inside of the little cocoon he had made. “I really want to kiss you.”

That gets him the reaction he wanted, the small gasp filling the air as your mouth drops open a tiny bit. “What?”

“Your lips look so soft, wanna kiss them.” His voice drops to a murmur, slow and husky as the words drawl out.

He wants to kiss you, something you’ve been dreaming of for months, and now your mind is betraying you as it struggles to unscramble the words needed to respond.

“Can I?” He asks, soft eyes looking directly at you and when you nod your head he tsks in disapproval, “Need to hear you say it love.”

The pet name makes you melt into your sheets, finally giving him a response as your brain releases your voice, “Y-yes, please kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles in appreciation before slowly inching forward, nose gently nudging against yours as he swoops in. Your eyes flutter shut when the softness of his lips press against yours, kissing back instantly at the first touch, your mind whirling at the intoxicating feeling. Jungkook can feel his heartbeat quicken when you let out a small sigh, your shy hands gaining courage and sliding up his sides until you’re cupping his face.

He winces at the icy feel of your fingers on his cheeks, the soft breaths of his laughter making you smile in between kisses, teeth knocking together as it begins to turn messy, the two of you just wanting more of each other now that the line has finally been crossed.

Jungkook lets you bring him in closer, balancing on his elbows as he slots himself between your thighs, the soft smacks of your lips blending in with the light crackle of the candle and the rain from outside.

A gentle nip of your teeth on his bottom lip earns you the first groan, the second coming when you trace your tongue along the seam of his mouth, slowly licking your way inside until it’s gently tangled against his own. Jungkook can feel his heart thrumming in his ears now, the realization that he was finally kissing you making his entire body warm up.

The way you had behaved with him, calling him bro, punching his shoulder whenever he told jokes in an act to force yourself from ruining the friendship, made him believe that this would never happen. He didn’t want to come across as the typical cocky boy who swore he could win everyone over but the way you’re gasping into his mouth, fingers moving to grasp around his neck to bring him even closer when he unconsciously rolls his hips into yours makes him feel like he just did.

Your wishful thinking had been true, the sweet gestures he did in day to day life stemming from the small inkling of a crush, something that had been planted the minute he started spending more time at home and around you. At first he thought nothing of it, chalking it up to enjoying spending time with his new friend, but soon enough he discovered he preferred to stay in with you, join you on your random quests to hunt for a new place to eat at, ignoring any other girl who showed any interest in him.

As the two of you continue to kiss inside the small makeshift fort, the air becomes stuffy, Jungkook pulling away with a small laugh. “Wait, can’t breathe.”

You let go of his neck and paw the blankets off your faces, the cool air of your bedroom finally being welcomed as you catch your breath.

“Better?” you question, smiling when he nods at you. “Good, now kiss me again.”

He doesn’t need you to tell him twice, lips cutting off the end of your sentence urgently, feeling the way you smile against him, your leg hooking over his hips like second nature. Jungkook feels like his head is spinning, the way your fingers move to rake along his hair, the soft gasps and sighs passed between you, he feels like a goner, the tipping point being your hips rutting up into his.

Both of you pause at the sensation, Jungkook moaning into your mouth as your clothed core grinds along the slowly growing erection pressed against you. “Y/N, don’t tease me.”

“Why?” you breathe out, pressing kisses along the side of his mouth and jaw as you repeat the motion, the usual fear of him not feeling the same long gone from your mind.

He drops himself further until his face is buried in your neck, goosebumps flaring out as his breath hits your skin when he speaks. “I’m trying to be sweet.” he murmurs, kissing your neck softly.

“You are being sweet,” you whisper, tightening your grip around his hip, smiling when he groans while you once again rut up into him. “Am I not being sweet? Just wanna make you feel good, Kook.”

Of course you were sweet, you always have been, it was the main reason his heart started to skip around you, why he clung onto your mug like a safety net, wanting to keep a small part of you with him. If you wanted to make him feel good he was in no position to refuse, wanting to reciprocate the sweet gesture instead.

Jungkook lifts his head up, dark waves falling over his face as he stares at you, wanting to see the look on your face as he gives the first roll of his hips into yours. He sees the way your teeth bite down onto your lower lip, pillowing the soft flesh out, mouth opening up to let out a gasp as he repeats the motion. There's never been a time where he’s been more thankful for a power outage than right now.

“Keep going,” you urge him on, sighing beautifully when he rocks against you again, hips nudging the leg hooked around his waist higher up with each slowly thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He sighs, taking a moment to fully admire you laid out underneath him, eyes sparkling as you stare up at him, mouth slightly parted as you groan at the small tingles of pleasure starting up inside of you.

“Wanna feel you.” The confession hangs in the air for a second, the trailing of your hand down his covered chest, fingertips tickling along the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of his sweats, is what finally brings him back. His moment of admiration being broken as your hands slips past and gently grasps his hardened cock, the expected feeling of his underwear nowhere to be found because not only did Jungkook refuse to wear socks he also refused to wear underwear.

Your eyes widen at his size, already a nice handful and slowly growing the longer you hold it in your palm. As you give him a small pump you feel the exhaled grunt he lets out fan across your skin, his eyes falling shut as he pants out your name.

Jungkook gasps as your palm rolls over the head of his cock, thumb rubbing along his slit and dragging the beads of precum down his length. With a shaky hand he trails down your chest, slipping past your pants and underwear. A pleased hum escapes him as he feels how wet you are, fingers sliding along your folds, collecting your arousal before coming back up to circle around your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hips jutting up at the tiny jolts of pleasure that spark each time his fingers circle around your bundle of nerves. This was definitely not how you thought your night would play out, still partially thinking you’re dreaming with your roommate asleep beside you but each time you blink the visual of his face inches from yours only gets clearer.

“How's this?” he whispers, eyebrow cocked up as he waits for a response, the tantalizing motion of his hands making your mind scramble once more, back arching up towards him as he applies a bit more pressure. Jungkook knows what he’s doing, the way his fingers find the right rhythm to leave you whimpering only to slow down right after, just because he likes the frustrated look etched onto your face.

A pout forms on your lips, your hands tightening their hold on his cock as you give him the same treatment, and as you slowly glide your palm down and back up, fingers refusing to go near his tip he groans in vexation.

“You’re not being nice.” Is what you manage to gasp out just before he picks up his pace once more, lips coming back down to yours in a hungry kiss, swallowing each moan as you let them out. Each pant through his nose is felt against your cheek as your own hands pick up the pace, the two of you working in tandem as the desperation starts to grow within you.

Jungkook wishes he could see you fully, not cocooned under a mountain of blankets, and for a split second he wants to suggest pulling them off entirely but the way the cold nips at your faces kills that idea on the spot. This would just have to do until the power came back.

“Ah shit,” he keens out in between sloppy kisses as your hands trail further down to fondle his balls, the beginning feelings of his climax creeping up embarrassingly fast. He couldn’t help himself, for months now he had wondered what it felt like to kiss you so this whole situation put his mind into overdrive.

You were on the same boat, the warm sensation spreading throughout you as his fingers continue to pinch and roll around your aching clit. “Wait, fuck I’m close,” you whimper out, chest rising and falling rapidly as you pull away from his mouth, a small string of spit connecting you together.

“Really?”

“Shut up don’t make fun of me,” you protest, gasping when he starts to kiss and suck along your neck.

“I’m not,” he mumbles, his hips rutting into your palm, fingers fisting the sheets beside you. “I’m close too.”

The whiny tone to his voice has more wetness gushing out, further ruining your underwear and Jungkook feels it as he fingers glide against your skin. That's enough to spur him on, quickening his pace with just the right pressure until your limbs are tightening up, back arching as your free hand clutches Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, and he has no intentions to, smiling against your neck as your hand stutters along his length as the pleasure you feel coursing through you. Each roll of his fingers has you seeing stars in your dimly lit room, whines getting breathier each time until you’re finally coming undone with a cry of his name.

Jungkook feels the mess you make against his fingers, gently biting your skin as he starts to rut into your palm, the small twitches your body makes as he continues to tease your sensitive nub only making his need to cum grow.

“Y/N,” he mewls, pulling his hand out of your pants once you hum at your name, your palm trailing up his shoulder and into his hair to gently run through it. “Wanna cum.”

You bite your lips at his words, pulling your own hand out of his pants and he cries out at the loss of contact, face lifting up from your neck and the prettiest pout on his lips that you kiss away. “Cum, use me Jungkook.”

He eyes you for a moment, a subtle nod of confirmation being all he needs to slide down his sweats a bit until his cock slips out, a small sigh filling the air at being released from its confines. He licks his lips over as he grasps his cock, resting it along your core and sighing at the smooth feeling of your pants, the silk slightly cold against him, the small wet patch along it only making him shut his eyes.

When you widen your thighs for him to slot more easily he starts to rut forward, leaning back over you with his palms beside your face once more. Jungkook pants at the sensation, the gliding of his cock against your covered pussy, the small whines you let out each time he nudges against your clit, it kickstarts his climax once more.

“Feels good,” he grunts out, head bowing forward and pressing against your chest as he picks up the pace, hips knocking into you each time, beads of precum dampening your silk pajama set and mixing with your own arousal.

Jungkook doesn’t care how needy he looks right now, humping you like a desperate teenager because that’s exactly how he feels.

“Yeah, are you gonna cum for me Kook?” you whisper, caressing his hair until he’s looking at you once more, face screwed up as he teeters close to the edge.

When he nods eagerly you hook both legs around his waist, his mouth dropping open as he moans out unabashedly. “W-wanna feel you fully next time,” he grunts, jostling your body from the force of his thrusts, your pants wrinkling up around your thighs.

“You will,” you confirm, wanting nothing more than to actually feel his cock without the confines of clothes and blankets. “Once the power comes back.”

He chuckles at that for a second, smiling at you through the dull glow the candle provides but then his face twists up, brows pinching and jaw going slack as his hips grow sloppy.

“F-fuck,” he drawls out as his orgasm washes over him, hips rutting against yours with less grace than before, spurts of his warm cum splashing along your pussy and onto the small patch of skin above your waistband as he works himself through it. You sigh at the feeling, cupping his cheeks as your thumbs soothe him down.

Jungkook continues to rock against you until he’s whimpering in overstimulation, panting as he stares down at you with the dopiest smile. He turns his head to kiss at your hand by his cheek before bending down to press his lips against your in a gentle kiss.

“Did we just get to third base?” he whispers against your lips after the two of you fully come down, laughing when you swat at his side playfully, your own laugh filling the air as he pulls back to stare at you once more.

Suddenly your room fills with light, the two of you squinting at the brightness, the sound of the heater kicking back is followed by the warmth from the vents beginning to flow through.

You don’t even have to look at him to know what face he’s making, your promise of letting him fully feel you once the power came back flooding his mind. “No Jungkook,” you laugh, pushing his face away from yours as he inches closer like a child.

“Why not?”

“Because you ruined my favorite pajamas.”

He laughs freely now, kneeling up until the blankets slide off his body, his eyes staring down at your pants and analyzing the mess the two of you made. “I mean, you ruined them first.”

Okay he has a point, but instead of agreeing you simply raise your foot up and nudge it against his chest until he topples to the side, allowing you to stand up from bed with no fear of the cold attacking you. Jungkook smiles against your sheets as he watches you grab new pants and underwear before slipping into your bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with a pair of snowman printed pants instead.

“You wanna go finish Legally Blonde?” he asks, head perched up by his hand as he lays on his side, that charming smile on his face.

“It’s like two in the morning.”

He shrugs, not caring about the time at all, just wanting to spend more time with you, already knowing the two of you would most likely end the night having a discussion about more than obvious feelings after what just happened.

After staring at him for another moment you smile too, reaching your bed for the same trusty blanket you hand earlier and wrapping it around your body. But as he stands up from your bed you extend your covered up out for him to join you, a smile of success gracing his face.

“Wow, you’re actually sharing with me.” he coos, leading the two of you back out into the living room.

“Watch it, I’ll take it back.”

Jungkook simply wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side before you sit onto the couch. “I know you will you cozy thief.”

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

Text

What We Inherit - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: Ushijima’s childhood has a greater effect on him than he lets on and you only just start to realize once you meet his parents. (~2.6k words)

Warnings: divorce discussion, angst with a soft ending, character study of a sort?, sfw

A/N: Ushijima needs more background so here’s me trying to grasp at straws for an understanding of his character.

---

Ushijima favors his mother, you realize suddenly.

Not favor in a preference sort of way - while you can tell he’s an attentive son (to the point that you are worried he is too much so, stiffer than usual and mildly anxious), you realize the reason why your gaze lingers a little too much on the details of her face and the way she walks when she rises out of her seat is because she is so much like him. Or rather, he is like her.

For some reason, this sudden recognition is groundbreaking.

After all, it’s odd to compare this small, unassuming woman to your boyfriend who frankly embodies strength, but the links of blood are there, and obviously so. You can see him in the same hazel eyes that seem to pierce through you, the smile that is soft and polite but restricted, and even the way she walks, back straight and shoulders squared in confidence but touched with a feminine grace.

When your eyes blink and reopen, he looks almost exactly like her.

“You took a long time to visit,” she admonishes him once he returns from storing away the fresh fruit he’d brought as gifts to sit beside you in the living room. Her tone is not exactly harsh but it’s not exactly teasing, and she doesn’t look at him while she speaks - she’s too focused on you. Before you can take the time to further dissect her sentence and decide if the tension you’re feeling in the air is imagined or not, she shifts gears.

“Is he good to you?” She asks you suddenly, her eyes that are his not leaving yours as she brings a cup of perfectly tepid tea to her lips.

It’s such a direct statement that you’re startled by it. It gets to the crux of your meeting without need for pleasantries; in fact, she hasn’t asked you anything past your name, and you wonder if it’s because she doesn’t care, if she plans to ask later or if Wakatoshi has told her all she needed to know about you.

You immediately eke out a “Yes, of course,” however, because it’s true. He is good to you. He’s been nothing but good to you for the past couple of years, and even though you’ve only been dating officially for the past year, he’s promised you he will continue to be this way for as long as he lives. It’s almost irresponsible that he says something so definitively, but you trust him with all your heart.

She seems satisfied with this answer because she smiles and sets her teacup on the table with barely a sound. “I’m glad.”

Her smile is like his too, you take note. When you turn to glance at Wakatoshi, he too is smiling down at you, filled to the brim with pride and affection.

---

The Ushijima family home had started off intimidating but had become warm, much like him, as time passed. That ease began with his mother relaxing out of a kneeling position into a seating position and finally asking you about yourself.

It turns out Wakatoshi had spoken to her about you, although some of her details were incorrect, and for with every clarification you ended up making, you could see his ears grow pinker and pinker by the second.

His mother, of course, didn’t notice, her eyes growing wide and nodding intently as you gave her more and more details about your life as though she were hearing things for the first time.

“I told you all these things, Mother,” he finally intercepted when he’d felt that the constant barrage of questions had started to overwhelm you, although it seemed he was the one being overwhelmed by the exchange between you two.

You gave him a glance in surprise, as did she, and then she nodded, folding her hands together, the stiffness and extreme formality returning slightly to her demeanor. It made you a little upset, the way she seemed to retreat back into her shell, and you pouted ever so slightly at him.

Picking up on your pout, his mother finally teased, “Wakatoshi-kun’s always been serious like that, ever since he was a child.”

It was a bit ironic to see this very poised woman also call her son ‘serious’, but you smiled weakly in response, reaching over to hold his hand.

There you noticed again that he was stiff even if his face was unreadable as always. For a split second, you wondered if there was a flash of resentment you saw in his features, but you decided that that too, you had imagined.

“I suppose I can show you some childhood photos. That’s what’s normally done at meetings like this, is that not so?”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose and whisked out of the room, leaving you and Toshi to each other.

Once she was out of earshot, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“She’s very nice, Toshi, you should have brought me sooner,” you whispered with a soft playful pat on his shoulder. He didn’t offer much but a soft hmph in response, so instead you scanned the room, taking in the sparse decorations in the living room.

Most of the decor was traditional and minimalistic and separating from Wakatoshi, you gravitated towards a display case in the corner. As expected, trophies and ribbons from his matches were proudly shown here along with other trinkets and knick-knacks.

What surprised you was a picture slightly tucked away in the corner of Wakatoshi, much smaller, smiling and clearly as carefree as any well-affirmed child would be, resting comfortably on the shoulders of a then-young man with a matching grin. Next to them was his mother, also younger, her hair loose and flowing, unlike the semi-neat bun she wore today, and just as genuinely happy as they were. Her arms wrapped affectionately around the man you presumed to be Ushijima’s father, and her eyes were almost closed, squinting cheerfully in the bright sun.

They looked so happy, you remarked. Even if it was in the past, it was a nice memory to be brought to the forefront, not something to be stashed away.

Unconsciously you reached for it for a closer look, not realizing your boyfriend was behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I found the album,” His mother announced, peeling your attention away from the snapshot in time. You still had the picture in your hands when you quickly went back to sit, and jokingly, you pointed out:

“I think I found a good one already!”

His mother took one glance and for a split second, you could see her placid demeanor break, but then she let out a soft chuckle without further comment, instead opening the heavy photo album to gush about her perfect son.

---

The short-lived shaken expression on once-Mrs. Ushijima’s face haunted you longer than you expected, and you found that you were still thinking about it long after you had left the home and were back home with your lover.

“Toshi,” you finally ventured to ask, now under the cover of night as you lay in bed together just moments before sleeping. He moved ever so slightly, his heavy arm shifting from draped over your shoulder to over your midsection to make it easier for you to turn to face him, which you did promptly in the dark. “Did your mother ever consider getting remarried?”

“I don’t think so.”

You paused, carefully choosing your next words. You wanted to ask him if what you’re sensing, he’s sensed, this very small bit of remorse that you picked up. Maybe it was too much to assume, so instead you end up saying nothing.

He picked up on your need to say more and interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your arm up so that he could press the back of your hand to his lips.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not upset about them, not at all. Besides, step-siblings might have made things complicated.”

What you wanted to ask was, does your mother regret it?

---

A year and a half later, in sunny California, you’re seated side-by-side with your Toshi and before you is a smiling man who looks every bit as cheerful as the man who carried his son on his shoulders in that single image burned in your memory.

Again, you realize Ushijima favors his father.

Admittedly, not as much as his mother, but you still see him in the broadness of his hands, the animated and focused way in which he talks about work, in the way he listens intently to your every word, although his eyes aren’t as sharp as Ushijima and his mother’s - they’re soft, round and brown and they’re surrounded by the beginnings of crow’s feet.

Ushijima is noticeably more relaxed around his father, you note, but the same bit of tension fills the warm air when Mr. Utsui asks you when the wedding is.

“We haven’t decided yet,” he cuts in, speaking for you now even though you had reached a steady pattern of conversation with his father. You’re a little bit annoyed at the curt way he interjects, but especially at the fact that he does this, when you’ve been not so subtly talking about marriage for a couple months now.

In fact, it’s when you shift from talking about your future together in grand terms (let’s buy a house, let’s have three kids, maybe a dog) and instead specifically bringing up when to be wed that you realize he cares more about his parents’ failed marriage then he lets on.

A ring didn’t stop them from separating, he insists. To you, it sounds initially like I don’t know if I want to marry you, but you know in the depth of your heart that he would choose you over himself any day.

But the concept of marriage itself bothers him and while you sympathize with him, it’s hard for you to let go of the idea of a ring, a pretty white dress, and taking his name.

It’s with that same premise that he’s visibly irritated by his father’s abrupt joke, and you and Mr. Utsui are both taken aback when you see the visibly irritated expression on his face, but his dad laughs loudly to defuse the situation.

“Jumping the gun there, aren’t I?” he says, reaching across the table to affectionately pat his son’s shoulder. “You just look so comfortable together! In fact, it reminds me of your mother and I back in the day.”

The statement meant to palliate him makes the situation all the more precarious.

Really, it’s careless the way his father says it so easily, and you can see the comment has hit something deep inside your Toshi by the very slight tension you see in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow. It’s as though, in a single sentence, his father has both denied his childhood pains and plainly uttered a curse onto your relationship, and Wakatoshi won’t allow it.

“Please refrain from comparing us to the two of you in any way from now on.”

His words are controlled, precise and seething, and you wince reflexively. The sugary sweet, half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of you no longer seems appetizing, but you pick off a blueberry with your fork and eat it to give you something to do while your heart pounds.

What will his father say in his defense?

“You’re right,” Takashi says - he wants you to call him by his first name because you are important to his son - with an understanding nod, his eyes still kind despite the fact that his son’s look is almost menacing, even if he doesn’t intend to be.

“You’re not at all like us.”

---

In the quiet aftermath of the tense brunch date, you finally decided to give up on the idea of a wedding.

You could argue that there was always therapy, but you weren’t sure to what extent the old wounds inflicted so early and so neatly tucked away could be healed with talk and introspection. No longer were they simply wounds but reminders of the following:

Marriages fail. Love doesn’t always last.

You inched a little closer to him as you walked together on the beach through the night, unsure if your increased need for closeness was related to the chill of the small breeze picking up from the waves or because you were starting to wonder if Ushijima’s father was wrong.

What if you were the same? What if you did end up like them? Thousands of miles apart, with uncomfortable painful memories of each other and a son who repressed his resentment… There was no way to know, was there?

You stopped suddenly, your heels digging into the sand as you broke the pregnant silence between you two.

“Toshi,” you murmured softly. Still holding your hand, he turned to face you, his eyebrows just slightly raised as he watched you in the moonlight.

“I won’t talk about marriage anymore. I get it now,” you finally decided, your voice wavering ever so slightly unlike your steadfast resolve.

He looked into your eyes, again trying to parse out what you were feeling from the slight knit in your eyebrows and the very slight tremor in your hands.

“It’s cold,” he replied simply, taking off his hoodie and putting it around you. “Here.”

You frowned as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, your hands curling into tight fists. If you were going to bend like this, he should at least acknowledge you!

“It’s still important to me, and I think we would be different, but I understand your feelings,” you insisted, staying in place.

He had to give you something, anything. It wasn’t selfish to ask for a little bit of credit, was it?

You saw him flash a small smile, then lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek. Before pulling back, he let out a small laugh, the first since hours earlier.

“You don’t want to get married anymore, sweetheart?” He teased, his arms rubbing up and down your shoulders, and your frown grew deeper. This was an odd time for one of his jokes.

“I’m being serious!” Your voice came out whinier than expected, to the point that you were almost embarrassed, but it only made his smile grow wider.

His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, making sure that all you could see was him, speaking sincerely to you under the night sky.

“That’s too bad because I bought a ring.”

Your heart stopped.

But then it restarted, and instead of shivers, a new warmth seemed to run throughout your entire body with every new beat in your chest.

“W-what?”

“I want to marry you.”

I want to marry you. The words seemed to bounce around your now empty head, making a ruckus you couldn’t exactly think through.

“But you said…?”

“I don’t need a ring to prove that I’ll love you forever, but if it’s important to you, I’ll work hard and buy you a ring for every single year we are together.”

He must have picked up the habit of saying careless and deliberate statements from his father because you were now choked up with tears that you couldn’t wipe away because your hands were too busy resting on his that held your emotional visage.

“T-Toshi…”

“We’ll be different from my parents, ____, I swear.”

You felt as though your heart would burst, so all you could do was nod. It didn’t help that his eyes seemed to shine far too much tonight as well. Was it just a trick of the moon or was he trying to convince himself too that he wouldn’t do you wrong?

“It’s true that I don’t have the ring on me, but I want to formally ask you today before I dare put a ring on your finger,

Will you marry me?”

Again you nodded, tears finally rolling down your cheeks in relief, because the answer had always been yes.

And you knew for sure, that the two of you would fight like hell to be happily married after.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #haikyuu imagine #sfw #fic: what we inherit #mae.writing

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years ago

Text

"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 10

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

Steam billowed from the kettle as Misha filled each cup with enormous, shaking hands. Amber curls flowed through the water, spreading, and reaching for him like liquid tongues from the deep mahogany depths. The colour only intensified as he spooned a generous heap of honey into his cup and he very nearly reached for the milk, a distant memory flickering before his eyes, one far warmer than reality and frighteningly easily to get lost in.

“Just a splash, bitte. You always put too much in… You’re too generous for your own good, Misha.”

He held himself for comfort, gazing into his reflected, distorted face in the well of the cup. He looked as though he had aged a thousand years, with tired eyes, cheerless lips, and deepened wrinkles. He stirred his tea, dispelling his grim reflection in favour of a dark, spinning swirl, creating an invitingly sweet aroma in the process, one that soothed his racing mind.

“How do you like tea?”

His guest, who had made himself at home at the dining table, looked up from his notes, his icy cobalt irises strikingly vivid against the maroon balaclava. “Black, thank you.”

He presented the cup on one of his prettier saucers, hoping it would be up to the other man’s standards – though he knew deep inside that it could never be, as told by the slight but unmistakably demeaning smirk on his lips. Misha took great care not to spill a single drop on the other man’s priceless suit, causing the ceramic to clink and clatter together, as if they too, were frightened of what was to come.

“Relax a little, mon ami.” He waved him off with a gloved hand, as if to dismiss his nerves from service. “I understand the nature of my profession is enough to make even a man like you nervous, but please, you have paid me handsomely. I have no intention of harming you, or insulting your tableware for that matter, though it is a touch garish.”

“I am not scared of you, little René.” He was well aware that wasn’t his real name – a man like him wouldn’t give away such valuable information willingly – but he used it to be polite. “I worry about what you found.” He explained, taking a seat opposite to him. The chair creaked under his weight, and he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on it. “You understand. I have been waiting every day for news about Joseph. Some things… I do not want to hear.”

“…You fear that he is dead.” The assassin said exactly what was on his mind without any care for sparing his feelings.

Misha gave a solemn nod, willing himself not to show the ache in his heart.

René reached into his coat pocket, popping open a cigarette case and placing a cigar between his lips with habitual finesse before remembering his manners. “Do you mind if I have a cigar?”

“Is okay.” Misha reassured, though he despised the smell.

He flicked open a lavish lighter, one with gold accents and a serpent carved into its body. The flame graced the tip of his cigar and the end glowed, releasing a proud puff of smoke. He inhaled, closing his eyes as he savoured the sensation, unwittingly drawing attention to his long lashes.

He exhaled with the dignity of a king and searched through a different pocket, this time procuring a black envelope with damask patterning. René peeled it open with ease, not tearing even an inch of the paper, revealing a neatly sorted collection of photographs inside, all of which had been numbered.

“In this envelope, I have included all of the evidence I have gathered thus far.” He plucked the first of many out and slid it over to Misha.

The Russian reluctantly scooped the polaroid up, swallowing down the horrid thoughts encircling his mind like opportunistic vultures. It was a snapshot of Joseph’s apartment, or more accurately, its rotten corpse. Books lied open, dishes remained dirty, the curtains wide open and food decomposing on the table. Small bugs had infested the room, feeding and breeding in the leftovers. He could only imagine the smell. Misha shuddered, unnerved by the picture.

In his minds eye, he could picture a body, grey and bloated, with fog laden blue eyes. He shook the image away, promising himself like he did every other damned day that Joseph was still alive and maybe even finding his way back home.

“Believe it or not, Misha, this is a good thing.” The assassin tried to reassure him, though coming from him, it sounded practiced, artificial, even.

“How? This is… very bad. Joseph is very neat man.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette and wordlessly handed him the next photograph.

A foul, cold pang rippled through his chest as he read the label, written in flowing cursive: Admirateur. The photograph focused on a tall vase of dead flowers in the entryway, something Joseph never bought, often regarding them as a waste of money. In the rows of dead, brown decay, a white card shone like a jewel, and he resisted the urge to snap the table in two and scream. Without prompting, he outstretched his palm to accept the following photo, which had masterfully captured the writing on the card.

Joseph,

The sickeningly sweet words of adoration crawled under his skin, their meanings too perverse to stand. The perfectly neat, evenly spaced letters only worsened the sick churn of his guts. Misha had seen neat handwriting in his time, but no person could write like this.

He swallowed thickly, feeling as though he was about to throw up. “Someone was buying him flowers?”

“Oh, more than just flowers.” René chuckled, oddly amused by this. “Seeing as you paid me so well, I did you the service of rifling through your friend’s garbage. His admirer bought him drinks, cards and even a few personalised sweets, things that were not necessarily a safe bet, but he knew he would like them. Do you see what I am getting at?”

“What is the point of this… secret admirer?” He cocked an eyebrow, failing to understand how this was a good thing.

“Misha,” He said in a haughty manner, almost scolding him for failing to connect the dots. “Joseph was being stalked by someone who was how shall I put it, madly and utterly in love with him. Almost as much as you are, non?”

Misha turned red up to the ears and chose not to respond to that.

“This is further corroborated by the evidence I discovered around the home.” He handed him several photos, one of an opened luggage bag full of clothes, including singlets, flannel shirts, overalls, shoes, thick work socks, and some gloves. “You may have noticed that these clothes are very unlike your friend’s choice of dress. They are also several sizes too small, suggesting we are dealing with a person of a short, stocky build, likely a man.”

The next showed another assortment of things, and at first, he cocked his head, puzzled. “What is this for? It is Joseph’s things.”

“Indeed, they are Joseph’s things.” René agreed. “But look carefully. His unwanted guest was hoarding them. I believe it was a compulsion of his, something he could not resist doing whenever there was an opportunity for it.”

“I don’t understand why this is important. Tell me what happened now, little man.”

René took another drag, chuckling to himself. “Patience, Misha. We are almost there. I would prefer that you have the full picture before we move on.”

He was handed several more pictures, this time of Joseph’s bedroom. The closet doors had been swung ajar, the bed unmade as if he had just gotten up and the wall phone hung from its slot, dangling from the cord and in the display were two numbers – an incomplete call. One picture was different to the rest, a close up of the wall and the carpet below, which had been stained a dark, purplish colour.

Blood.

He paled, forcefully turning the photograph over, in hopes of unseeing it, though he never would. He waited for the Frenchman to tell him the news he had been dreading for so very long now, bracing himself as though he was about to be shot.

But only a calm breath passed between them.

“I believe your friend was attacked in this room while attempting to call the authorities.” René leant over and tapped the shiny surface of the polaroid. “I assume that his admirer was discovered, and, in a panic, he resorted to attacking Joseph to keep him quiet.” His lashes fluttered, seamlessly remembering every detail. “Judging by the blood spatter, it was a single strike by a blunt object and not a particularly hard one, meaning our assailant did not intend to kill him.”

Misha realised that he had been holding his breath and he finally released it in a long, relieved exhale. “He is okay?”

“I cannot promise anything, but I have reason to believe that he is alive. Knocking your dear friend unconscious would be an excellent opportunity to abduct him, non?” He picked through the envelope, finding the next, but he hesitated, deciding not to give it to Misha just yet. “If it is any consolation, I have been hired for many situations like this and in my experience, this breed of delusional individuals are unlikely to kill the object of their obsession.”

“Unlikely…” Misha sipped at his drink, hoping the sweetness would help him to relax. “Is still possible?”

“In the rare cases where it does happen, they only kill their lovers if they refuse to play their role in their sickening fantasy.” He raised air quotes, his nose scrunching in disgust. “You said that your friend was—is an intelligent man, did you not? He would have learned to play along… eventually.”

“He is also very independent man.” Misha squeezed his hands together for emphasis. “He doesn’t like being told what to do, not even by me. Might be problem.”

The spy swished the tea in his cup, taking a modest sip. “I hope for his sake that he learned to behave.”

“Do you know where he took Joseph?”

“That,” René raised a finger. “I still need to find out.” His gaze softened, though it did not suit his angular, cruel face. “Don’t look so glum, I do have some good news.”

“You do?”

He fetched what looked to be a small stack of folded paper, tied together with a tasteful ribbon, almost like a gift. “Joseph originally thought that you were his secret admirer.” He handed the package to him. “He never quite finished his letters, but I think you will appreciate them nonetheless.”

He clutched the paper tightly, gently stroking the soft ribbon, its pristine surface appearing miniscule in his grasp. He wiped his eyes, not wanting to sob in front of him. He couldn’t muster the strength to read them now, not like this. He would wait until the dead of night, when his pillows were already soaked with his tears and his body trembling from the pain of it all. That way, it couldn’t hurt any more. Maybe then, Joseph’s sentimental words could wrap around him in the dark and heal his wounds.

“Thank you, René. This means very much.”

“Don’t thank me, you might just make me feel guilty for taking your money.” He snorted a little. “Ah, who am I kidding. I deserve it, especially after what I found.”

He fell for the other man’s bait, as obvious and prideful as it was. “What did you find?” He asked quickly, desperate to know.

“Look at this, it is… excellent.”

By now, the photographs in the envelope were running thin. A reproduction of a set of fingerprints was pressed into his palm, with each finger labelled in French.

“What is so good about fingerprints?” He scoffed, examining those belonging to the right hand first, some of which were incomplete or smudged.

He ended up eating those words as he looked to the prints from the left hand. His eyes widened and he brought the photo closer, examining the almost non-existent smears and marks, which only bore a few indents and scratch like patterns, He sputtered in Russian, in awe of this turn of good fortune.

To his surprise, René understood him. “You’re right, mon ami, your luck is astonishing. Mine, not so much, seeing as this cuts our business together rather short. In most cases I would be doing far more digging to whittle down our potential suspects, but I would say a prosthesis is rather unique, wouldn’t you?” He tapped the ash of his cigar into the saucer. “I have done my research and none of our existing consumer grade models come close to this. This one appears to be one of a kind.” He smirked. “On the back, I sketched what I believe our suspect’s prosthesis to look like, based on impressions, prints and what he used it for around the house.”

Misha froze entirely upon seeing the clean, tidy sketch, his mind cycling back to the last time he’d seen Joseph. At first, only silver eyes appeared to him, their gaze intense with bitter, burning jealousy. Then, he saw it – the newspaper, or more importantly, the advanced robotic hand effortlessly clasping it. He remembered it simply because he never seen anything like it, and of course, because he’d caught Joseph glancing at it.

“I met this man.” He breathed out, wishing he had only known. “I need his name.”

“Now this, I am proud of.” René grinned, straightening his tie. “He is an elusive little rodent, which is ironic because—”

“—His name.”

“Will you let me finish?” He hissed, glaring at him.

“Hurry.”

“As I was saying, it is ironic because he is a brilliant inventor.” He reclined in his seat and smiled, revealing the crow’s feet by his eyes. “He is the genius mind behind many of our modern appliances, tools, weapons and even our newest, most luxurious tech, such as my equipment.” He boastfully tapped his watch, showing it off. “He prefers to remain faceless, nameless. As far as the public is aware, he doesn’t even exist.”

René reminded him of a cat with the way he endlessly preened his own image. Misha sat back and endured it; his arms crossed with impatience.

“But you see, well placed coin does wonders to loosen the lips of even the most loyal men. It didn’t take long to find him with the right questions, and of course, the appropriate connections.” He snuffed out his cigar, marking the end of their time together for today. “His name is Dell Conagher. Remember it.”

Misha nodded, forcing himself to attach a name to the monster haunting his dreams, granting it even more power.

The assassin downed the last of his tea. “Ah… there is one last matter to resolve before I leave today, Misha, being my payment for how shall I put it… a thorough search for Joseph, seeing as we have established that he is likely still alive and the identity of his captor.” He rose from his seat, dusting off his suit with his hands. “Of course, I will assess whether or not a rescue will be possible.”

“And if not?”

“You know what happens.” He said coldly, his expression startlingly serious. “And it will not be cheap.”

Next Chapter

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aubreyprc · 3 years ago

Text

safe in these arms of mine

prompt - you’re safe . i’m here

summary - emily gets taken by their recent unsub, someone they named the three day killer. they know they have three days to find her, aaron refuses to let them get to four.

word count - 3.3k

TW / mentions of torture (not graphic), alluded / implied hint of SA (not graphic or mentioned)

He thinks he’s probably watched the CCTV footage more times than he’s ever watched anything, rewinding certain moments in hopes of something that will give them a clue, something that will tell them where she is. who he is. anything.

Watching her drop to the ground, even after seeing it hundreds of times, still makes his heart fall into his stomach, the sight of the man picking her up over his shoulders, carrying her like she was dead weight. like she was nothing still making him feel sick, still making him feel guilty. not that he could ever tell anyone why. Not that he can really act on how terrified he is.

To everyone else’s knowledge, they’re colleagues, friends, just like he is with the rest of the team. He can be worried, they’re all worried, all scared of what could happen, all nauseous at the idea of what she could be going through, but he can’t be anything more. Because to everyone else’s knowledge, they're just friends but in reality, behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, FBI policy’s and fraternization rules, they’re something. They’re more than something.

What started off as casual, turned into coffee and coffee soon turned into dinner, dinner soon turned into staying the night and four months later in the darkness of her bedroom, his fingers tracing patterns on her spine as she lay in his arms, the three words slipped out of his mouth… and ten seconds later she repeated them, a soft smile on her face. a smile he has never forgotten.

A smile he would kill to see again.

They’re eight months in now, getting to the point where keeping them a secret was becoming impossible, Jack far too young and unpredictable to not blurt out something that would cause the penny to drop.

As he watches the footage for the millionth time, the guilt is almost overwhelming, his palms cut to pieces from how harsh he is clenching a fist. He knows if they don’t find her, that if day three comes and they still don’t have a location, that he’d never forgive himself, he wouldn’t know how to. He wouldn’t want to.

He was supposed to be with her.

Jack was with a friend, and they’d had plans to stay at her apartment, order take out and just be without a four year old demanding their attention for most of the night. But they’d argued. A stupid argument. So stupid that he can’t even remember what started it, or what it was even about. All he remembers is her bitter laugh before she walked out of his office, all but slamming the door behind her as she walked back into the bullpen and grabbed her stuff, he remembers watching her go, remembers telling himself that he’d call her when he got home, or maybe he would go over, make it up to her.

He prays he still gets the chance to. Prays that the last memory he has of her… of them… won’t be her walking away from him in anger. That their last conversation won’t be something he can’t even remember.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep watching that.” Dave tells him as he walks into the office, “it won’t bring her back. It won’t give you any more information.”

Aaron remains silent, his eyes peeled on the screen, her facing in the direction of the unsub, her face in full view of the camera.

“Reid has something on the unsub…” he says, but Aaron can’t bring himself to hear it. “I know this is hard but—”

“You don’t know.” he says, turning to face his friend, “you don’t know.” he repeats and the older man nods.

“You’re right. I don’t.” he accepts, before staring at him, “but I know you love her.” he says and Aaron’s eyes widen, “and I know she loves you. And I know she’s counting on us.. on you to focus, to put our feelings and our fear on hold and find her.”

“I can’t even think about what she could be going—”

“Then don’t.” he tells him, “don’t think. Help her. Help her by doing what you can. Here. Now.”

Aaron nods, standing and following the man out of the office and into the briefing room.

They all refuse to go home, refuse to waste time when she has so little of it, refuse to do anything but find her, the thought of what she could be going through knocking every single one of them sick.

The entire building feels eerie, everyone on egg shells around the team, scared to say the wrong thing, scared to say anything. Everyone loved Emily, and her absence noticeable at any time, and so the entire situation has the bullpen in silence, the only sound being the muttering of the agents on the case as they work alongside the team to find their missing member. Their missing friend.

They all know what this unsub does, have all read the case files, seen the pictures of the women he’d taken and killed over the last few weeks, have heard in detail what he does to them before hand, and it becomes the elephant in the room, every single person knowing exactly what Emily was going through, knowing far too much about what could happen if they don’t find her, but no one ever says anything, no one comments, no one even brings it up, because they can’t. The knowing itself is enough, they shouldn’t have to talk about it too.

Aaron is the only one who tortures himself by looking at the other cases, reading over what they went through before he killed them, how he killed them, and what he did to them afterwards. It’s the same every time, the same marks and bruises on each woman they found, all killed the same way around the same time and all found in the same place, beaten, bloody and cold, all with signs of a struggle, as if he’d toyed with them, given them to opportunity to fight him off… each woman died in pain, alone and scared, and the idea that Emily might go through that, the fact that he could be doing to her what he did to all the others makes him nauseous, it makes him murderous but mostly it just makes him want to scream, cry, shout, and he can do neither, not yet, not when he still has the chance to get her back. Not when there’s hope that he can save her.

And he will. He has to. Loosing her is not an option.

“Stop.” Morgan says as he enters his office, “reading the files won’t change this. If anything it will just make it worse.”

“There could—”

“Reid has the files memorised…” he says, “there’s nothing in there.”

He closes the file, rubbing a hand over his face as he leans on the chair.

“How is he this hidden?” he asks, “we’ve been trying to find him for three weeks and all we have is that he’s male, in his thirties and…” he stops, shaking his head as he thinks about what he does to the women he takes.

“I know.” he nods, “but we’ll find him.”

“Will we find him in time?” he asks, the silence between them lingering as the other man remains without an answer.

“We can only try.” he tells him, “and trust that she’s strong enough to wait until we do.” he says softly, before leaving the office.

He sighs as he opens his draw, grabbing his wallet before pulling out a picture he hides behind one of Jack, a picture Penelope took just a few weeks ago when she just had to capture the moment as she stated on the email she forwarded the picture on. He smiles every time he looks at it, her grin sending warmth through him as he looks at it, the blissful happiness on their faces as they sit in their own bubble, his own smile on his face as he looks at her. He rubs a thumb over it, his heart aching in his chest as he swallows.

I’ll find you.

And they do. On day three.

They speed through the traffic, each of them tense with anxiety as they sit in the SUV, neither knowing what they’re going to walk into. If they’ll make it on time.

The warehouse is huge, the smell of blood, sweat and death hits them as soon as their in, each going in a different direction as they search for her. For him. For anything.

Aaron hears them before he sees them, leans against the wall as he calculates what his next move should be, signals for the team to head in his direction as he tries to block out the sound of her choking, dreads to think what he’s going to be met with when he turns the corner.

Reid and Morgan head his way first, are on the other side of the building when he spots them, and on his nod, all three man make themselves known, turning the corner with their guns out, but all can see is her. The way the only reason she is still standing being due to her arms being hung above her, her head lulled to the ground, no movement, not even a groan and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt panic like it before.

He has no intention to chase the man when he runs, grateful that the other two take off in a sprint after him, and he heads towards her.

He stands in front of her, heart hammering in his chest as terror fills his body and slowly cups her face, moving her head up to look at him and when he’s met with her tired, but open eyes, the relief that fills him is enough to make him want to cry. But the fear in her eyes, the sheer terror that stares back at him has him pushing it away, his focus on her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, quickly freeing her hands from the chains above her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he does, catching her as she all but falls into him, a soft cry leaving her throat as her arms drop, the only reason she doesn’t being that he has her, wraps her protectively into him and all she can do is look at him, shock, exhaustion, pain, terror and everything in between meaning it takes her a few moments to register what’s going on, to register that it’s Aaron but it’s obvious the moment she does. The look of terror turning into relief as she relaxes, letting him pull her into his arms and she goes willingly into them, her face in his chest as she breathes, tears threatening to fall down her face as she allows the last few days to process. There’s a bang from the other side of the room that causes her to flinch, to tense in fear and he runs a hand down her back.

“It’s okay..” his voice is soft, soothing and he smiles at her when she lifts her head to look at him. “You’re okay. It’s over.”

“Can we get out of here?” she asks, her voice dry and rough, a hint that she’s been without water for days and he nods.

“Of course.” he says, gently wrapping an arm around her waist as he helps her walk out of the room.

She gets the all clear from the hospital and is free to go that night, her ribs bruised but not broken, her arms strained but no damage to the ligaments, a concussion she might feel for a few days, but no bleed, no damage, is told she’s lucky, and she wants to scream, feeling anything but luck as she sits in the passenger seat, her mind replaying the last three days on a loop, the man’s face, voice, touch lingering with her, can feel his hands on her skin, can hear his voice as he toys with her, can see his face so clearly he might as well he sat next to her but she’s lucky, because he didn’t break her ribs, she’s lucky because he didn’t kill her, how does she explain that she wishes he did?

Aaron walks them up to her apartment, his hand around her waist as she uses him to hold herself up, a lump in the back of her throat as she tries to pretend as though she hasn’t spent the last three days tortured, laughed at, broken.

“I’ll go and run you a bath,” he says softly as he enters her apartment, she simply stands, her hand clinging to her throbbing ribs as she nods. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” she says with a tired smile, “I’m good. Tired.”

“Would you prefer a shower—”

“No,” she says quickly, before smiling as best she can, “A bath would be great.” she nods and he smiles, slowly walking over to her and waiting for her to lean into him before wrapping an arm around her waist, helping her up the stairs as she winces in pain. He’d do anything to take it from her. For it to have been him instead.

He sits on the floor next to the bath at her request, stroking gentle patterns onto her hand as she stares ahead and he waits, knowing she has to be the one to talk first, knowing he can’t rush this.

“The last woman you found… she couldn’t have been older than twenty.” she says, her eyes still staring ahead of her.

“Yeah..” he whispers, “found her just before we…” he stops, “you saw her?”

“He killed her right in front of me…” she says, turning to look at him, “she was begging me to help her, I could hear her crying but…” she stops, looks away from him.

“There’s nothing you could have done, Em.” he tells her, “you know that. It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t answer, simply continues to stare at the wall ahead. He wants to ask, he needs to, but he doesn’t know how. Isn’t sure he wants to know. He’ll have to read the police report anyway, sign off on her being back on duty in a few weeks and he wonders if that might be easier. To read it rather than hear it, but he also knows he needs to hear it from her, needs to let her be the one to tell him, tell him what, he isn’t sure.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asks her gently, smiling softly when she turns to face him, “I’m not leaving,” he tells her, “but if you want some space tonight, if you want some time to work through this, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She smiles slightly, linking their fingers together as they rest on the side of the bath and she slowly shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be alone.” she whispers, and he nods.

“I’m here,” he tells her. “Whenever you’re ready to talk… I’m here.”

“I know.” she says, “I’m exhausted.”

“Come on.” he says, getting to his feet with a groan that makes her laugh slightly, before he helps her up, wrapping her in a towel before walking them towards the bed. He hands her an old jumper, one that nine months ago, used to belong to him, and a pair of joggers, kissing her head slightly.

“I’ll grab some water, I’ll be right back.” he tells her and she nods, watches him go as she takes a deep breath, focuses on getting into the clothes rather than the silence, rather than the memories of the last few days.

By the time he’s back she’s already in bed, her eyes staring at a spot of the wall across the room as she curls into the duvet and his heart breaks when the creek of the floor makes her jump.

He places the water on her bedside table, runs a gentle finger across her cheek as he passes her and gets himself in bed, turns to face her when she rolls over, taking her hand gently when she rests it on his chest, smiling when he links their fingers.

“Derek said you kept reading the other women’s files.” she says softly, he looks at her and nods. “He pretty much stuck to the script.” she tells him, looking from him to their hands. “I wish you didn’t read them.” she whispers, tracing his fingers with her own.

“When your ready to tell me, I’ll listen.” he says, “I’ll wait for you to tell me.”

“You’ll read the report before—”

“I’ll wait for you to tell me.” he whispers; she nods.

“Okay.” she whispers, “thank you.”

“Get some rest,” he tells her, “I’m right here.”

She smiles before she leans up to kiss him, wrapping herself around him as she inhales, the scent of him calming her, the feeling of safely taking ahold of her as she sighs, closing her eyes.

“I love you.” she whispers as he kisses her head and he smiles.

“I love you too.” he tells her, and waits until shes asleep before allowing himself to fall asleep too.

It’s barley been three hours when her scream jolts him awake. He sits up instantly, terror taking over as he registers what woke him and he turns, slowly reaching out to cup her face as she cries in her sleep, completely taken over by a nightmare, by a memory, by fear.

“Emily,” he whispers, trying to wake her carefully. “Em, sweetheart. Wake up.” he says a little louder, tapping her face gently as she gasps, her eyes opening instantly and she sits up, hyperventilating as she cries, a hand on her chest as she struggles to breathe and he holds her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, “just breathe. It’s okay.” he soothes, a gentle hand on her back. Her breathing evens out pretty quickly but her tears do not, her entire body shaking with fear as he holds her close.

“You’re safe now,” he tells her, lifting her face to wipe her tears as she looks at him. “I’m here.” he says, “You’re safe.”

He slowly lays them back down, wrapping his arms around her when she clings onto him, resting herself in his arms.

“I love you.” she mutters as she slowly breathes, allowing herself to succumb to sleep.

“I love you too.” he whispers. “You’re safe. I’m here.” he repeats, hoping it soothes her, hoping she feels safe with him.

It’s obvious she does when she doesn’t wake until late that next afternoon and goes searching for him as soon as she realises he’s not next to her.

She finds him on the couch and heads towards him, smiling as she sits next to him and rests her head on his chest, relaxing the minute his arms wrap around her.

“You weren’t in bed.” she mumbles as she closes her eyes.

“I’m right here.” he whispers, “I’ll always be here.” he promises, and he smiles when she mumbles a small I know, before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

#hotchniss fic #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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tartagliaxx · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! I recently found your blog from your Albedo + lavender work! Your writing is so beautiful. Can I request Albedo + Carnations since they were mentioned in the lavender work? Please and thank you so much <3

“ ALBEDO + CARNATION ”

━━ ☆ PAIRING: albedo/reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: fluff

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: carnation | love, pride, admiration, affection

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: none

2:12 am

albedo knew the patterns of your floorboards very well. he knew which ones were safe to step on and which ones make a sound when pressed with weight. he also knew he had to walk exactly twelve steps and a half before taking a sharp right to avoid bumping into your couch. he knew all these because late nights in his office were far from a rare occurrence. by the time he decides to go home, mondstadt's streets are bare and silent, missing even the incessant whines of the drunkards in alleyways near the taverns.

quietly slipping into the kitchen, albedo huffed in amusement as he eyed the sandwiches wrapped in cling film, just beside it is a messy doodle of angry you with your arms crossed as you yelled in bold, uppercase letters 'eat and go to sleep!!!'

it was relieving to know that you didn't attempt to stay up and wait for him this time. while your day starts later than his, it was still relatively early and he'd hate to be the source of your lethargy. on one hand, there was a selfish part of him that desired your immediate attention — and perhaps, an inner longing to fall asleep at the same time, hands linked together in sleep.

7:26 am

you sleep without albedo by your side and you wake up in a similar state. the only difference is that his side of the bed was softly rumpled, a telling sign that, thank god, albedo actually bothered to sleep this time.

humming a soft tune, you slowly peeled the linen sheets off you to hopefully start the morning right. his missing warmth was often a source of disappointment but it wasn't something you thought about too much. sure, brushing your teeth side by side or making breakfast together sounded like a delight but you knew him. albedo was nothing if not dedicated and it was his passion that drew you in like a moth to a flame. now that you were here, who are you to complain?

instead of worrying about his lack of presence, you preferred to worry about his missed meals and concerning sleeping schedule. it was your way of support and you knew that albedo was very grateful for your concern, the living proof being the carnation that was placed on the dining table, the same spot you left yesternight's sandwiches. beside it was a note written in his beautiful cursive that read a simple 'thank you.'

it was tradition, almost, for you to leave him a small midnight snack and for him to offer a single pink carnation as thanks, plate long washed with hot water boiled for your morning cup of drink.

the familiar scent of the carnation — faintly resembling that of sugar and cloves — hit your nose and you took the moment to wonder if albedo had a secret stash of carnations in your apartment. shaking your head, you moved deeper into the kitchen to brew your drink, carnation added into the overfilled vase just near the corner.

9:07 am

albedo wakes up fifteen minutes earlier than necessary to walk to flora's shop and purchase the carnations. the young florist already in the know of his habit, keeps the freshest of the batch for him. he perfectly times it so that on the way back, your favorite bakery has already opened up. he'll buy that day's pick, knowing that every single item in that shop was one that you liked and finally, he goes back home.

he'll carefully move past your furniture, putting the carnation in place before leaving the house to go to work. he keeps the bread with him because he knew you. you'd always come to check up on him before you start that day's errands, carrying some breakfast to share but somehow always missing the bread.

as if on cue, the familiar knocking pattern you made to announce your arrival echoed in his room. sometimes, sucrose and timaeus would tag along and eat with you but today, he was alone and he couldn't find it in him to hate the small voice in his mind that celebrated that.

"good morning." you returned the greeting with a bright smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before you busied yourself with the paper bag you held.

"oh shoot! the bread—" "they were selling sonnenblumenbrot today."

you blinked before falling into a fit of laughter — your voice reverberating against the walls and albedo was convinced that if he died right there and then, he would've died a happy man.

"thanks for saving breakfast. again."

with an amused chuckle, albedo handed you your slice of the bread. "always."

10:45 am

as much as you wanted to stay, you had things to do and so did he. shortly after wrapping things up, you said your goodbyes, making promises of having lunch together just so you could see each other again. knowing him, he wouldn't be able to meet you for dinner so you made do.

"oh! you're here! i got the groceries you ordered last time in the back. hang on for one moment."

you sent a grateful smile to blanche before turning to margaret and eury who approached you out of nowhere. it wasn't rare for them to chat you up when running some errands and they weren't bad company either.

"look at you! you're glowing today!"

you rolled your eyes at margaret who was starting to gush over you and barbatos knows how long that usually takes, "that's a very weird way of saying i'm sweaty."

"not that, you doofus! i'm saying you look bright! like very happy! you tell them, eury!"

"i mean, yeah, i see it. it's like that youthful glow you get when you're young and in love with no care for where you're going as long as you're with that person."

"oh, dear. don't go all sappy on me now." margaret laughed, thoroughly amused at your playful quip while eury only stared at you as if saying 'really now?'

"what i think eury was saying is, you must be in a very, very good place with mr. kreideprinz."

you groaned, shifting to send a weak glare to the shop's attendant. "not you too, blanche."

"hey, don't get mad at me, i'm just stating facts!"

"see!"

the trio looked at you with poorly hidden mischief and you took that as a sign to run away. it never turns out well when they start looking at you as if you were a fine piece of gossip.

"drop by cat's tail and tell me some sweet, sweet stories from time to time!"

now nestled in one of the more quiet corners of the library, you were relieved to know that you actually managed to escape questioning. you swear, those three are worse than the knights' official interrogator. swiftly cracking open the book you just borrowed a day ago, you were surprised to see a rosette piece of paper with a detailed image of a carnation, shaded slightly to show tones of deep red.

a skip in your heart, a pool of heat by your cheekbones, a giddy smile. when did he have the time to slip this in? averting your eyes from the book, your eyes caught your reflection in one of the glass display shelves.

now that you thought about it, you supposed you could see it too.

1:13 pm

you always showed up around three to five minutes late to your lunch dates purely for the reason that albedo comes around seven to ten minutes late. rather than waiting for him and having the food go cold, you figured that you might as well finish just one last chapter.

in truth, albedo has only been late once, that was on your first lunch date and he swore to never do it again when you looked so scared thinking he wasn't going to come. after explaining the situation which involved sucrose, a fire, and a missing test subject, you eased up and began laughing.

the next date, you were a few minutes late so he stood up from his seat and began looking for you just in case something happened. he bumps into lisa who told him of your whereabouts. retracing his steps, he finds you in the chair he was previously sat on, already having ordered your meal for that noon.

it was a misunderstanding he never bothered to correct finding out that being 'late' meant you'll get to pick whatever it is that you want and that he had more time to ask sara to exchange the flowers on the table for the few carnations he had leftover from his visit to flora.

"there you are!"

he waved at you as he approached the table, teal eyes softening as you beamed at him, telling him all about the food that you ordered especially this 'secret menu item' that you were certain he'd love.

"by the way," you met his gaze before swiftly moving it to the light red carnations on the table. "are these from you?"

he didn't reply but the smile that he tried to hide as he drank from his glass was enough of an answer for you.

5:31 pm

back home at long last, you haphazardly threw your coat away, choosing to pick it up later after you're finished with your 'recharge period' over the couch. briefly cracking your eyes open, the first thing that you saw was the bouquet of handpicked carnations timaeus shyly gave you, muttered words of 'we were out on an investigation when we came across a field of carnations. albedo asked me to give this to you because he's suddenly dragged into a meeting.'

biting your lip, you tried your best not to show that you felt exactly like a teenager in love would but you supposed that you were slightly different. albedo was a genius and he was definitely smart enough to know the meanings deeply hidden behind each petal of every flower. albedo picked carnations for a reason and it was a reason you held gingerly in your heart.

he wasn't the type to mutter you good nights partnered with sweet i love yous nor was he the type to scream out his complete and utter devotion to you from the top of the statue in the cathedral. in fact, it was not an overstatement to say that he doesn't say 'i love you' at all. he does, however, leave a trail of carnations — whose meaning lies in between gratitude, love, and affection — in his wake. places he goes to, places you go to. it's everywhere and anywhere.

you knew albedo. you knew each crevice of his heart and each corner of his soul. you knew him and you hear him loud and clear when he says 'i love you' every moment he could through the flowers he knew you loved.

━━ ☆ NOTES: thank you so much for dropping by!! i hope this is to your liking as well! <3 view the rest of the event shorts here! 💐

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years ago

Text

A Shoulder to Lean On [Preath x Daughter!Reader]

requested by anon: More preath with daughter!reader? Something a little angsty where the reader came from a toxic home and can’t communicate her feelings very well with them and they’re worried about her a lot. And she finally feels safe enough to tell them she’s not been doing well mentally and they comfort her.

A/N: hope everyone had a happy holidays and a happy new year!! after a much much needed break, here’s some writing! lol it’s pretty long but i hope y’all enjoy it :)

warnings: mention and brief description of abuse, mention of bullying, slight swearing

“You ready, kiddo?” Tobin asks, as she rolls her suitcase to the front door of the apartment.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I still don’t see why I have to go with you guys. I’m old enough to stay at home alone, and I’ve done it before.”

“You know why.” Christen gives you a stern glare, reminding you of the exact reason, as you roll your eyes.

A couple days ago, you had gotten into a fight at school. One of the guys in your class had been picking on you, calling you names, hitting you, and asking why your moms would adopt anyone like you, not that you’d told Tobin or Christen any of this.

Ever since you had been adopted about two years ago, when you were 15, you hadn’t been the best at openly communicating with your moms, especially about your feelings. Your previous home life wasn’t the best, as your biological parents would verbally, and sometimes even, physically abuse you.

After going through that whole ordeal and then jumping around in foster care, you weren’t used to expressing your emotions nor were you used to having people, like Tobin and Christen, who actually cared for you.

So when the two soccer players took you in and adopted you, it was certainly an adjustment for you. You found yourself often bottling everything up and then lashing out, usually taking form in a yelling match between you and your moms.

Both Tobin and Christen, but particularly the curly-haired forward, were worried about you. They knew you hadn’t ever actually had the chance to process the traumatic events of your childhood, and your coping mechanism of keeping it all to yourself was not healthy. However, every time they tried to talk to you, you would brush them off.

Though, their worried had been heightened a couple of days ago, when they’d found out you’d resorted to physical violence, punching a boy in the face. But they couldn’t let your actions go unpunished, hence why you were traveling with them to Cincinnati for the USWNT’s SheBelieves Cup training camp and matches.

“Whatever,” you mutter under your breath.

“Come on, this is hardly a punishment.” Christen squeezes your shoulder, decidedly ignoring your comment, and picks up her bag, motioning for you to do the same. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“I doubt it.” You grab your duffel, as the three of you make your way downstairs.

“Emily and Lindsey will be there,” Tobin offers, knowing that might cheer you up. Living in Portland, you spent a lot of time with the two blonde women and formed a sisterly relationship with them.

You shrug, trying to hide the excitement bubbling within you.

“Come on you two,” Christen calls over her shoulder, as she packs the suitcases into the trunk of the Uber.

“Just try and tone down the attitude, for your mom’s sake, okay kiddo?” Tobin suggests, patting your shoulder. You roll your eyes but nod in agreement.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you huff quietly to yourself, sliding into the backseat, as the three of you make your way to the airport.

——————

As you walk into the lobby of the hotel, trailing behind your moms, you hear someone call your name.

“(Y/N)!” Emily runs across the room and hops on your bag, Lindsey following close behind.

You wince, as the two older women crash into you and squish your body.

“You’re here at camp!” Lindsey claps your shoulder. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I’m gonna head up to my room.”

You give them a small smile, wiggling out of their hold, and approach your moms.

“Could I have a key to the room please?”

“Here you go.” Christen pulls out the card from her coat pocket, placing it in your hand. “We’re having team dinner at 6, so be down by then.”

You nod and head down the hall to the elevators.

—————

A couple hours later, after you’d unpacked, showered, and scrolled through your phone, you walked into the large conference room, where the team dinner was set up.

Knowing the routine by now, you grabbed a plate and began to serve yourself some food. Scanning the room, you decide to take a seat next to Sonny and across from Lindsey, your moms only a few seats down.

As you begin to take a bite of salad, you feel Emily nudge your elbow. “So was what you did so bad that your parents had to force you to come to camp?” The defender shovels a mouth full of food, looking at you expectantly.

You furrow your brow. “Huh?”

“Well,” Lindsey chimes in. “You rarely ever come to national camp anymore, and when you do it’s usually a punishment of some sort because you look miserable.”

“Fair.” You nod, taking another bite.

“Well, you gonna spill the beans?” Mal asks, joining the conversation.

“Just stuff at school.” You shrug, as the youngsters around you exchange glances.

“What happened at school?” Rose raises her eyebrows.

“Nothing,” you mumble, ducking you head. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Ignoring you, Sonnett keeps pushing. “Did you not do your homework? Get a bad grade on a test? Ooooo did you get into a fight?” The defender leans forward on the edge of her seat, poking your arm, as the rest of the younger players pause their meal, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, and you clench your hand around your fork.

“Emily!” Tobin calls out from across the table. “Stop being so nosy and cut it—”

“I said I didn’t wanna talk about it!” You yell, as you slam your fist down onto the table, causing the plates and silverware to clatter. The entire room goes silent, everybody turning to look at you to see what’ll happen next.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) Press-Heath!” Christen scolds, giving you a glare, nodding her head to the door. “Outside, now.”

You drop your utensils and push your chair away from the table, following your mom out of the room.

Once the two of you are alone out in the hallway, the silence becomes unbearable. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, you hang your head and avoid eye contact with Christen.

“(Y/N), what happened in there?” Anger evident was evident in the forward’s voice, but she remained calm.

You shrug your shoulders, putting your hands in your hoodie pocket.

Frustrated by your behavior, Christen sighs, “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and you know that, (Y/N/N). You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, mom,” you murmur, intensely staring at the plain pattern on the hotel carpet.

“Look at me, honey.” Christen gently lifts your chin with her finger, her eyes softening. “Talk to me.”

You lock eyes with your mom and feel guilt pulling at your heart. You knew that your parents wanted what was best for you and that they actually cared for you, unlike your biological ones, but after what you’d been through, you couldn’t bring yourself to open up very easily.

“I’m just tired,” you easily lie, your eyes fleeting from Christen’s green orbs.

“Okay,” your mom sighs in defeat. “Well in that case, go upstairs and get some rest.”

You give her a small smile and turn to make your way towards the elevators. Before you could get too far, Christen calls after you, “And don’t come back down until you’ve lost the attitude!”

Looking back at her, you throw up a thumbs up, before pushing the up button. After a quick elevator ride up to the third floor, you unlock the hotel room you shared with your moms. Glancing over at your backpack leaning against the desk, you know you should probably start your homework and study for your biology test, but the bed calls to you, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep under the covers, sleep taking over.

—————

The next morning, you wake up in a bed all by yourself. Looking over at the opposite bed, you notice it’s empty, your moms already up. You glance at the clock. 8:17 am. Rolling over to grab your phone of the nightstand, you check your text messages and see one from the group chat with your moms.

Ma 🤙:

Morning kiddo. Breakfast starts at 8 but we didn’t wanna wake you. Hope you slept well. Please be down before 9. Love u

You simply give the text a thumbs up, before sliding out of bed and making your way to the bathroom for a shower.

Once the water is to the temperature of your liking, you step under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom. You were honestly grateful your moms had already gone down to breakfast, as it left you alone to shower in peace.

When you were back at your old home, the shower was the only place you could escape. You would use it as a place of refuge, where the water would drown out all the noise of your parents’ yelling and screaming, numb the pain of your cuts and bruises, and leave you to empty your mind.

Closing your eyes, you let the water hit your face and drip down your body. You try to feel every single drop when it hits and as it falls, grounding yourself in the present.

After a few minutes, you pull your head out from under the water, wipe your eyes, and get on with cleaning yourself.

Once you’ve finished showering and getting dressed, you make your way down to breakfast. You grab a banana and a yogurt before sitting down across from your moms.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Christen coos. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” you respond, as you peel your banana.

“You feeling better?” Tobin subtly asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

You nod, your mouth too full to voice a response.

The two women exchange a worried glance, causing you to roll your eyes. “Moms, I’m fine.”

“Alright, kiddo,” Tobin sighs. “Just know if you ever need to talk about anything, we’re here for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, giving her a small smile.

“Well,” Christen starts, as she begins to clear her plate. “We have to leave for training in about ten minutes, so you either have two options: you can either come to the field with us and watch training or you can stay at the hotel and do your homework and study for that test coming up.”

You grimace at your options, not really like either of them. Before you can formulate your decision, your mom interjects, “And yes, you would actually have to do homework. Phil agreed to stay back with you of that’s what you choose.”

“Like a babysitter?” You scoff.

“No,” Christen calmly states. “Just someone to make sure you’re actually doing your work. And Phil does have an MD, so he’d probably be able to help you with your biology.”

“I think I’d rather come watch your training,” you decide, wanting to see your moms play, also having some interest in the sport of soccer.

“Awesome!” Tobin grins at you. The forward had been trying to warm you up to the idea of playing soccer, obviously not pushing anything onto you, but she couldn’t be faulted for trying.

“Okay.” Christen nods, putting a hand on her girlfriend’s arm to calm her down. “That means you will have to study and finish your work later.” She gives you a stern look, daring you to protest.

You nod, taking one last bite of your strawberry yogurt and putting the banana peel in the plastic cup.

“Okie dokie. It’s time to go. Let’s get moving.” Tobin slaps the table, getting up from her seat.

After quickly cleaning up breakfast, you follow your moms, along with the rest of the team, onto the bus. Looking down the aisle, you try to find an open seat, knowing your moms sit together.

“(Y/N)!” Emily shouts, waving to you from the back of the bus. “Come sit with us.”

You make your way towards where all the youngsters sat and see that Emily and Lindsey have squished together, making room for you on the aisle seat.

As you plop down, Sonnett rests her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so nosy. It won’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Em.” You nod, a small smile on your face. “And I’m sorry for snapping and yelling like I did.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N/N).” Emily grins, ruffling your hair, as she goes back to being her goofy self.

For the rest of the bus ride, you watch and listen to the youngsters antics, ranging from Sam’s terrible puns to Mal’s mediocre rapping. To your surprise, you find yourself having a decent time, glad to be spending time with people somewhat close to your age.

—————

After getting off the bus and arriving to the field, the team slips on their gear and starts warming up. You find a seat on the bench, bundling up in your mom’s puffy jacket.

About an hour and a half later, Vlatko blows his whistle, signaling the official end of practice, but a bunch of the players remain on the field, either getting in some last minute shots or playing a fun game of 1v1 or 2v2.

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Lindsey yells from across the field, where her Emily and Mal are playing keep away. “Come join us.”

You glance over to your moms, silently asking for approval, to which they both give you a thumbs up and large grins, encouraging you to go play.

Getting up from the bench, you jog over to the group of younger players.

“So it’s gonna be me and you versus Sonny and Mal. Sound good?” The blonde midfielder asks you, passing the ball to your feet.

All you can do is nod, before Emily is quickly pressuring you, almost stealing the ball. Trying to remember a move you’ve seen Tobin do a million times before, you roll the ball out in front of you, baiting the blonde defender, and then quickly slip it through Sonnett’s legs, passing it to Lindsey.

“Wooooo!” Tobin cheers from behind you. “Nice move, kiddo!”

“You taught her well, babe,” Christen gushes to her girlfriend, bumping their shoulders.

For a second, all Emily can do is stand in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just megged me, (Y/N/N). How could you do that to me?” She gasps, feigning offense, as she puts her hand on her chest.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the older woman. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sonny.”

As the four of you continue your game of keep away, you can’t help but love the way the ball feels at your feet and the way you have complete control over it. The control and freedom of the game feels nice, practically foreign.

Lindsey makes a pass to you, splitting the two defenders. Once you receive the ball, Emily is, once again, quickly on your back, but this time, as you hold the ball away from her, shielding it with your body, she can’t control her momentum and crashes into you.

You fall to the ground with a huff, feeling the wind knocked out of you, as you’re not really used to the physicality of soccer. Rolling over so you can sit up, you grimace. “Ouch.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N/N),” Emily chuckles, as she moves to stand over you, holding out her arm to help you up. “That tackle wasn’t that hard, probably didn’t even hurt at all. Don’t be such a baby.”

The words ring in your head, triggering old memories of the man who called himself your father. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say whenever you whined about something, even though that was to be expected of a five year old. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say as he slapped or kicked you. ‘Don’t be such a baby,” he’d say when you told him about the bullies at school. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say, and so you didn’t, at least you tried.

As you ground yourself back in the present moment, you to catch your breath, as you gasp for air. The rage ultimately consumes you, as your blinded by the pent up anger and resentment you held towards your father.

You abruptly push yourself up off the ground and get in Emily’s face. “Don’t talk to me like that!” You grit between your teeth.

“Woah, (Y/N).” Emily backs away from you, holding her hands up in innocence. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You yell, pushing the other woman’s shoulders, causing her to stumble backwards.

“Alright, (Y/N/N).” Lindsey quickly moves in between the two of you. “You’re okay.” She tries to calm you down, but to no avail.

Tobin and Christen, hearing the commotion and your yelling, run over to you and gently but firmly grab you, pulling you away from the blonde defender.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Christen scolds. “We’re going back to the hotel. Now.”

The three of you make your way towards one of the team vans, your moms deciding it would be better than to ride back on the bus with the rest of the team.

During the ride back to the hotel, a tense silence hung in the air. You still hadn’t cooled off, your fists clenched and your knees bouncing. Though your mom was upset by your behavior, she couldn’t help but worry, stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror.

The elevator ride is much more of the same, no one daring to speak until you’re in the privacy of the hotel room. Even as you enter the room and take a seat on your bed across from your parents, you’re still silent, waiting for your moms to yell at you.

Tobin waits, her eyes darting between her daughter and her girlfriend, as she knows Christen is usually the disciplinary out of the two of them. Christen, herself, is choosing her words wisely, not wanting her frustration to boil over.

“(Y/N),” your mom begins her scolding. “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable! It’s one thing to be getting into fights at school, but here, at our workplace and with our teammates, that won’t be tolerated.”

You hang your head, as you fidget with your fingers, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetie,” Christen gently directs. Lifting your head, you meet the looks of both your moms, and you can’t stop the guilt from bubbling in your chest.

“I’m sorry, moms,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, or disappoint you.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Your moms move to seat on either side of you.

“We forgive you, kiddo.” Tobin says, taking your hand in hers. “But we’re worried about you. And until you talk to us and tell us what’s going on, we can’t help you and that’s all we want to do.”

You slightly shake your head in disbelief. “Why?”

“What?” Your ma furrows her brows, confused.

“Why do you wanna help me?” You say a little louder, getting frustrated by the thoughts in your own head. After having to fend for yourself for so long, the thought of depending on others was still difficult for you to accept.

“Because we care, (Y/N). We love you,” Christen cries, as her voice cracks, and she rubs your back soothingly.

“Well I don’t need your help!” You exclaim angrily, shaking off your moms hands, as you stand up from the bed to turn to face them.

At your outburst, Christen’s heart breaks with the weight of defeat. Taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her face hardens.

“Watch your tone when you speak to us,” your mom sternly states, her eyes telling you that she’s not messing around. “You’re going to stay in this room and finish your homework and study for your test. No TV, no phone, nothing but your school work. Got it?”

You nod, gulping down the knot in your throat, as tears burn your eyes.

“Hand over the phone, kiddo.” Tobin holds her hand out and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out your phone and and place it into your moms open hand.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Christen moves closer to you, before kissing your forehead. “We love you, (Y/N/N), and that’s why we’re doing this.”

All you can do is watch as your moms exit the room, Tobin grabbing the television remotes on her way out. Sighing, you plop down on the bed and run your hand through your hair.

For a second, you contemplate just taking a nap and not doing any of your work, but you knew if you did that, your moms would be even more upset, and you did’t want to test that.

So, you unwillingly sit down at the desk and pull out your laptop and notebooks, starting with your history homework.

—————

After about two hours, you’d completed all your homework and started reviewing for your biology test. It wasn’t that school was hard or that you had trouble understanding the material, it was just that you did’t like doing the monotonous work. You never really saw the point in doing homework if you already understood the concepts.

You check the clock and notice it’s 6 o’clock, almost dinner time. Sitting up straight, you stretch arch forward, stretching your back and lifting your arms.

You wonder what your moms wanted you to do for dinner, but seeing as you had no way to contact them, you decide just to quickly grab something from the team’s buffet and pray they don’t see you. However, you have a feeling they wouldn’t be too upset at you for not staying in the room if you were getting food, but you knew you’d pushed the envelope earlier, so you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

Quietly closing the door behind you, you quickly make your way down the hall towards the elevator. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you hear your mom’s voice.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean she’s never really opened up to us that much, but she’s never resorted to violence.”

Immediately you press yourself against the wall, hiding yourself but also so you can hear what they’re gonna say.

“Well, I don’t know if you can keep bringing her to camp anymore, especially if she’s gonna act like that.” You hear Megan’s voice echo in the hallway, and you feel a pit form in your stomach.

“Hey,” Tobin protests, coming to your defense. “(Y/N)’s a good kid. I think she’s just been through some stuff, but I think she enjoys coming to camp and hanging out with the team, even maybe playing soccer.”

You fondly smile, hearing your ma defend you to her good friend, even when you weren’t there.

“I think I’m gonna run up some dinner to her after we eat,” Christen says, worry evident in her voice. “I may have been too harsh on her.”

“Babe, it’s a tough situation, but I think you handled it very well,” Tobin tries to ease her girlfriend’s concerns.

“Hey, why don’t I bring her her dinner and maybe talk to her a little?” Ashlyn offers. “I mean I just thought I might be able to get through to her, maybe even share some of my own experiences with her.”

“That’d be great, Ash, thanks.” You see your mom, but you can hear the smile in her voice.

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as you turn around and quickly make your way back to your room, now that you know Ash is bringing you some food.

—————

It was about an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. “Hey, (Y/N), it’s Ashlyn. I brought you some dinner.”

Getting up from the desk, you go to open the door, revealing the blonde goalkeeper holding a plate of food. “Hey, Ash. Thanks for the food.”

“Can I come in?”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. “Yeah, sure.” Opening the door wider, you move to let her in.

Following her into the room, you place your plate on the desk, after moving your work to the side. You sit down to start eating, when you notice that Ashlyn is still watching you from the end of your bed.

“Ummm,” you mumble awkwardly. “Was there something you wanna talk about?” You ask, even though you already had a good idea as to where this conversation was heading.

Ash takes a deep breath before talking. “Look, (Y/N), I’m just gonna be straight up with you. I know about the fight you had at school, and I saw what happened at dinner last night, and I saw the almost fight you had with Sonnett today at practice. And I know that you’re not that kid, because I’ve heard what your moms have had to say about you.

“But I also know that this aggression, this anger, that you have, it’s not healthy. I don’t know if it’s some pent up shit or if it’s something you’re going through currently, but whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’s not gonna go away if you keep it to yourself.

“And honestly, I should know because I’ve dealt with some tough shit that life’s dealt me, but you know what? I didn’t get through that alone, and neither will you. But luckily, you have two amazing and supportive moms that are there for you, and will support and love you, but only if you let them. You even have all of us because this team is a family, and so now you’re part of that.

“So basically, I’m just here if you wanted to talk. It doesn’t even have to be about school or what’s been happening. Could be about anything: your favorite food, the stupid biology test I heard you’ve been studying for, Tobin’s weird obsession with using the same three emojis, Christen’s morning routine, whatever you want, I’m here.”

During Ashlyn’s speech, a whirl of emotions circulate your body, but most of all, you feel warm. You feel warm knowing you have people in your corner rooting for you, something you weren’t entirely familiar with before.

Almost as if the older woman’s words had knocked down a damn, your eyes flood with tears, sobs wrecking your body.

“I just— I’ve never had anybody who— They were always so mean— I could never say anything— I didn’t want—,” you gasp, struggling to breath with the intensity of your crying.

“Shhhhh, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ash coos, as she wraps her arms around you, allowing you to cry into her chest.

After a couple of minutes, after your tears have subsided and your breathing’s evened out, you sniffle, pulling out of the goalie’s embrace.

“I didn’t really have the best childhood growing up with my biological family, you know, before Tobin and Christen,” you begin to explain the shortened and simplified version of your story.

“My parents weren’t the best, actually they were the worst,” you say with a chuckle, knowing that was an understatement. “The kids at school, Emily at the dinner table and at practice, it’s all just a trigger, reminding me of things my parents used to do and say. I guess, when I was younger, I never really processed what happened, so now, I just react with all this anger that I have for my parents.”

“(Y/N).” Ashlyn squeezes your shoulder. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I really think that if you talked to Tobin and Christen and opened up to them, even if it’s just what they told me, they’d still love you and support you.”

“Really?” You ask, uncertain.

“Mhmm,” she hums. “As much as it would calm their worrying, and you know how much Chris can worry sometimes,” the two of you share a laugh at that, “I think that this is something you need as well: to have parents in your life who will actually be parents for you, who will guide you, support you, love and care for you, tell you when you’re being stupid, give you advice, let you make bad decisions because that’s how you’ll learn, let you be your true self. I think, deep down, that that’s something you truly want.”

You follow her words and nod. “Yeah,” you sigh. “I do want that.”

Ashlyn gives you a soft smile, as she stands up from the bed. “How about I go get your moms and you guys can talk?”

“That’d be great,” you agree. Just as Ash’s about to leave, you call out to her, “And Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” You give her a sincere smile, trying to convey your gratitude.

Ashlyn just nod with a grin, receiving your message, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

—————

After Ash left, you started to pace around the room, nerves fluttering in your stomach, as you were mentally rehearsing what you were gonna say to your moms.

About ten minutes later, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. “Sweetie,” you hear Christen’s muffled voice. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah,” you call back, resuming your pacing, as the two women enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tobin approaches you. “Ash said you wanted to talk to us?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath and shake your hands, ridding yourself of the nerves. As you sit down on the bed, both of your moms take a seat opposite you on the other bed.

“I just wanted to explain some stuff to you guys, tell you my story or whatever, you know, all that jazz,” you stammered awkwardly.

“(Y/N/N), we don’t want you to feel pressured to tell us anything if you’re not ready,” Christen assures.

“No, I need to share this with you. I want to,” you insist, adamantly shaking your head.

“Okay, we’re here for you.” Tobin nods, giving you an encouraging smile.

You take another deep breath before diving into the story of your life. “As you obviously know, my biological parents weren’t really fit for raising a child, which is why you adopted me, but you already knew that.”

You run your hands through your hair, as this was proving to be more difficult than you thought. But looking at the warm and understanding eyes of your moms, you push through.

“My parents, especially my father, were abusive, both verbally and physically. It started as early as I can remember. They would always be calling me names and insulting me if I didn’t do things correctly, even for the tiniest mistakes like leaving the toothpaste on the counter.

“Growing up with that and hearing it everyday, I started to believe it. I thought I was useless and stupid, a no good child, those words ingrained in my mind. But I was taught not to show any emotions. ‘Don’t be such a baby’ is what they’d always say to me.

“So, I learned to hide it all, even if that meant keeping it all to myself. I guess that’s why I’ve been acting out recently; it’s all bubbling over, exploding out of me.”

You quickly glance at your moms, scanning their faces for any hints of disgust or anger, but all you can see is empathy and sadness.

“I didn’t tell you this, but I guess I should’ve: the kids at school bully me, calling me names, insulting me, and sometimes even kicking me. Sometimes, they even talk about you two, why you’re together or why you would adopt someone like me.

“At dinner yesterday, Emily just kept pushing me to talk, which I’ve never really encountered before, and I was really uncomfortable, so I just snapped. And at training, she said ‘don’t be such a baby’ after she’d tackled me, and those words triggered all those memories of my father, and all that anger and hatred I have for him just came out.

Hanging your head, tears falling down your cheeks, you bite your trembling lip. “I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I accept my punishments, but I just thought you should know my past, especially because your my moms and I’m your daughter.”

Through the blur of the pools in your eyes, you see your moms giving you a sad, fond smile.

Sniffling, you choke back a sob. “I’m sorry I’m not the perfect daughter you guys wanted, but I love you, moms.”

Tobin and Christen immediately move to either side of you, wrapping you up in their arms and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Oh, (Y/N/N),” Christen whispers, kissing your temple. “Sweetie, will you look at me.”

Lifting your head from the crook of her neck, you meet her teary eyes.

“(Y/N), we don’t want a perfect daughter. We want you, every single part of you, even the most scarred and damaged parts of you, because you know what?” She brushes loose hair out of your face.

“Hmm?”

“All those parts of you are what make you you. (Y/N), you are an incredibly intelligent, kind, caring, and beautiful soul, even with all your scars.”

“Don’t forget talented!” Tobin chirps from next to you. “I saw that nutmeg earlier today.” She smirks, as she gives you a knowing look, causing you all to share a wet chuckle.

“Thanks, moms.” You lean your head against Tobin’s shoulder and hold Christen’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m so grateful for you, moms. I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, kiddo.” Your ma leans down to kiss the top of your head, as Christen lovingly snuggles against your side, humming in agreement.

“And just know that if you ever need to talk to anybody or just need a shoulder to lean or cry on, we’re always here for you.”

You nod against her shoulder and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of contentment and warmth, the feeling of home that you found between the love of your moms.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #preath x reader #preath x daughter!reader #uswnt #tobin heath #christen press #preath

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years ago

Text

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE PART THREE HERE

Master List Permanent Tag List

Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

“Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

“It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

You looked at the clock again.

20:37

You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

Where was Spencer?

You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

You had cooked for him.

His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

“You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

“You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

“What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair @sammypotato67 @spencerreids-wife @yoongi-holland @bucky-babygirl @youareperrrfectls @alexxcorona113 @tired-draculina @rachelxwayne @itsmoony @shigarakis-fifth-hand @andreasworlsboring101 @fantasticalfuchsbau @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @ourmrswonderlandlove @loverboyreid @kburgenstein

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid angst #i'm back to ruin your life

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 4 years ago

Text

Hide && Seek;; YHW

Word Count;; 3.5k

Genre;; HORROR

Pairing;; Hwanwoong x Reader

Summary;;

Inside this grand, lavish hotel and its sparkling veneer of respectability, you find yourself playing the role of the feline in a little game of cat and mouse. Your opponent? Hwanwoong, the man with the angelic smile and carefree eyes. The further you chase him, however, the harder it is to settle your nerves. The line between predator and prey is blurring and you can't help but wonder who exactly is pursuing who.

Warnings;;

TW// Blood, Character Death (random side character), Supernatural and Dark Themes!! Graphic depictions of violence! I’m serious here! It’s a bit intense. NOT for the light of heart (or stomach). Oh, and explicit language.

Please be mindful of these warnings as this features EXPLICIT violence.

Notes;;

Day Nine of the Halloween 2k20 Prompts! ~Monster~

My Masterlist

You've had too much to drink.

With a cloudy mind, you stumble after your companion. Your feet drag as you lag behind him. You pass many doors but he doesn't stop. Further down the hall and deeper into the building you travel, long past the area of the hotel reserved for guests.

His silky hair bounces every time he turns to you. After what feels like an eternity staring at the back of his head, you appreciate the fleeting glimpses of gleaming eyes and that cheeky smile he flashes your way. He's keeping an eye on you, making sure you don't wander off in your drunken haze. That much is obvious but you don't mind, not really. In return you are dutiful in your pursuit of him.

You can't recall where he is taking you. With half a mind to ask, your mouth falls open only to snap shut - he's looking back at you now with such an intensity that all you can do is stare in return. There's something swirling deep within his eyes but you can't pinpoint it; you can't put your finger on what emotion is prevalent in his gaze as it bears into your soul.

Seconds crawl by.

One foot in front of the other, you're on autopilot as you follow him without a thought of your own, your mind zeroing in on the burning intensity of his stare. He pulls you deeper into his hypnotic, hungry eyes with every step all the while leading you deeper into the bowels of the hotel. For some reason you trust him and you don't question the dubious situation despite this being the first night you've met.

There's a familiarity about him that lures you.

You come across a red sign and some yellow tape. He steps over it so you do too, tripping over your own feet to catch back up to him as his pace quickens. He disappears around a corner and you chase him. You're always hot on his trail and yet you remain so far behind.

Your hand slides down the wall as you round the corner. Chips of paint slough off and embed within the soft flesh of your palm. With a hiss of pain, you look down. Tiny beads of blood well around the points of impact, each marked by stiff, sharp shards of paint.

If you pull them out now, sure, it'll sting, but leaving them in will only cause misery later alongside a possible infection.

With your mind set, you get to work. It's a struggle to remove the tiny pieces but you try nonetheless. They're small and fragile, breaking before you have a chance to remove the whole fragment but you don't give up. Piece after piece, you pick and scrape into the tender, sensitive skin.

Blood flows more freely now. It's hard to see the paint when there's so much blood leaking out of the growing gashes but you're stubborn. You don't leave jobs half-done and you can feel more of the tiny shards just beneath the skin, taunting you. They slip deeper the further your nails chase them.

As if they're makeshift pliers, your middle finger and thumb stretch open the skin while your pointer finger digs deep, blood and flesh pulsing from the assault.

"Having fun?"

You stop dead in your tracks.

Rubbing your eyes in an attempt to clear away the alcohol-induced haze, you frown. Hwanwoong is nowhere to be seen. You squint as you scour, searching up and down from the cracked floor to the peeling ceiling, but find no clues as to his whereabouts.

Brushing it off, you look back down to your palm and the involuntary shiver that rocks your whole body leaves you trembling.

It's sobering.

The complete lack of blood, paint splinters, and cuts is sobering.

"Funny, isn't it?"

"What the fuck?"

It's a whisper meant to be consumed by the thundering silence and yet you know he heard it. He's lingering. Nowhere to be seen but everywhere at once, Hwanwoong is both near and far. You can't wrap your head around it.

Then there's the shift in the hall that is plain inexplicable. Up is down and down is... gone. You haven't any proof, just a gut feeling, but it's enough and you worry that if you do check, there will be nothing at all. Will you fall, then, like a cartoon character who has just realised they're running on air? Will you plummet right through the floor, tumbling out of reality in your pursuit of Hwanwoong?

Where did he go?

Dropping your hand out of view, you consider it lost to you now. Anything below the waist feels numb, as if it has merged with the darkness you suspect 'down' has become. Eye level seems safe enough so you gaze from side to side.

It isn't how you remember it to be.

The wall is pristine. There are no cracks. The paint isn't sloughing off. Nary a blemish marks the white, clean walls on either side of you. It's dangerous to let your eyes wander and yet you have no real control over yourself. They drift up and down, still cautious of the ceiling and floor but eager to solve this mystery all the same.

Turning your head, you gaze back at the corner where you had injured yourself. At least you thought you had. There is no bend or corner there, just a straight pathway leading you to…

You gulp, taking a step backward.

At the end of the hallway there's a room you wish to avoid.

At the end of the hallway there's a door that beckons to you.

It whispers the promise of death.

Snapping around once more, you run. You run and you run and you run until your lungs cannot bear it any longer and your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. No matter how far you go, there's no exit.

Gulping down air while resting against the wall, your nails dig into the plaster in an attempt to keep your body from collapsing down into the void. It comes up to your knees and the longer you stay still, the harder it is to move. Your head wobbles and shakes with every breath before your eyes flutter close.

Just a quick breather you tell yourself, knowing full well that if you don't snap out of this reverie, you'll fall headfirst into the madness consuming you.

"Should we play?"

The gasp bubbling free from deep within dissipates beneath the constriction of your throat. Nails impale themselves into the tender flesh of your neck. The higher you're lifted, the stronger his grasp becomes. Blood pools in your feet. Your body shakes. Your mind screams. Your eyes open.

But there's nothing.

Checking your neck for blood, you find it isn't even sore to the touch. Before you is that endless hallway but not a living presence is nearby. Hwanwoong is nowhere to be seen, though this fact doesn't surprise you any longer.

When your senses return to you, you're gazing at the floor. The same floor you feared mere moments ago. The carpet is ugly but otherwise harmless. There's no hell awaiting you and there's no darkness devouring you inch by inch. Releasing a shaky exhale, you risk turning back to face it.

Your nightmare.

The door.

Carved out within the wall at the end of the hall, it waits for you. Despite how far you've tried to run away from it, it remains just where it has always been. From beneath the threshold you see the edge of the refracted light, its pattern dancing and shimmering. It's a taunt handmade for you.

You take a step forward. Unlike your futile attempt to escape in the other direction, the gap shortens. You take another step. There's several indents in the wall lining the way. They're the perfect size for a door and yet when you run your hand along the edges, there's no air nor light seeping through. A solid wall greets your shoulder when you try to force a new entryway.

While inching closer to the final door and its kaleidoscope of sparkling light, you pound against the hall and all its false doors. Nothing budges and nothing gives. It isn't until you turn to cross the hall, intent on scouring the other side for a hole or error in the design, that you notice the infinite shards of reflective light and how they flood the hallway. Splashes of bright light dance across your skin. Eerie silence follows.

The door is ajar.

Reaching out, the tip of your fingers graze against the metallic overcoat. It's old and rough to the touch. You want to pull back, to turn around and escape this personalised hell, but the room is summoning you. It's a call to judgement and you daren't ignore it. You must atone.

The door creaks once your palm meets it. Though it looks heavy, it flies wide open with a single push. A tidal wave of light bursts through. Your heartbeat escalates.

It's impossible.

What you see is impossible and yet your past is here in vivid detail. From the view of the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the much closer fog over the outdoor jacuzzi to the soft jams of his radio and the desperate splashing of water to the stinging chlorine that, even now, burns your nose. It's all the same - right down to that fucking shimmering pool and the woman in it.

"Should we play some more?" Hwanwoong purrs.

His body presses against your own and you can feel the way it shakes with every syllable, as if he is brimming with excitement. For once, you know he's truly here with you. Whether 'here' is within the halls of the hotel or back inside that rich psycho's mansion isn't clear to you, however.

Perhaps you hadn't been the one to walk away after all.

"Have you been bad? Should I punish you?"

There's no room between your bodies but that doesn't stop you from trying to push past him, to squirm around him, to force him out of the room with the sparkling, refractive light and the secret it holds.

"Nah-uh, not so fast cutie." He smiles at you and your feeble attempt to move him. "Let's play a game."

"No!"

"Huh?"

"I don't want to! I need to get out of here, you don't underst-"

"But you don't even know what the game is yet," he pouts, gripping a fistful of your hair and stopping you dead in your tracks. With how tight his hold is, there's no doubt that the shearing burn exploding outward from the roots is your hair ripping from your skull. You can't silence the scream that escapes your quivering lips.

There's a voice in the back of mind that tells you to endure, to experience firsthand what you put her through.

Whether from blood or sweat, you feel a sticky dampness forming along your hairline. He loosens his grip once the tears flow down your face like a broken faucet. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head and murmurs something. You can't make out the words over the pounding of blood within your ears. It takes a few minutes before you're able to think straight and he waits for you the whole time, content to just watch.

"What-" you hiss through the dulling pain, "-game?"

"You're so resilient. I like that about you, sweet cheeks. Let's play… hide and seek. Do you know how to play?" He waits for a response and the jerk of your head suffices. Satisfied that you're paying attention, he grins. There's something ethereal about him and the way his skin glows and his eyes shine. It's no wonder you had followed him so willingly. He just seems so safe. Angelic, even. "Then go hide, silly."

With a push, you find yourself stumbling into the room with its giant pool and hypnotising effects. Unable to remain upright, you slip. The poolside puddles turn red when your cheek kisses the ground and blood spills forth from the piece of your tongue you damn near bite off.

There's a sharp stinging pain in your thigh. Deep within your pant pocket is a solid, round secret. It digs into your leg, bruising the skin down to the bone, and you wince as you stand. From pure reflex you grasp it and hold it in place, scared to lose it.

"I didn't think it would be us," the woman cries, sliding down the white walls and crumpling to the floor.

"Better us than the others," you mumble out of instinct, following along with the memory.

"I don't want to hurt you!" She's full on bawling now, tears and snot flowing down her face. You stand and wipe away the blood seeping from your split lip and torn tongue before spitting the excess into the pool. The water looks beautiful. It's gleaming and bright, unlike the last twenty-one hours.

"Better you than the others."

Dragging your injured foot, you approach her. She ignores your towering presence and focuses on staring into one of the little black cameras that have been watching the event unfold. You're running out of gas but she isn't faring much better.

You can finish this.

"Just let us go! Please, I don't want to die," she sobs, pleading with the red, blinking light on the camera. "We don't even care about the money."

Whether it's because of the trust born from a promise made hours prior, back when the odds were tilted in a much more dire direction, or because she thinks she can bargain for her life, she continues to ignore you.

What a mistake.

There's killing intent in your aura. It consumes you. Even you can tell and you're quite new to this murder business. And if you can tell, she can tell. After all, before the event your lives were quite similar. Parallel, even. If you could adjust this fast, so could she.

And yet she's crying on the floor and ignoring you, you with eyes devoid of empathy.

You with a pool ball in your grasp.

You with blood on your hands.

You within striking distance.

"We just want to live!"

"Better me than you."

Her desperate mewling ceases. Instead, her attention snaps to you. She can no longer ignore the threat you possess, not when you've released your weapon of choice from the soft material of your pants. Fear spreads across her dainty features like wildfire. Trying to escape the animosity spiraling over your form with your every step, she forces herself into a corner.

"But we agreed not t-"

Physics works in your favour. Velocity, force, and all that, but the semantics don't matter - all that matters is that the impact leaves a splatter and her body is limp. You discard the pool ball and it rolls away, leaving a trail of fresh blood in its wake. Red seeps deep into the grout between polished tiles.

Relief strikes seconds after the realisation of your success dawns upon you.

It is soon, however, drowned by the overwhelming sense of guilt.

You may have won but at what cost?

Her blood on your face stains you much deeper than the man's had. His attack had come as a surprise. It had been a fight for survival after a helping hand turned feral. You had no choice, not if you wanted to live, and by God you wanted to live. Not just to exist, but to explore and to enjoy and to possess.

Avarice paints your skin in the darkest shade of red.

Shooting two birds with one stone, you drag her to the poolside. Blood gushes from her forehead. It fills the room with an unmistakable and distasteful scent. Resisting the urge to recoil, you drop to your knees. Water soaks through your pants until dark wet spots cover your whole lower half. It's an uncomfortable sensation but you push it aside, instead focusing on the slight bobbing of her chest.

She's the last of them.

She's the final obstacle in your pursuit of wealth.

And she's still fucking breathing.

It takes a few seconds for her consciousness to return after you submerge her head beneath the surface. Her resistance starts immediately thereafter. She contorts and she struggles, pulling away from the iron-tight grip scarring her skull only to sink further into the depths of the pool. Your nails deep into flesh as you seek a more steady hold but you soon lose your footing to the slippery, polished tiles and topple onto her back.

There's a loud crack and you know between your weight and the position she's found herself in with half of her body in the water and the other half flailing behind her that it is too much pressure for her fragile bones. Her ribs crack one by one, fracturing like the snap of a twig. She screams but the water consumes the sounds, rising bubbles the only evidence.

From a deep shade of red to a soft pink, the water dilutes outward from the nonstop stream of blood gushing from her growing wounds.

"I'm sorry, but I've come too far to care about you."

The words are a reassurance to yourself. They serve as a reminder: this isn't who you are. You're a victim of circumstance. Someone had to do it so why not you? You've come too far to chicken out now. You've come too far to pity the ones that had to fall in order for you to rise.

Your soul is malleable beneath the corruption of sin.

Once her struggling ceases, you hold her down for a bit longer. When enough time passes that even an Olympic swimmer's lung capacity would fail them, you hold her down for a bit longer. Even though the blood no longer rushes forth and she's cold to the touch, you hold her down for a bit longer.

It isn't until the room floods with light that you release her. Strands of her hair twist around your fingers as her body sinks into the depths. The further she descends, the deeper the darkness that consumes her becomes. You cannot see the bottom and soon she is lost to you, claimed by the cold void.

A hand rests on your shoulder and you jump.

This is when they escort you off the grounds, give you the money, and remind you of the contract.

This is when the nightmare is supposed to end.

For the first time, your memory alters. No blanket is wrapped around you nor is anyone calling your name, ushering you out of the battlegrounds. Instead the hand on your shoulder lifts to cradle your chin, tilting your head back to face your companion. A playful smile greets your widening gaze.

"I found you," Hwanwoong coos, petting your cheek. "I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on you that guilt was eating you alive but this is always better than I could ever imagine."

"Please let me go," you stammer, fear settling in the gut of your stomach.

"Let you go? Do you not want me to clear you of this burden?"

"No, please, I only did what I had to!"

"Do you not want me to free you of this sin?"

"I did nothing wrong! Surviving isn't a crime!"

"Unfortunately for you, your opinion doesn't mean anything to me. 'I've come too far to care about you'," he mimics with a smirk. "I found you, just as I always do. And now…

"The dawn of judgement is upon you."

His palm meets your chest in a harsh push and you tumble. Even though your foot catches on the edge of the pool, it's much too slippery, too wet from your prior confrontation and you find yourself falling backward.

'-just as I always do.'

With widening eyes, you watch the ceiling blur above you. It's not what you expect of a pool room. In fact, you know it's not. Rather it's the white speckled panels of the hotel you had been stumbling around at three in the morning in a drunken haze as the years of guilt culminate in another reckless search for trouble, another desperate attempt to feel something.

Is it still that same morning?

Has time passed in a blink or has it frozen altogether?

'I found you-'

Just as he always does, he found you hiding within that same memory, stuck inside that single slice of hell. Just as he always does, he uses your weakness against you. He plays with you for a time until he gets bored of it all and sets you loose within the hotel.

And then he plays with you anew.

In this moment of falling, he allows you to remember. It's the final squeeze of pleasure he can extract from this iteration and he squeezes it dry. He watches fear born of knowledge contort your features and he indulges in it for as long as he can.

Hwanwoong's soft, angelic face etches into your mind, replacing the gift of truth with a lie of familiarity and trust, and soon a fog covers your mind. Despite your unending descent, you close your eyes and embrace the calm washing over you in waves. Of your own volition, you forget.

After all, the knowledge of one's eternal damnation is enough to destroy even the strongest mind.

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nautiscarader · 3 years ago

Note

For Lumity: “Oh Luz...” Amity said looking over Luz bound to bed with gift ribbons, “you’ve been a naughty girl, time to make up for it.”

(Ao3), Lumity, Nice

=============

- Oh Luz... - Amity said, looking over Luz bound to bed with gift ribbons - You’ve been a naughty girl, time to make up for it.

Amity walked around the bed, carefully eyeing the meticulous pattern of knots and ties that kept her girlfriend immobile, thinking of a proper counterspell.

- Okay, Luz, tell me exactly what have you done. - Can't I... can't I just say that I am really sorry so that the whole thing can let me go? - No, I need details, to know which alarms have you set off. So you have to... - ...confess to every single thing in detail. Ugh!

Luz groaned and was ready to threw her head back, if her body wasn't magically restrained.

- When I said I want my life to be like a cartoon, I didn't mean to get the end-of-an-episode moral lesson! Okay, so...

---

Luz leaned from behind the tree, peeling her eyes to spot anyone, or anything that could interrupt her utmost import mission. Two more heads popped underneath her, as King and Hooty joined Luz, probably making more noises she intended to.

- Okay, guys, here's the plan. - she rolled her parchment and lit it with a glyph - We have go get to the gate, there's probably going to be a shield spell placed on it...

- Which we know can be defeated with a sword! - King spoke, unsheathing his plastic weapon with a few well-placed glyphs on it.

- That's right. Then, we get to the door, locked with proprietary Blight Peak Anti-lockpicking Lock spell...

- Which is where I come in! Literally!

Hooty's face brightened, and Luz nodded.

- Right, which leaves us with spells inside the house... Abominations. Which leaves only me. But don't worry, guys, I have been practising.

Luz ruffled her hair and twisted her arms to make her look like a crippled monstrous entity that only vaguely resembled a human being.

- Great impression, Luz! - King cheered - Keeping that hair unwashed was a great addition. - What? - Luz broke her character immediately - Ew, no, it's-it's not that bad...

Luz gathered their supplies and looked one more time at the enormous Blight Manor, standing proudly on a small hill overlooking this part of Boiling Isles. her heart skipped a beat when she imagined the look on Amity's face in a few hours, when she returns home...

With an indomitable Christmas spirit and her own brand of unbridled optimism, Luz and her friends sneaked up to the gates of the Blight Mansion ready to enact her plan. King got on all fours and sniffed his way right to the place where two parts of magic door were sealed and raised his toy sword in the air.

- I.... HAVE... THE.. PO- - Ssh! Be quiet!

King sighed.

- I have the power... - he muttered under his breath, before wedging the plastic between the magic planes.

With a much louder and ominous, heavy "clang", the door opened, allowing the three to sneak inside. They ran (or, to to be more precise, King and Luz ran, while Hooty simply elongated himself) up to the main door, where Luz let their expert lockipcker do his job.

- Actually, I never asked you, how did you pick the lock the first time...? - Luz addressed Hooty, reminding herself of the time when he "borrowed" Amity from her house just to make her confession come to life. - Oh, that is easy! - Hooty smiled - I did not pick the lock... I PECKED IT!

And with a loud smash, Hooty simply jammed his beak into the magic lock. A few sparks flew into the air, and with a soft "click", the door opened, welcoming the three with the warm glow.

- Oh, you gotta teach me that... - Luz spoke, asthe three got inside. - What now, Luz? - Now... it's all up to me, guys.

She turned towards King and Hooty and hugged them both.

- Thank you for helping me, you know how much Amity means to me...

- We still have no idea what ar you planning, but we are happy for you two!

Hooty coiled itself around King, and slowly retracted from the corridor, just when Luz heard a familiar, squelching footsteps.

- Well, here goes nothing...

Luz grabbed a thermos from her backpack and poured the prepared goo all over her body, just in time for the abomination guardian to walk into her sight. It eyed Luz with its absent-minded stare, and when Luz returned the same bewildered looks, brought upon by the goo creeping its way underneath her shirt, it merely shrugged and continued its patrol.

Luz took her chance and rushed past it, knowing her way to Amity's room, up the stairs. Before she opened to door, she cleaned herself of the abomination goo, and stepped inside, ready to enact the final part of her present.

She reached into her backpack and pulled out a festive bough of mistletoe, ready to hang it somewhere above the doorframe. All she needed was ribbons and a few inches of height... Luz took a nearby stool and stepped on it, hanging the decoration right where Amity will be standing in just half an hour or so.

She looked at it, sighed, and stepped down, imagining the look on Amity's face when she will be greeted by her-

And then something clicked underneath Luz's foot.

- Uh-oh.

In a blink of an eye, something grabbed Luz's ankle, and was dragged from the pressure plate, and grabbed the only thing she could - her ribbons - to stop herself from being flung across the room. But if anything, she made it worse, as now the festive strand coiled around most of the pieces of furniture, tossing books and memorabilia around, while Luz desperately tried wriggling mid-air.

The gooey, tentacle arm fought with Luz's moves, until the human girl managed to fight it to Amity's bed, but not before her own weapon defeated her, as she found herself unable to move her arms and legs, the red ribbon coiled around her limbs after being tossed around the room.

And only when her sudden moves stopped, the security system disabled itself, and let Luz in half-demolished room, with half an hour to spend meditating on her mistake.

----

Amity blinked, finally finished listening to Luz's story, genuinely unsure what to think of it.

- Okay, Luz... I don't know if you know that, but usually breaking into people's rooms is considered bad... - Yeah, I know, Amity, and I should have- - But I also know that on Earth you have the, uh, the Santa person invading your privacy too, so you consider it a tradition, and I am glad you've decided to make me a part of it...

Amity stepped towards bewildered Luz and cut the ribbons holding her, while her magic disabled the monster living underneath her bed.

She cupped her face and stepping underneath the mistletoe, dangling from broken chandelier, Amity kissed Luz, letting her blissfully forget about everything she went through.

For a whole minute.

- You know you will have to fix all of this, right? - Y-Yeah.

Luz admitted and received on more kiss on the cheek, before Amity handed her a broom.

- Okay, so there was this old cartoon, and if I hypothetically bewitch the broom- - NO.

#lumity

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Please Dont Break My Heart Pt.1 (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Not proof read,pretty much trash.

JJ would be lying if he said that he didnt have a thing for you.You were known pretty well as both a heartbreaker and a sweetheart.Neither of those really made sense,it was like trying to mix water and olive oil.It just couldnt happen.You were a kook but werent considered one of the bad ones that would stare in disgust at every pogue they saw.

You were actually known to be quite friendly with pogues,even dating a handful of them.You’d date someone for three months and then drop their asses with no explanation why.It was like clockwork.It seemed like you got bored easily,hopping from one boy to the next.

There was pretty much a line of boys,both kooks and pogues ready to shoot their shot,be yours for three months and then get their hearts broken.Unfortunately JJ could relate,wishing that you’d come up to him one day with that well known smile,shining eyes asking him to hang out sometime.He would consider himself lucky to even be so close to you,to hold your hand and touch your hair whenever he pleased.

Even if it only lasted three months and you were using him he wouldnt even care.He didnt even know why he wanted you so much or what he liked about you.He sat by a fire,Kiara and Pope within his view as he spoke to your most recent ex,a blonde boy named Dylan.He was sniffling,not understanding why you had left him.

John.B say next to JJ,interested in the conversation that was currently about you. “So what’s she like?Is she rude or like...I dunno.”JJ shrugged,trying to form his questions into actual words.Dylan huffed,staring into the flames. “No,man.She’s nice as hell and she’s funny and she dances around her living room and she likes to surf and bake and-and oh god I fucking miss her.”Dylan sobbed,wiping his tears.

JJ had heard the same story from eight guys,that you were sweet and genuine and how they thought they were different from the others until you broke them too.JJ felt bad for them of course but more than anything he wanted to know the reason for your constant heartbreaking and manipulating.He felt even worse because he wanted you to manipulate him.

He tried to listen to Dylan talk,zoning out eventually.Technically he was in the line of guys that were ready to have their heart broken and you probably knew that.That meant that he could be the next boy to be yours.It was wrong of him to think that way and he knew that.He had watched this pattern for two years now,waiting for his turn patiently and never daring to interfere but beginning to think about what would happen this time.He wanted this to be the best summer ever,to have a good time all the time.You could most definitely make this the best summer ever which meant that he needed to be number one in your line.

It had been a week since you broke Dylan’s heart.He was good to you,never yelled at you or treated you wrong.He let you take his hoodies and gave you forehead kisses and piggy back rides down the beach.You were his lockscreen and he was yours,doing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted,including braiding your hair for you and going for swims in your pool at three in the morning.

But he was getting too close to you and deep down you knew that nobody could be that perfect.You didnt want to hurt anyone which was why you let go of them so quickly and so easily,you’d hurt them more if you let them stick around.You didnt even know what your type was or if you even had one,you just needed something different.

You were definitely known for breaking peoples hearts which was definitely not a good reputation to have but it was better than being a drug dealer or a crackhead,both of which had been interested in you at one point.You wanted someone that was more like you,impulsive,excited,ready to try new things and have deep conversations at four in the morning.

You knew that none of the boys were really like that and you knew that they would just act like that in hopes of getting you to like them.There was only one boy that you could think of that fit what you wanted without pretending.That one boy was JJ Maybank.

You were nervous as hell to even look in his direction,knowing that he was probably disgusted by the thought of a rich,heartbreaking kook and wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.You had been single for a week,trying to figure out what to do about JJ.You didnt want to be with him and then leave him,you admired him far too much for that.

But you knew that you wanted to be with him.Kooks and Pogues would stare at you,drool practically falling from their lips as you walked by,waiting to see what you would do next.You sighed,scrolling through your phone,deciding to delete your photos of Dylan,pouting as you did so.You just had to hope that he was over by now,you had let him down gently anyways.

You got up off your bed,deciding to leave the house for the first time in three days,pulling on a black one piece bathing suit,a tshirt and shorts over it.It was 11 AM which meant the beaches wouldnt be crowded yet but luckily you knew your way around The Cut.That included the small rocky beaches that Dylan had shown you during a surfing trip to watch the sunset.

You got into your car,your surfboard already tied to the roof.You stopped at a Dunkin Donuts drive thru to grab a large iced coffee on the way,listening to your playlist as you drove to The Cut.You remembered Dylan taking you down a dirt road that was supposed to be covered in cement but never ended up happening.

You pulled onto the side of the road with a sigh,putting your phone in your backpack that contained a towel and a bag of m and m’s,swinging it over your shoulder and standing on your tip toes so you could pull your surfboard off the top,carrying it by your side as you walked down the dirt hills,coming out at the rocky surfing spot that was well hidden by trees.

JJ shocked himself when he woke up before noon,the others still asleep.He had sighed,debating on getting up or going back to sleep.He wasnt sure what made him want to go to the hidden surfing spot that was a good ten minute walk from John.B’s.He didnt know why he wanted to wiggle his toes in the small,smooth pebbles so badly.

He was already in his bathing suit from the night before,getting up and ditching the idea of surfing,just wanting to swim for a bit.His converse smacked off the dirt,trying his best not to slip and fall on his way down the hill,holding onto the trees for balance before landing onto the pebbles,eyebrows furrowing when he noticed another person was already here.He froze up when he realized it was you,laying on top of your surfboard that rested on the pebbles,arms crossed and eyes closed,not caring about the world.

He considered turning around and running away,grinning when he noticed you werent here with a boy.THat meant that you were still single and nobody was ready to pounce on him if he attempted to talk to you.Your head turned to look at him,scared for a moment when you thought he was Dylan. “JJ?”You asked curiously,sitting up to look at him at a proper angle.

He cussed,realizing it was too late to turn around now that you saw him.He grinned,walking towards you,looking down. “Yeah.”He answered,trying really hard not to grin,trying not to blush or back away out of embarrassment. “Hi.”You answered,staring up at him,not knowing what to say or do. “Hi.”He replied,sitting down on the pebbles across from you.

“So like,what are you doing here?”He asked,trying to make conversation.He was probably the biggest flirt on the island and you were fantastic as manipulating and charming people.Why was this so hard? “I dont know,it’s just a nice day and I thought i’d surf but the waves suck today.”You shrugged,looking out at the calm,glittery water.He nodded,agreeing. “Yeah.You ever surf during a storm?”He asked,tugging at the hem of his shirt.

You grinned,nodding. “Yeah,I tried that once or twice.I wiped out and like,almost died so that sucks for me.The waves were pretty good though,not gonna lie.”You answered,remembering that adventure from a month back.Dylan was so worried the whole time,watching from the beach as you disappeared under the waves,coming back up a few moments later to gasp for air.

“Yeah,same thing happened to me last year.I scraped my whole leg.”He admitted,trying his best not to stare at you.You turned on your surfboard,grabbing your coffee and taking a sip of it.He peeled at his fingernails,considering getting up and going into the water. “Was it worth it?”You asked,making him smile. “Um,yeah id say so.”He replied,his face becoming red.

“I probably should’ve checked the weather before I left the house,its a really shitty day.I mean,before you got here obviously.”You took another sip of coffee,mixing the sugar at the bottom.He was a blushing mess,fighting the temptation to hide his face in his hands. “So um...where’s Dylan?”He asked,wanting to see how you’d react.You let out a sigh,biting the inside of your cheek. “It just wasnt meant to be,you know?”You asked,dissapointed when you realized he was probably just trying to get in your pants.

He nodded,understanding. “Yeah,I get that.How do you know when somethings meant to be?”He asked,slowly becoming more comfortable with you.You shrugged,not even knowing the answer.You had loved people before,you had loved all the people you had dated.You just werent in love with any of them.It just never felt right which definitely scared you.SOmetimes you wondered if you ever would love anyone like that.

“I dont even know,dude.”You admitted,standing up on your surfboard,hopping onto the pebbles,taking off your shirt and shorts,feeling JJ’s eyes glued to you as you bent over to put your clothes into your bag. “But I do know that it’s hot as fuck out here and that water looks nice so im going to go drown.”You grinned before walking down to the water,going up to your hips,letting out a sigh of relief when your burning heels hit the cool water.

JJ admired you from a far,covering his face with his hands when your back was turned to him,grinning like a fucking idiot.He finally decided to get up and join you,pulling off his tank top and hat,dragging his feet through the cold water,standing next to you,glancing over at you every couple of minutes,trying to figure out what you were staring at that you found so interesting.

“What are we looking at?”He asked,not seeing anything.You shrugged,wiggling your toes in the sand. “I dont know,just the clouds I guess.”You answered,looking up at him.He licked his lips,just watching you.He had never been physically close to you for longer than a minute or two even if he felt some sort of emotional connection to you since the moment he saw you.

It was a Saturday night at the beginning of June.A boneyard party was taking place,loud music,shitty beer,heated make out sessions and random games of truth or dare.Everyone was having a good time,doing whatever they pleased and getting absolutely fucking wasted.

JJ had been sipping a cup of beer,trying to listen to Pope when he heard laughter,turning to see where it was coming from.You were on Dylan’s back,your legs around his waist,arms wrapped around his shoulders,afraid you’d fall off.JJ couldnt take his eyes off of you the whole night,watching as you sat on Dylan’s lap,the boy leaving small kisses on your neck,forehead and cheeks.

It made JJ’s heart hurt,wishing it were him.On the other hand he almost wanted to yell at Dylan and call him an itiot for thinking he was different than your ex’s while another part of him wanted to yell at Dylan and try to figure out what made him so special that you spent so much time around him.JJ’s jaw clenched when he watched you kiss Dylan,wishing it were him that you were kissing.When you left the party you were wearing Dylan’s sweatshirt,holding the boys hand and probably going back to your place.

“How’d you find this place?It’s pretty well hidden.”He looked back at the empty beach,trying to figure out if you had walked because he hadnt seen your car.You looked down into the clear water,trying to figure out how far you’d be able to go without slipping under the water.

“Uhh….Dylan showed it to me.”You replied,not wanting to make things too awkward.He nodded,not pushing any further. “I feel like Dylan didnt deserve you not gonna lie.”He admitted.Sure,he had spoken to Dylan before and thought he was an okay guy.He wasnt an asshole but he just wasnt worthy of you in JJ’s eyes.

You giggled quietly at the statement,shaking your head. “You barely know me,JJ.How do you know what I deserve?”You asked,genuinely curious for his answer.He pouted,eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “Alright,here’s what ive learned about you in like,the last fifteen minutes.”He began,a small smile on his face.You nodded,waiting for him to continue.

“So,you like dunkin donuts,you like going on adventures for the experience and you dont really worry about consequences,you like to relax most of the time and I really want to get to know more about you.”He watched your puzzled expression,a nervous grin on his face. “You want to know more about me?How would you do that?”You asked,enjoying how nervous you could make him.

He glanced down to your lips,licking his own. “You know...a date.”He mumbled,chewing on his bottom lip. “You want to go on a date?What makes you worthy of that?”You teased,using his words against him.He rolled his eyes,looking down into the water. “I mean...I dunno,you’ll have to find out for yourself.Do you want to maybe go night swimming or something later tonight?I know a spot.”He offered,remembering the small waterfall that he had gone to with John.B and Pope last year.

You thought about it.JJ seemed sweet from what you knew but it would still be weird to go to a hidden area alone at night with someone you just met.But then again if things went south you could just kick him right in the dick. “Sounds like a date,Maybank.Just come by my house whenever,i’ll drive.”You told him,deciding that you should just leave.

There were no waves to surf or much to do so it would probably be wise to go back to your house and do your laundry and take a shower.His heart thumped in his chest,feeling a bit light headed at the thought of being yours.THere was no way this was real,he thought as he watched you walk from the water,swinging your backpack over your shoulder,getting your shoes on,holding your board and disappearing into the trees and out of his view.

He had rushed back to John.B’s,looking through every single shirt and every single pair of shorts that he had there,trying to find a good combination.He couldnt wait for John.B to wake up,shaking him by the shoulders until he was swatting the blonde’s hands away.

“What?”He asked,sitting up in his bed. “Its my turn!”JJ exclaimed,not helping with the confusion. “What?”John.B asked again,making JJ sigh. “God,keep up!Its my turn to be hers!”JJ was far too excited for his tired friend,the words sounding like static. “Who?”John.B asked,not thinking.JJ rolled his eyes,grabbing his friend by the arm and into the guest room-JJ’s room.

“Which outfit should I wear?”JJ asked,gesturing tot eh outfits he had laid out on the bed.He had waited over a year for this night,he shouldve prepared an outfit the moment he heard that you and Dylan had broken up. “I dont fuckin know.I dont know what girls are into.”John.B yawned,JJ’s eyes widened as he realised the problem,running into the living room to shake Kie back and forth.

“What?”She grumbled,too tired to open her eyes. “God,fuck.”JJ cursed,throwing the girl over his shoulder and bringing her into the room,her shouts becoming annoying when he finally set her down. “Which one?”He asked,looking at the outfits.

“For what?”She asked,looking down at the clothes. “Dammit!Im going on a date tonight and I cant mess this up.”He sighed,tugging at his hair. “A date with who?”Kiara asked,not quite understanding.JJ wasnt the type to go on dates.What had changed? “(Y/N).”JJ answered,making Kiara’s heart drop. “Are you kidding?Come on,JJ.You know whats going to happen!”She exclaimed,her words changing nothing.

“Does it really matter?”He asked,really just wanting to know what outfit to wear.Kiara smacked his arm,clearly mad. “Shes going to break you like she does to everyone!Why her out of all people?Cant you find a girl who’s not a play?You guys are just going to play eachother and hurt everyone!”She exclaimed,John.B nodding in agreement. “Oh,vomit!”JJ exclaimed,making the decision for himself,folding the clothes carefully and placing them on the bed.

“Im serious,JJ!She’s gonna pretend to love you and then you’re gonna fall in love and then shes gonna break you and come running to us!”Kiara shouted,sighing loudly.JJ simply rolled his eyes,kicking his two friends out,deciding he no longer needed their opinions.He tried on the outfit,jean shorts and a gray kildare t shirt,figuring he could wear his red hat with it.

He was far too nervous for tonight.He had heard about you going on a date once only for it to go nowhere,never seeing the boy again.The boy was Max,a seventeen year old brunette that went to boneyard parties and had dropped out of highschool during junior year.JJ let his curiosity get the best of him,asking about it. “So how’d it go?”JJ had asked,sipping his beer.

Max sighed,shrugging his shoulders. “I think I was too nervous the whole time,she just wasnt really into me.She kissed me though so I think it was worth it.”Max grinned at the memory.JJ found himself thinking about you later that night as he always did,thinking differently this time.

He wanted to know what your kisses would feel like,if they were gentle or rough and where you would put your hands.He saw you kiss Dylan before,your hands in the pockets of the boys’ shorts or in his hair.JJ had imagined what that would feel like,even attempting to lucid dream but everyone knows he isnt patient enough for shit like that.

Night time came way too quick.He had showered,trying to make his hair nice for you even if he was going to place a hat on top of it anyways.His hands were gripping onto the bathroom sink tight,breathing in and out slowly,trying to remain calm before getting dressed,putting on all of his rings.

He knew where your house was.It was one of the biggest houses on the island and the driveway was painted with clouds,rainbows and mermaids so it was easy to find.He ran down the dark streets,hoping nobody would call the cops on him.He walked up your colorful driveway,stopping when lights came on across the front yard.

He didnt know what set them off,wondering if your parents knew he was coming.THe door opened,revealing you in a yellow dress,the material only going halfway down your thighs,a leather jacket hanging off of you,black and yellow vans to match.

He felt his face go red,biting his lip. “You look really-um you look really pretty.”He chuckled,feeling embarrassed.You grinned,opening the garage by typing the pin into the key pad,your black car sitting there and waiting patiently for you. “Where are we going?”You asked,taking out your keys,about to get in when he stopped you.

“Can I drive?”He asked,giving you puppy dog eyes.You sighed,holding your keys tight,eventually giving in. “If you crash my car I will kill you.”You warned him,getting in the passengers seat that you hadnt sat in in forever.He got in,almost laughing.He had never been in such an expensive car before,pulling out of the garage,the door closing behind him.

“Seriously though,if we crash I will kill you.”You spoke seriously,making him smile. “I know,princess.”He replied,beginning the drive down the smooth road,hitting bumps once the tires rolled into The Cut.Somehow you ended up holding his hand,your thumb resting on one of his veins,the coolness of the metal rings made a slight shiver go up your spine.

He tried so hard not to squeal,imagining this for nearly two years.He rubbed the back of your hand lightly with his thumb,trying his best to remain as calm as possible,pulling over in the familiar area. “It’s right down here.”He told you,squeezing your hand lightly before letting go.

THe two of you got out of the car,your heart beat quickening as you followed him through the woods,using a flashlight that he had brought.You could hear the waterfall,glad it wasnt too far away.THe two of you emerged from the trees and into a clearing,a slow moving rive right in front of you,a small waterfall to your right.He was focused on you,watching as you took it all in,the area being lit up by the little bit of moonlight.

You took off your jacket,unzipping the dress to reveal a white bikini underneath,placing them on top of your bag so they wouldnt get wet or dirty.He smiled,tugging off his shorts and t shirt,walking into the cold shallow water,knowing where the deep parts were.

You came in soon after,deciding to just sit in the shallow water while he jumped off the rocks and into the deep,coming up to the surface with his hair soaked and fallen into his face.He wiped it away,coming to sit next to you,admiring the waterfall. “So…”He tried to start a conversation,not quite knowing what to say.You smiled,looking over at him.

“What?”You asked,your voice soft and smooth as you spoke.He leaned back in the water,not quite laying down. “So whats up with you?”He asked,reaching for your hand,smiling when you let him intertwine his fingers with yours. “In what way?”You asked,curious as to what he meant. “I mean you’re like,the Queen of the kooks yet you date pogues and hang around The Cut.Why?”He asked,his heels digging into the pebble below him.

You shrugged. “I mean,kooks aren't really impressive.They’re all the same,you guys have actual personalities.”You laughed,hoping he wouldnt ask the question you dreaded most.He nodded in agreement,sitting up properly.The light crashing of the water wasnt really noticeable anymore,he was too focus on the conversation.

“I want you to tell me everything I should know about you within the next minute.Go!”He exclaimed,watching as you tried to think,surprised. “Um...um okay,my favorite color is (Y/F/C),I hate strawberry jelly,I have a dog named Hugo and hes literally the love of my life...I have slight caffeine addiction,I dont know.”You laughed,not ever thinking about this before.He nodded,urging you to keep going.

“Uhh...my favorite show is Stranger Things,my favorite movie is The Outsiders because Dally,obviously...umm I still believe in mermaids and i’ve always wanted to build a castle.”You hoped that was enough,glad when he smiled.

“You still believe in mermaids?”He asked,a goofy smile on his face. “Shut up,Maybank.This isnt fair,you have to tell me about you now.”You turned on your side,facing him completely.He looked shocked,not thinking that you would turn the question back on him. “You have a minute-starting now.”You announced,his thoughts moving to fast for his mouth to keep up.

“Okay,ummm...uhhh….I’ve always wanted to live in Yucatan,my favorite color is blue...I dont have a favorite TV show...I like the Harry Potter movies but i’ve never read the books...growing up I always had a huge crush on Hermione and I believed in Santa Claus until I was twelve.I hate butterflies,I dont really like coffee because energy drinks are better and I go by JJ because I hate my actual name.”He finished,biting his lip.

You hummed,reflecting on what he just said. “Im a simp for Draco Malfoy.”You admitted,hearing him chuckle. “So you have a thing for blondes?”He asked,a cocky smirk on his face.You shushed him,rolling your eyes. “I mean,i’ve got a thing for gorgeous girls so I guess it works out.”He winked at you,a sly smirk on his face.

You felt your cheeks get hot,glancing away from him.He thought about what he was about to do for a whole two seconds,considering how it could effect his future with you. “(Y/N).”he mumbled,making you turn back to him.He waited a moment and a half before leaning in,pecking your lips lightly and pulling away,understanding why Max had spoke so fondly of the memory.

You bit your lip,pulling him into another kiss,your warm hand going into his wet hair,tugging at the slightly wavy locks.He smiled into the kiss,his hands ending up on your waist,trying to take in every detail of the moment that he knew would end soon.When you pulled away your hand remained in his hair,twirling it between your thumb and pointer finger.

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