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rynbutt · 3 days

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pierced. epilogue. | spencer reid.

It's Spencer's birthday and there are a lot of things to be shared.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content (MDNI), kissing, other stuff shhh

a/n: im pretty proud of this one fr

His kiss against your lips was feverish– it was hungry and wanting, punctuated by his warm hand desperately squeezing the skin of your thigh, the other tangled in your hair as it sprawled over your pillow like a halo.

You were always breathtaking like this– your face contorted in pleasure as you breathed soft whines and moans, unable to form coherent words. Spencer found it fascinating, how you bewitched him body and soul. You made everything melt away with your gentle touch and your soft kisses. Maybe it was how you cradled his face like you would divine art. Maybe it was how you looked at him, eyes so sultry and enchanting yet wide with innocence.

Spencer couldn’t handle it half the time, it drove him mad how he longed for you in every aspect of his life, how he spent every waking minute away from you wishing you were wrapped in the safety of his arms, where he knew no one and nothing could harm you.

“Happy birthday, baby,” your voice was breathless as you whispered the words against his lips. One of your hands pressed into the nape of his neck, the other gripped the wrist beside your head, holding onto anything that would ground you in reality.

Spencer responded by kissing you again, swallowing your breathless moans as he snapped his hips against the soft flesh of your ass. The sounds were lewd and salacious, but it only provoked him further. His grip on your thigh was bruising at best, his mind growing foggy with desire as he lost control of his ability to notice the obvious strength he had over you.

You didn’t mind though– you never did. It only spurred you on further, your moans and whines growing louder and louder as your belly warmed. Tonight was supposed to be about him. It was his birthday after all and you wanted him to be the centre of attention. But when you spread your legs for him, your curves adorned in delicate lace, he couldn’t help himself.

“Spence–” You cut yourself off as another whine left your dry throat; it seems you forgot how to naturally function when Spencer’s cock was splitting you open, your head filled with nonsense the moment he filled you to the brim.

“Fuck, angel–” Spencer’s voice was low with lust, his lips pressing to the underside of your jaw. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, his lips pressing desperate kisses to your smooth skin.

Spencer never got tired of you, he knows he never will. He’s so hopelessly in love with you and you have him wrapped around your delicate finger despite what you like to think. You were wrapped around him so tight, your core pulsing around him with such desperation.

He’s surprised he lasted as long as he did. You looked so beautiful with your skin adorned with intricate lace and bows– he kept it on while he fucked you, admiring every dip and curve of your body, truly convinced every part of you was carefully crafted for him and him alone.

Your hands combed through his hair as he calmed down, your legs tangled with his and the sheets. While fucking you was his favourite pass time; this part was always worth the wait. His body was heavy with exhaustion but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were always so gentle, something he both envied and valued in you. You were safe; you were home.

“Marry me.” The words left his lips in a whisper. It bothered him how he hadn’t asked you yet– how he hadn’t even thought about it until that very moment. Spencer had always questioned the notion of marriage, wondering why people did it when– to him– it seemed outdated; almost pointless. He saw it with his own parents and he saw it with his friend, but with you it was different. Calling you his wife made him feel warm, being able to put a ring on your finger and call you his forever. He was going against his own reasoning and Spencer was willing to say his old way of thinking about marriage was wrong. Because with you, it seemed like the only reasonable choice he had ever made.

Your fingers stilled against his hair, your heart beating hard in your chest. “What?” You almost thought you misheard him.

“Marry me.” Spencer spoke a little louder, his chest blooming with warmth at the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. You gently covered your mouth as a small surprised laugh left your throat, you didn’t mean to laugh, you really didn’t, but Spencer Reid– The Dr. Spencer Reid– wanted to marry you. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious,” he feigned offence, pulling your hand away from your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, I just–” You sighed, eyes blinking up at him softly, “You, Dr. ‘I don’t really believe in marriage’ want to marry me?”

He let out a breath. “I’ve thought about it.” He thought about it for maybe four seconds before deciding because he already knew what the answer would be, “and I want it. I didn’t think I would, but then I met you and… it just seems like the only logical progression.”

“Mm, I love when you talk about logical progressions,” you teased, your hands cupping his face gently, resting your forehead against his.

“You still haven’t answered me.” Spencer wasn’t nervous, he knew you loved him and wanted to be with him. Even if you said no, he wouldn’t mull over it because he would know that you had your own reasons.

“What do you think the answer will be?” You were curious and it was so easy to tease him. He didn’t like when people pushed his buttons, but you could push all you like and he would adore you all the same.

“I think you’ll dance around it just to annoy me,” he started with a grin, “but inevitably you’ll say yes because the idea of getting to call yourself Mrs Reid would be too good to pass up.”

Oh how he knows you.

“Mm, you caught me,” you giggled softly, drowning in the softness of his beautiful brown eyes. You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone, “I’d love to marry you, Spencer.”

He smiled coyly. “See?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, scooting yourself closer to him to press against his warm skin. He draped an arm over your waist, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in your scent. This is exactly how he wanted to spend his 30th birthday, with you wrapped in his arms, tracing letters into your hip as your nails gently scraped against the skin of his back, following every gentle ridge of his ribs and spine, memorising his body beneath your fingertips.

“Are you sure we have to go?” Spencer called to you as he stood in front of your full-length mirror tying his tie. The end of the day came far too quickly– one minute he had your warmth wrapped around him, your lips and bodies clashing in feverish need. Now he was getting ready to go to dinner at a new fancy restaurant deep in the city when he would much rather stay tangled with you in bed.

“Yes, baby,” You replied, lining your lips in your bathroom mirror. “Penelope and JJ want to make tonight special for you for your birthday.”

You had already made it special. You made him breakfast, spoiled him far beyond what he deserved, then let him have you for hours. His birthday was already perfect but he knew his friends had tried hard to do something nice for him– but you said yes to his marriage proposal, so he’s doubtful this dinner could at all improve his day.

You stepped out of the bathroom, clasping the necklace Spencer had got you for your birthday last year around your neck. Your heels clicked against the floor in a way that was so alluring he was ready to ditch the dinner and have you again. But you would definitely protest, not wanting him to ruin your perfectly styled hair and makeup. He would just have to hold it together for a bit longer.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, a smile playing on his lips. Your dress hugged your hips and waist, the neckline showing off your cleavage and the slit up the side to your mid thigh sending him reeling. You smiled at him, reaching for his tie to adjust it.

“You look very handsome,” you pressed up on your toes, kissing his cheek. His hands fell to your waist, holding you close as he pressed a peck to your lips. “Alright, we should go.” Spencer let out a soft sigh, holding his elbow out for you to link your arm with his. You chuckled softly, holding his bicep as the two of you left your shared apartment.

Spencer’s fingers were laced with yours as you walked into the restaurant, walking slightly slower than he normally did since you were in heels; something you found rather adorable. Derek saw him first, wrapping his arms around Spencer and patting his back as he wished him a happy birthday. Derek planted a kiss on your cheek as he hugged you next, letting the rest of the team swarm Spencer with hugs, birthday wishes and presents. Spencer pulled your chair out for you before sitting down next to you, scooting his chair slightly closer to yours. He had his hand on your thigh the whole night, his thumb stroking the side of your knee.

“More drinks! This is a day to celebrate!” Penelope cheered, pouring herself and JJ another glass of wine. Derek swirled his tumbler of whiskey around, lifting it up in a cheers motion to Spencer.

“Amen to that,” he nodded before taking a sip.

“What are you having, Reid? On me,” Emily offered, eyes narrowing at the man of the hour. Spencer waved her off, not typically one for drinking.

“Give mine to Y/N, I’m good,” Spencer said.

“No, no, I’m good, Spence,” you squeezed his hand under the table.

“Whaaat!” Penelope looked at you, stopping mid-sip of wine. “My loves, we must celebrate!” She pointed at the both of you and Spencer rolled his eyes playfully.

“Fine, but nothing too strong, please,” Spencer gave in, earning a cheer from everyone at the table.

Emily turned to you, “what’s my girl having? Gin and tonic? Spiced rum? Wine? Name it and you’ve got it,” she grinned.

“No, I’m really good, thank you,” you replied with a breathy laugh, desperate to get the attention off of you. Emily noticed your slight embarrassment and backed off, getting up to get Spencer a drink from the bar.

You quietly excused yourself, getting up and taking your purse to the bathroom. Spencer could tell something was bothering you. He excused himself to Hotch, following you to the back of the restaurant. He gently knocked on the bathroom door, calling your name. You washed your hands in the sink, letting out a sigh before opening the door.

“Are you okay, angel?” Spencer asked, voice laced with concern. He searched your eyes for a moment and he could tell something was on your mind.

“I’m pregnant, Spence.”

Spencer felt his mind go blank, his eyes widening at your confession. You didn’t sound upset when you said it, nor did you sound thrilled. You wanted to gauge his reaction before you started tangling yourself up in your own thoughts.

After a year of dating, Spencer had mentioned the idea of kids to you, asking you if it’s something you wanted. You knew he wanted it, he was so good with kids and kids gravitated to him. It made your heart swell whenever he would play with Henry or Jack, wondering if that’s something you wanted for yourself. You wanted to give him that, of course you did. But when he asked you, you had just got a promotion and you were about to begin your second semester back at school and Spencer’s job was crazy, it didn’t seem like adequate timing. So you told him one day.

One day was apparently today.

“You’re… You’re pregnant?” He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as the words sank in. His heart fluttered at the idea of you carrying his baby, a little boy or girl, he didn’t care. You were going to have his baby. He was going to be a family with you.

“Yeah, I am,” a smile tugged at your lips. “I wanted to tell you in a more… creative way? Like hide it in a book or give you a crossword or something but–” You cut yourself off, gently shrugging your shoulders as Spencer reached for your hands.

“How–How far along are you?” His voice was shaky, he was so nervous and excited and had no idea where to put all the emotions he was feeling.

“Eight weeks,” you grinned.

“Shit,” he cursed, a smile breaking out across his face. He pulled you in for a kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks. You held his suit jacket in your fists, kissing him back with just as much excitement and love. He pulled away slightly, “this is by far the best birthday present.”

You chuckled softly, “lucky her parents are hitched,” you teased.

“You know you can’t actually tell the sex of a foetus until 18 to 21 weeks, baby,” he said matter-of-factly. He gestured his head to the side, “it’s possible as early as 14 weeks but–”

You kissed him again to shut him up, “call it a mother’s intuition, Spence." Spencer led you back to the table, refusing to let go of your hand for the rest of the night. He had a lot of trouble sitting on all the news he had to share but he would tell them another time, all he wanted to do was spend the night with you and enjoy every waking minute of you.

a/n: i know most of you won't read this but i just wanna say thank you for reading this, i know it's not super canon compliant but it was more just a fluffy little series for me to write and i had a blast. and i know not everyone likes the pregnancy trope but god dammit! our boy deserves a family of his own!

i will definitely be doing more series in the future and i'm already working on another project that i hope you'll all like! anywho, love all of you and imma give you all a fat kiss goodnight, muah!

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencereidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn @valinherfantasyworld @khxna @maybe-not-this @shardsofmarxx @danadinosaur3 @justsarahbella @ah-blossom @lorelaireid @btskzfav @reidsdoll @pinkpantheris @violetvsworld @readergf @pangirl-fangirl @emideadpoets @blackbeautyiloveyouso @amethyst-marie368 @amethyst-marie368

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #x reader #cm spencer #dr reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #cm smut #criminal minds smut #spencer

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 days

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Cat People - LN

Summary: Lando prefers dogs, they match his energy. But his girlfriend has been labelled by friends, family and fans alike as an "orange cat" and with her birthday coming up he's all out of ideas for gifts.

No part 2 requests please

Lando groans as he sits in Max's house.

"I don't know why you're struggling so much, mate. Y/n always says she doesn't want a big deal out of her birthday." Max states though he knows that if P said that then he'd be just as stressed about trying to get it right.

It's not till Max's cat jumps up on the bed next to Lando that he's struck with an idea.

"Y/n loves your cats."

"Ok..." Max frowns not really sure where Lando is going with this.

"I could get her a cat."

"You don't like cats."

"I never said that...I just prefer dogs...but y/n loves cats. All the fans call her an orange cat."

"That doesn't mean you should get her a cat."

"You guys always say she's like an orange cat."

"That's because she has those weird bursts of energy. Like...that time she was just lying there like half asleep, then suddenly she sat up threw a pillow at you and practically ran out the room." Max recalls making Lando grin since y/n actually does that quite a lot. "And she lets every intrusive thought be followed through on."

That's true. Just the other day y/n bit into a new blusher she'd bought because it looked like jelly. There was instant regret and enough wallowing over her own actions that Lando decided to just buy her a new one, really hoping she wouldn't repeat her actions.

"I'm getting her a cat." Lando declares earning a sigh and head shake.

Reasoning with Lando is out the window and he's already invested in the idea. Recruiting Max to aid him despite his comments of how Lando's apartment in Monaco is probably not the best place in the world for a cat.

It took some doing and Lando ended up having to use Max Verstappen's apartment as a hold for the kitten before her birthday. Thankfully the world champion actually knows how to care for cats and did alright to keep the ginger kitten happy.

"Hey, thanks for the help mate." Lando states as Max hands the carrier to him. The ungodly hour of 6AM is unwelcome to both of them but Max is happy to help and Lando had to get the kitten before y/n woke up.

"No it's ok, I hope she loves him. He's very cute." Max smiles earning a smile. "I never thought of you as much of a cat person."

"I'm not...but y/n is." Lando sighs while looking down at the cat. "Probably going to be her soulmate in cat form. Anyway, I'll let you sleep. Thanks again, mate."

"No problem."

And like that he's back with the new cat in tow. He'd been hiding all the cat stuff in his car which he's spent the morning before heading to Max's setting everything up while y/n was still sleeping peacefully.

"Y/n..." Lando whispers wanting to wake y/n up as gently as possible and she does ease from her sleep, groaning and stretching. "Happy birthday baby."

"Thank you..." Y/n smiles earning a grin as he leans down and kisses her. "Oooh...pancakes for breakfast? I-"

Her sentence is cut short by a squeak making her frown.

"What-"

"Close you eyes! I've got a surprise for you." Lando exclaims in a slightly rushed panic since he was hoping the kitten would be quiet till she was a little bit more awake.

"Why? What's-"

"Please."

Y/n sighs covering her eyes while Lando picks the fluffy ginger kitten from the carrier before gently placing him in her lap making her eyes snap open with a gasp.

"Shut up. Stop. You did not!" Y/n exclaims with a gasp picking up the cat with tears very much appearing quickly. "You got me a cat?"

"I wasn't sure what to get you and I figured it'd be on brand."

"The McLaren cat?" Y/n laughs earning a look from him before he laughs.

"No!" Lando laughs though now he's thinking of it, it does make sense. "I mean that works too but all the fans and our friends call you an orange cat because of the way you act."

"Oh. OH!" Y/n gasps making him laugh. "What should we call him?"

"Whatever you want."

"Cats always have weird names don't they?" Y/n hums in thought while seeming to struggle to take her eyes off of the cat who seems equally as immediately attached to y/n as she is to him. "I think...there's only one option really."

"And what would that be?"

"Senna."

Lando's eyebrows raise but he smiles feeling like she really just locked in the fact that she is definitely his soulmate. There really isn't anyone else he could possibly find himself better that y/n.

Y/n looks at Lando with a grin.

"Is that a yes to Senna?"

"I think it's perfect for him." Lando nods with a smile.

It's really stupid to be jealous of a cat, but y/n took all of 10 minutes to be joint at the hip with Senna.

The following week after her birthday Lando found that he wasn't getting quite the affection from y/n he'd become accustom throughout their entire relationship.

He also noticed that actually of the two Senna is the lesser of energetic in general and y/n seems to be the one with random bursts of energy that do in turn trigger little bursts of energy from Senna. And while he's jealous, Lando does have to admit it's kind of cute seeing how the two have seemed to bond over sharing a personality even if Senna is ever so slightly more chilled out.

Although in true cat fashion, he has managed to already smash a glass that he nudged off the kitchen counter.

"Hey, you look so sad over here on your own." Y/n smiles sliding herself into Lando's lap as he sits at his gaming PC, Senna seemingly finally having left her side. "What's wrong? You've been huffing and puffing all day."

"No I haven't."

"Is it because you want some love too?" Y/n whispers reading him like a book. "I'm only cuddling him so much so he knows what to expect when I don't have you around. Anyway, just think of Senna as a trail."

"A trail for what?" Lando frowns making her smile.

"For if the day ever comes that we have a kids." Y/n smiles earning a grin from the driver. "But...if you're jealous of a cat getting attention. Who knows if you could handle a baby."

"Well no, that's-"

"I'm kidding. You're just so easy to wind up." Y/n laughs then kissing him. "But Senna is my first baby and he's just a baby."

"He is." Lando hums then sighing. "He's a pretty chill cat, so I guess it could be worse."

Almost as if he's a paid actor, Senna appears and jumps onto y/n's lap and she smiles as Lando does actually move to stroke the kitten gently.

"I'm just going to have to make sure I give both of my boys all my love and affection. Which is going to be pretty easy because I love you both very much." Y/n smiles feeling Lando kiss her softly.

"Actually I did get some pretty nice pictures of the two of you...and video...can I post them on my other accounts please?" Lando asks earning a smile and nod as Senna starts purring loudly, settling down to lie on the two of them. "He's my baby too for the record."

"Good. Because I actually think he loves you just as much as me." Y/n smiles pulling her phone out and revealing her lock screen as a picture of Senna curled up, nuzzled in Lando's neck, on top of his shoulder as he sleeps in their bed. "If you're sharing pictures and videos of me and Senna, can I share this?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Good, before I have another one of him just curled up on your chest."

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scotianostra · 2 days

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Happy tenth birthday to The Kelpies.

The Kelpies, located in Falkirk, tower a colossal 30 metres above the Forth and Clyde Canal and form a dramatic gateway to the canal entrance on the East Coast of Scotland. Created by Scotland's leading sculptor Andy Scott, The Kelpies are a monument to horse powered heritage across Central Scotland.

Some details of the Kelpies, each structure contains approximately 18,000 individual pieces. There is over 1.5 miles of steel in each structure. They each weigh over 300 tonnes and sit on 1,200 tonne foundations. Each structure has 464 steel plates In a monumental feat of engineering, The Kelpies rose from the ground in just 90 days, in late 2013.

Nearly one million people visited the Kelpies sculptures in Falkirk in the first year, since then the visitor numbers have declined, but still have numbers of over 500,000 a year

Some people criticise the cost of The Kelpies, said to be around £5 million, to me it is justified, it does bring a lot of people into the area of Falkirk in general, and are we to be the generation that forgets about public art just because of the costs? I love them and have visited them to many times to remember of the years, I may not be in Falkirk now, but I will take a trip to The Helix again and grab more pics, enjoy a coffee and take in the views over to The Ochils.

This saturday the Helix is hosting a tenth party to celebrate their birthday, the day event is free for all to attend and includes a producers market, face painters, Clydesdale Horse Demonstrations, Pipe Bands and much more. The evening event is ticked and you have performances by Rebecca Vasmant, Callum Beattie, the Red Hot Chilli Pipers, and much more., there are still some tickets available.

The last three pics were taken by myself on this day 2020.

#scotland #scottish #falkirk #Grangemouth #Kelpies #andy scott

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panxramic · 3 days

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Missa cubito ohmygod today’s stream was SOOO.

Firstly, I haven’t talked about this but the fact that q!Missa has finally accepted the family home as his home too makes me want to snob. The fact that he calls it HIS home too, after spending so long distancing himself and saying that he doesn’t deserve to live with them? It makes my heart spin. And yes he still has his movements of self doubt but he knows now that this is his home and this is where he will always return to no matter what.

And I adore the little things that Missa notices. Last stream he got so giddy over the barrel in the house with his name on it and got so happy that he was included with the rest of the family even if he didn’t have anything in it. And then once again today gasping and getting happy at seeing the barrel again as if it was the first time all over. Missa loves being loved and he adores the little things the family does to show it. And how does he return the favor? With drawings he can leave behind dedicated to each one of them. Because he loves his family and he will find a way to physically show it even if he can’t be awake when they are.

And ohhh today with the cakes. He struggled so much and he lost so much energy trying to make the birthday cake for Tallulah but he would not give up until he got it done for both of them because his kids deserve it. And can I also point out I don’t think he realized it was also Chayanne’s birthday but he still made him a cake because he wanted to give something to his son and not make him feel left out. And when he was making the drawing for Tallulah he would not stop and he would not let ANYTHING distract him because his daughter deserves the world and she deserves the perfect painting.

Then come the raccoons. He goes and helps them clean because maybe he can earn money for the family and help out more around the house -> something Missa has always struggled with. He always wants to provide for the family the way they have him so he goes along with these raccoons. Then it all goes to shit when Bad logs on and he finds out it was his home they were cleaning. He finds the dead bodies and he gets scared because… who is this man he’s been calling his friend? Why does he have a grave of bodies underneath his home?

Missa runs. He tries to run away from q!Bad but he always finds him. And then it gets revealed that Missa was working with the raccoons and Bad backs away from Missa because how could he betray him. And Missa does try to explain it, he doesn’t know what is going on. He’s lost and confused and no one is answering his questions. q!Bad threatens and leaves q!Missa with the racoons just for the racoons to stab Missa in the back and rob him too.

This is when he asks himself, who can he trust? q!Bad isn’t who he thought he was, and the racoons betrayed him. He has considered q!Bad a friend for a long time because he’s always on when Missa is on and is always there to help (though if you ask me I would argue the opposite). He tried finding a way to justify Bad’s behavior, even the stuff chat brings up until he can’t. So, he goes back home and prepares a letter to Phil.

Because he realizes after everything in his life, after continuously trusting and relying on the wrong people, he concludes he can only trust q!Phil.

Missa never really leaves letters. His thing has always been paintings and small gifts. But for the first time (in what might be a long time) he leaves Phil a letter. Now that he’s accepted this is his home, he sees it’s also a place people can use to hurt him, in this case q!Bad.

Notice how when q!Bad came back and said he was gonna prank q!Phil and left, q!Missa immediately ran in to check on the kids? His priority and his fear will always be losing his family. He has spent so much of his life pushing himself a way from them, he doesn’t want to lose them when they’re so so close.

But as always… Missa runs. He runs away and sleeps somewhere else for tonight.

In his defense, I will say that this time it’s different. He’s running to protect his family. Is it the best option? I don’t think so. Missa always has struggled with feeling like he isn’t enough. And in this case, his families lives could be in danger so he runs away, because it’s his fault and he isn’t enough to protect them.

I will say. Things have changed. Because this time around he warned Phil. These two have had SOOO many instances of miscommunication and not talking to one another and we finally have a moment in which Phil is hearing directly from Missa. Not some other character, not his kids, Missa.

And the last thing Missa said when he went to bed. He wasn’t sleeping on a bed, because the only bed he will ever sleep on is the one in his home. LIKE FUCK. Yes he ran, yes he left to protect his family. But that’s his home. That’s where he will ALWAYS return to for comfort and safety. It isn’t a forever. It’s just for now.

For the first time, Missa is certain he will always have a home to return to.

#sorry if this makes no sense #I love Missa cubito so much #I just had to spit this out #qsmp #marv rants #death family #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #deathduo

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miley1442111 · 3 days

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fix it together- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :) thank you guys for all the love on the first part of this!!!!

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron said some horrible things. He's trying to fix it, right?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, happy ending :)

part 1- fix it.

Aaron

The last few weeks had been… tense. Going back to work was fine and we still acted like a couple, don’t get me wrong. Yet, everything felt disgustingly different. The gifts hadn’t been working. The dates hadn’t been working. Every second of my days were spent thinking over what I’d said on that horrible night. Did I ask for an annulment? What was I thinking? I love you more than anything, I want you forever. Since the first date I’d known you were my girl, my forever girl. Every night I’ve been trying to make it clear to you that I want you. That I think you’re a good mother. Even the nights you'd stayed at Penelope's.

After Jack's birthday, you'd gone to Penelope's for 3 nights, I only saw you during the day at work, and even then you didn't look at me, let alone speak to me. You came home because you missed Jack.

Since then, you’ve been distant, focusing on work, or Jack more often than not. So I decided something.

I made all the distractions go away. Jack went off to his cousin's house, and I pulled us out of work for a full week, much to Strauss’s annoyance. Only thing is that I hadn’t told you.

Well, this better work.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Honey?” I cleared my throat, still groggy from waking up a few minutes prior. You weren’t in bed, you’d recently stopped our regular 5 minutes of hazy cuddling as we both wake up. My third favourite part of the day. My second favourite being when you come to me at 2:07pm everyday at work and give me a kiss, my first favourite being the kiss and hug you give me at the end of the day, just after tucking Jack in. All three had stopped in recent weeks.

“Yeah?” You called from the bathroom, doing your regular morning routine.

“I called us out of work,” I yawned and heard your quickened footsteps, then you appeared in front of me. You looked so beautiful, as always. A random and oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. I started to sweat just thinking about it.

“What? Why?! We have people who need our help, we have cases-” You started rambling as I got up and cupped your face, kissing you.

“Because I need you. I need you to be you again,” I whispered against your lips, hoping this would work. “So we’re going to have a nice few days, yeah? Today we have your appointment and we’ll have another talk. Then we can just relax for the rest of the week.”

“The week?” you stressed and I rolled my eyes, kissing you again. Your lips were so perfect. You’d brushed your teeth, not that I mind your morning breath. Not that I mind anything about you.

“Please,” I was begging and I wasn’t even ashamed. “Please honey,” I wrapped my hands around your waist, trying to persuade you.

“Aaron-”

“Don’t call me Aaron,” You’d stopped calling me the usual ‘baby’ or ‘darling’, or my favourite ‘love’. “Please. I want to be normal again. I don’t want this distance, I adore you more than anything.”

I could tell you felt conflicted. I hurt you. I know I did.

“Aaron,” another stab to my heart. “Fine, we’ll take this week off, and we can… talk.”

“Thank you my love,” I smile, pressing kisses along your exposed collarbone. You chuckled. I’d missed your laughter. I’d missed you.

“Ok baby, come on, I need to shower,” you giggled against me and I could feel my heart mending. Baby. I couldn’t stop the grin on my lips. I let go of you, but not before kissing you again. My perfect wife.

“Can I join?” I smirked, and you scoffed.

“Don’t push your luck Hotchner,” You chuckled. This was it. This is what it used to be. Flirty, loving, and fun. Before I ruined everything.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

Forgiving Aaron was the easy part. Worrying if every parenting decision was the right one, was pure agony.

Is it wrong to say that like that? Should I have done this a different way? Was that right?

And your brain’s personal favourite:

What would Haley have done?

You were beating yourself up about it all for the past few weeks. You felt you had ruined Jack’s birthday with your own insecurities, since he’d asked if you were alright the day after.

Telling Jack you were pregnant was a highlight from the past few weeks. He was ecstatic to find out he’d be getting a little sibling. He already wanted to meet them and he understood that there would be times where either of you wouldn’t be able to play with him when his sibling arrived.

Aaron had been grovelling to the highest degree. Flowers once a week, date nights, house chores, taking paperwork from you so you don’t need to do it, getting any and all pregnancy cravings, and helping you deal with all your morning sickness and migraines.

It was maddening. You were going to go insane if you weren’t careful.

Yet, you felt like every second of every day was spent thinking about your parenting choices and just wondering if having another baby was even a good idea. Would your new child even like you? Would this ruin your relationship with Jack? What was going to happen when they grow up? Did Aaron really think your parenting is terrible?

Ok, so maybe you haven’t forgiven him just yet. Or at all.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay back in bed, a book in hand as Aaron pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You stared at the words on the page, trying to make sense of them when your brain was so clouded. Your levels of anxiety had risen greatly, which you both knew was not good for your baby. Aaron had been trying to lift some of the stress off your shoulders with his constant doting, but you knew that the stress was Aaron. From the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep, you felt like you were putting up a show. Being the perfect wife, perfect (probably shitty, you thought anyway) mother, perfect agent. It was exhausting. You wanted to go back to before, back to when you didn’t have to pretend everything was alright.

You pushed him off you and lay on your side, a regular occurrence. Aaron felt dejected. He’d hurt you so badly, and he didn’t know what to do to fix it.

“Baby?” he spoke into the room.

“Yes Aaron?” You answered.

“Do you still love me?” He asked in a small voice. He felt raw and full of emotion. Honestly, he was terrified of the answer.

“Do I still love you?” You scoffed. “I think I should be the one asking that. You were the one mentioning getting an annulment.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that… I was just-” He tried but you shot out of bed, staring at him with an anger in your eyes he could only describe as animalistic.

“ 'You just' what Aaron? What?!” You squealed, all the emotions that you’d let build up, coming out at once. “I’ve been trying to be a good wife, to be a good mother for the past 4 fucking years Aaron. I have been that for you, I have been that for you and Jack, and I’m so happy to do it because I love the both of you more than anything! And all I ask in return is that you love and respect me! That is what you promised me on your wedding day! You didn’t fucking do that. You threw our marriage under the bus and compared me to your ex wife, the second you got slightly stressed. I’m sure Haley did a much better job than me Aaron, I’m sure she did! But I’m here Aaron. I love you. I love Jack. I have dedicated my life to the two of you, to our family! And now I feel like I’ve made a mistake in doing that, because the second you get overwhelmed, I’m in the first person that gets thrown under the bus?! To get reduced to nothing by you?! That’s not fucking fair Aaron, It’s not fair! And the worst part is that I fucking forgave you weeks ago, but I can’t forgive myself! I feel like such a shit mother every single day! I feel like I’m failing everyday, and that our baby will fucking hate me because it’ll somehow know that I’m the second choice! That it’ll know you’d rather be with someone who’s dead! So don’t come to me asking stupid fucking questions like that when you know the fucking answer Aaron. You don’t need to humiliate me more than you already have.”

You walked out of your shared bathroom, down the stairs into the living room, and sobbed your eyes out.

Aaron sat up in the bed, thankful that Jack wasn’t home today, but devastated by your words, and his actions. Why had he even brought up an annulment?

He couldn’t even begin to dissect the feelings he had when the bile in his throat suddenly came on and he had to run to the bathroom, and spill it into the toilet. Your words hit him like a knife, throwing his own words back in his face in the most disgusting way to do it, directed at you. You were an amazing mother, an amazing wife. And yet, you thought you were worthless. He had made you feel worthless. He felt terrible. He didn’t want Haley. Yes, he’d loved her for a long time, yes their divorce was heartbreaking. But he loved you now, and he didn’t ever want to take that for granted. He’d gotten two people who loved him unconditionally, two people who loved him enough to have a child with him, two people that would put themselves in harm’s way for him.

And he fucked it up. Twice.

He followed you downstairs, standing in the doorway as you sobbed into the couch cushions, then walked over and put a hand on your back. You didn’t push him off, that must be a good sign, right? He moved you to sit on his lap, your head in his shoulder as he calmed you down.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I was awful to you. I don’t want an annulment, I never want an annulment. I know it sounds bad but I was just so used to Haley hanging a divorce over my head for so long, it just came out. You are who I want, who I would choose, every single time. You are a good mother. You’re going to be a good mother. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. That I ever made you doubt me. I never want to hurt you like this again. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done, I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a half chuckle- half sob and pulled away. “Aaron, I need you to swear to me that you will never fucking bring up us breaking up again, unless you actually mean it.”

“I swear.”

“And I need you to promise me that you’ll work on stopping all the reactive bullshit we’ve been doing,” You sighed.

“I promise.”

“Then, I think we’ll be ok,” You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, settling your head back against his neck.

“So we’re ok again?” He asked hopefully.

“Not yet, no,” You stated and his hope vanished.

“Honey-”

“We will be, soon.”

He smiled again. You were his, always. Just as he was yours, always. Anything, you could get through.

Together.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

people that asked to be tagged: @michasia24 @pear-1206 @randomrosie01 @tonystankhere

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine

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suddencolds · 1 day

Text

Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early.

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.”

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside.

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A Y: you need anything else?

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum.

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise.

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work.

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside.

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough.

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom.

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take.

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that.

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏#my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future!#yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

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shanastoryteller · 2 days

Note

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

#ling shows up halfway through this deception and is like hi ed why are you dressed like that and why are you talking like that #and ed has to strangle a prince of xing to keep his fucking mouth shut #every second he's ever spent at court was a mistake #al and winry are pulled between being appalled about this whole thing and thinking it's the funniest thing they've ever heard #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #fma

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mammon-s · 2 days

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HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY TO LEVI!!

I feel like Levi is usually pretty subby but when his envy and jealous bubbles up too much he definitely gets rough and kind of mean.

Cw: my first longerish writing so it’s kind of rough, gn reader, poly reader, Levi is mean calls you a slut & whore, slight dub con possibly (reader says he’s being too rough but he doesn’t slow down) but he gets subby and apoplectic after everything lol

Seeing Solomon brush your hair from your face as you lean over a spell book together, causing you to get flustered.

Seeing Belphie cuddling up next to you on the couch resting his head on your lap as you play with his hair.

Seeing Mammon come out of your room with that smug look on his face, smelling like you, like your cum.

He can’t take it anymore.

He has you on your bed, laying on your back grasping at his shoulders and moaning as he fucks into you hard and fast. “I can’t fucking believe you.” He snarls as he grabs your hips roughly. “You act like a fucking slut with all my brothers, with Solomon too, and you even managed to slut it up with an angel, and you expect me to not get upset?” You let out a choked cry, “I’m sorry Levi! Please it’s too much slow down!” He narrows his eyes, “You don’t care when they are rough with you. I know you don’t, I hear you moaning like a whore when my brothers are rough with you.” You can’t manage to say anything in response instead just letting out a soft whimper. “That’s what I thought.” You start to feel that familiar build up to release deep within you as he continues to roughly pound into you. “Levi I’m going to cum! Please!” You moan out, gripping him harder. “Me too.” He groans. “Going to fill you up with so much and leave it dripping out of you so everyone knows you’re mine. ”You cum with a loud moan as he digs his nails into your hips giving one final thrust as deep as he can and spilling into you. He collapses on you, burying his face in your neck. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I was too much! Are you mad at me?” You let out a short breathe and stroke his head. “No Levi it’s ok, I actually kind of like it when you get all rough and jealous.” He picks his head up to look at you, his cheeks covered with a soft flush. “Really?” You give him a kiss on the forehead. “Yes! It’s hot when you take control.” He hides his face back in the crook of your neck before picking it back up again. “Um… what I said about keeping it inside of you… can you actually do that for me?” His face even redder now. You grin at him “of course I can. Hand me my clothes.”

The whole rest of the day Levi smiles to himself whenever he sees you walk past one of his brothers. The face they make and the glare they shoot at him when they smell his scent on you and his cum leaking out of you. Lucifer was bound to give him a talking to later tonight but it was worth it to have everyone know that at least for today you are all his.

#i don’t know if I actually like this but oh well I wanted to try something new and do something for Levi’s birthday #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me smut #obey me levi smut #obey me leviathan smut #obey me x reader #obey me x y/n #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader

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aardvaark · 2 days

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i was thinking about how i wished leverage had a birthday episode for some of the characters cause that would be sweet, but then i realised something and basically…. okay here’s my thoughts in quotes form, just for fun

hardison: so when’s your birthday? i could plan something for us and the team to do and-

parker: i dont know

hardison: you don’t know… your own birthday?

parker: no, how would i know? pshh, cmon, you’re telling me you remember EXACTLY when you were born? watch this - hey, eliot, do you know your exact birth date?

eliot, innocently passing by, who was canonically anonymously dropped off at a hospital as an infant: no, how would i know?

parker: that’s what i said!

hardison: excuse me?? what is going on right now

sophie, walking into the apartment: whats wrong?

hardison: parker and eliot- well, okay, when’s your birthday? i just have to prove something.

sophie: …….july 12th

hardison: why did you pause? wait, is that your birthday or sophie devereaux’s birthday?

sophie: ………… (guilty silence)

parker: see, no one knows their real birthday! haha you’re so weird sometimes, hardison

hardison:

hardison: what the fuck guys

#leverageposting #wren speaks #leverage #parker leverage #alec hardison #nate knows his birthday i guess so i didn’t include him. if he was watching the whole time he would probably say ‘idk’ to mess w hardison #they’re having this convo in nate’s apartment but it’s like 3am & he’s asleep & they’ve all broken in to hang out #parker doesn’t know either bc of her ridiculously neglectful foster parents or bc she’s parker & her priorities are simply different to most #people. her birthday is irrelevant to thievery. and sadly probably not related to fun happy memories anyway.#sophie obviously is a good enough grifter to answer confidently but she feels a little bad abt lying to her family by now #meanwhile hardison had a normal foster nana who would have known his bday. most kids aren’t safe-surrendered like eliot so assumably #hardison would have a known bday. and he likes birthdays!#and he wants to throw parker a little party even if it’s a very unconventional parker bday that involves rappelling & jumping off buildings #but he is once again thwarted by the leverage team members having the strangest possible lives #he IS gonna give them each birthday parties tho. even if he has to make up some dates & stuff #sophie’s can be the fake date she gives if that’s what she rlly wants. nate’s real birthday is on file somewhere even if he’s being annoying #rn so hardison just has to do some basic hacking. eliot would have an approximate bday such as the day he was surrendered that his parents #would have celebrated throughout childhood. and parker’s would be april 1st bc that’s alice whites bday (and YOURE ALICE!!!)#as in it’s canonically in the online info abt alice white shown in the juror no.6 job & obvs that’s april fools so it’s funny :)#and hardison has a NORMAL bday unlike SOME ppl and yes he DOES expect presents you heathens!!

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ineffablesuffering · 1 day

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I AM UNWELL.

I went to go see Nye again and I MET MICHAEL 😭😭 he was so fucking lovely and amazing on stage, a true enigma. He wished me a happy birthday and we talked a bit about filming Good Omens, near where I live and oh my GOD. I AM UNWELL. I told him I went to see it the other week but he wasn't feeling well and I asked him how he was now and he FUCKING APOLOGISED FOR BEING ILL. HES SO AHCKALZV. I was like don't be silly I had a great time, hope you're okay now though! I'm never shutting up about this.

#good omens #aziraphale #michael sheen #nye national theatre

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artofvisualshock · 2 days

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Messages from the GazettE to the fans (Google translations)

〈 RUKI 〉

At the end, he said, "I want the GazettE to be forever." I think what he meant by "forever" was that he hoped that the amazing scenes he saw from the stage in 2023 would continue forever.

The scenes he saw with his fans, the happy faces of his fans, and the scenes where we all sang together were treasures that could not be replaced by anything else, and I think he hoped that moment would continue forever.

I remember him saying that he wanted to perform live soon.

Even now that he's grown up, he was a kind and passionate man who can honestly say, "Even if something bad happens, it's the most fun when we get together like this and laugh with the band members."

I loved that honesty.

This year was no different, and every year on our birthdays we would jokingly tell each other to take care of our health.

The band will never be a four-man band.

No matter what anyone says.

Because you're the only bassist we have.

Because I believe that my soul is always beside me to the right.

I'm sure everyone can feel it, even if they can't see it.

The proof that Reita has built up in the GazettE so far will not disappear and will definitely live on.

I believe that, so I will continue to sing beside him so that his soul can be right beside me.

I will not become the GazettE that Reita hates.

I don't want to make him sad.

Although all humans live in a finite life, I believe that souls never disappear.

Reita's soul, the members, myself, and the fans.

I want to continue to perform live shows that make all the people who loved me want to come back to the stage forever, even after they have become souls.

So it is only with each and every one of our fans that we can create the scenery that we hoped he would be eternal.

That's why I want him to stay by my side and be there, unchanged from now on.

He should look at me and smile, and think, "He was the best guy!", rather than looking at me with a sad face.

We are more determined than ever to protect this band.

We will make Reita's wish for eternity come true.

So, Reita, rest assured that you can come to every live show from heaven.

Your seat will always be there.

You're going to be super busy from now on.

I'll contact you again when the schedule is decided.

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

<Uruha>

To all the fans who have supported REITA up until now.

I think he was a huge support for everyone, and for me.

I myself have not been able to accept and realize the fact that he is no longer here and that we can no longer stand on stage together.

There may be many things that I will come to understand little by little from now on.

However, if I continue to be drowning in sadness, I will not be able to make his wish for eternity come true, and I strongly feel that now is the time for me to have the strength to look forward and move forward.

I also think that the path we walked together until now was irreplaceable for him, and I think it will continue to live in the hearts of everyone and myself.

He gave us so much, and we walked together for so long, and he is still and will always be our best friend.

Please treasure all the words, memories, and love he left behind in your heart.

REITA will continue to exist and live in everyone's hearts.

We would like to express our sincere gratitude to everyone who has supported and cheered on the GazettE REITA.

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

〈 Aoi 〉

For a long time, the members and a small staff have been working on various projects, saying "this and that," but writing this letter was the last thing I wanted to do.

There have been moments when I felt like giving up on my dreams.

Every time, we talked about it again and again, sometimes pushing each other, and pulling the members' arms so that they wouldn't give up.

Because we were such a band, the GazettE has been able to keep moving forward without stopping.

REITA, you're not the one who wishes for eternity, you're the one who connects eternity.

I can't say something clever like "I'll take care of you."

I wanted to make more music with you, and see more scenery together.

Every scenery is wonderful because we see it with the five of us, surrounded by our fans.

I don't know why, but it's so painful that I can't make it happen even though I have so many things I want to say.

When I get there, I'm going to start with a big lecture. I know it's lonely because we're gone so suddenly, but please take a rest until then.

I have a few more things to do here.

Thank you for walking this long road with me. Rest in peace.

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

〈 Kai 〉

For me, REITA is an immeasurably big presence, saved by his many words and sounds, the mood maker for the band, and all I remember are really fun things, and above all, the sight of him shining on stage.

He is the best partner and the only one in the rhythm section.

That has never changed, and will never change in the future.

I want to continue carrying his feelings and continue with the GazettE with even greater resolve.

Finally, to all the fans and people involved who have supported us for the past 22 years.

Thank you very much.

And from now on, our feelings will remain the same and we would like to continue running as a group of five, so please continue to support us.

REITA

Thank you for all your hard work.

With the same feelings, we will continue to protect the GazettE together with our many friends... I promise.

There are many friends out there who don't want your 22 years to go to waste, and they are waiting for you.

You must come to our shows too!

Let's have some good sake again.

#the gazette #reita #rip #uruha #ruki #aoi #kai

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ramblingoak · 2 days

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Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

Secondo x Female Reader

Still lusting over Secondo in the ghaseball uniform so here's a sort of sequel to Sliding Home (which you don't have to read first) and some amazing art by @tasty-ribz. Happy late birthday Ribz! Love you bby 💙

Warnings: baseball talk, smutty fun in a locker room, nsfw 18+ only, mdni, 1600k words, not really beta read forgive me

“Why am I doing this again?”

“I told you,” You slapped his hands away when he reached up to adjust his ball cap. “It’s good pr, gets people curious about the chur–”

“You misunderstand. Why am I doing this again?” Secondo stood up and turned to look himself over in the mirror. “Couldn’t Terzo have taken a turn?”

“Well, I tried Terzo. Had Copia take him out onto the abbey grounds for a game of catch and everything.” When you were silent for a few moments Secondo turned your way with a raised eyebrow. “He, uh, broke one of the windows of Primo’s main greenhouse.”

“Ah. That’s why the old man was screaming the other day.”

“Yes. So that was a whole…thing. Imperator told me to send you again and well, here we are.”

You stood up with a flourish, your arms wide and a big smile on your face. It was clear Secondo wasn’t buying it. He clicked his tongue at you as he took a few steps closer.

“Imperator chose me, eh? Not her golden boy?”

“Copia was uh, busy. You know,” When Secondo closed the distance between you even further you gulped and started backing up. “Papa stuff.”

“Si, I do know of this ‘Papa stuff’.” He grinned when your back hit the wall and you let out a little yelp. “I think I know why I’m here and mio fratellino isn’t.”

“Terzo would’ve nailed someone in the head with a ball.”

“No, not him. Copia.”

“Copia was busy, as I said.”

“Wrong. Copia has been posting pictures of his rats on his private Instagram all morning.”

“Wait, he has a private Instagram? No one told me thi–”

Secondo’s finger on your lips shut you up. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as the man shifted even closer, one arm bracketing you. Like usual, having him so close overwhelmed your senses. His demeanor, his words, even his smell was pulling you in like always. You were absolutely enamored by him.

Especially with him in that uniform.

“I think, cara mia, that you asked Imperator to send me. Specifically.”

“That doesn’t seem like something I would do.”

Secondo flashed you a grin that had your stomach doing a little somersault. He leaned in close, his lips just barely flitting across your own before he moved them close to your ear, “You wanted to see me in this costume again.”

“It’s not a costume, it’s a uniform.” He snorted, the quick exhalation of breath on your ear making you jump. “And so what if I did,” Secondo pulled back far enough for you to see his face, an eyebrow once again raised as he regarded you. “Want to see you in this again? Is that so bad?”

“Non c’è male affatto. It’s bene. Good. But,” His lips were back on your ear, his body now pressing up against you. Your hands moved to grasp at the uniform top, your grip tightening when his tongue ran along the shell of your ear. “Next time just ask me, eh?”

You stumbled a bit when he abruptly backed away, your grip on his top the only thing keeping your wobbly legs from collapsing under you. There was a brisk knock at the door to the room and a voice called out that Secondo had ten minutes. He covered your hands with his, the black leather warm and soft like it always was. You suddenly felt like apologizing and opened your mouth to do so but he seemed to sense it. He shushed you while bringing your hands to his mouth and pressing kisses to each of your palms before letting them go and walking towards the door.

“Papa, wait!” He stopped and turned back towards you, his eyes darkening a bit when you began to slink his way. You reached towards him and straightened his sleeves, smoothing your hands down his chest next until your fingers rested on the buckle of his belt. “Mi dispiace, Papa. Shall I make it up to you?”

“If it pleases you.” His eyes focused on your mouth when you bit your bottom lip, your tongue immediately peeking out to soothe the sting. “It would certainly please me.”

“Let’s make it interesting. How about I reward you based on how you do out there?”

“How I do?”

“Yes,” You ran your hands back up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders. “Let’s say if you go out there and completely screw up you’ll only get a kiss.”

To demonstrate, and because you really wanted to kiss him, you pressed your lips to his, quickly pulling away when he tried to deepen it.

“Or?”

“Or, you could get the ball close to home plate and earn some kisses down here.” Secondo groaned when your hand massaged his cock through his pants. You were quick, not wanting to get him too riled up so he couldn’t even walk out there. His growl when you let go of him had you smiling and reaching up to kiss the tip of his nose. “Does that sound fair so far?”

“I suppose.” When another brisk knock and shout for Papa came at the door again you winked and pulled away. “What do I get if I throw it across the plate? A strike, yes?”

“If you manage a strike, Papa, I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

You stared at each other for a handful of seconds, both of you breathing a little heavier. Secondo was the first to break eye contact, swiftly turning and striding towards the door. When he yanked it open he looked back your way, a small smirk playing at his lips. The stadium assistant trying to usher him onto the field was making worried noises but Secondo ignored him.

“Be ready.”

With that he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and sank down to sit on a bench. The distant roar of the crowd had you smiling and you began to pick some lint off your top.

“Play ball.”

“I don’t fucking believe it. Oh, oh right there.”

His thumb circled your clit again while two of his fingers curled inside of you, dragging along the spot that had you grinding down into them. Your clothes were already soaked from the warm water of the shower, sticking to both of you. Secondo’s cap was on the floor somewhere, along with his belt and your shoes. You couldn’t bring yourself to care that you didn’t have a change of clothes to leave the stadium in. All you cared about was that he kept doing that.

“What’s not to believe?” He pulled back far enough so he could take one of your breasts in hand, thumbing at your nipple through your top. “Didn’t think I could throw a strike?”

“No, no I did—oh, yes. Yes, please.”

“Which is it, dolcezza? No?” He smiled, tilting his head as he watched you lose your mind. “Or yes?”

“Yes, you bast–ah!”

Two fingers inside of you became three and he started to pump them in and out of you faster. Even over the falling water you swore you could hear them move through your wetness. In truth you had been wet all damn morning, the anticipation of seeing him in the baseball uniform again was too much. Your head fell back against the wall with a thunk and you watched him through half-lidded eyes. He looked equally a mess as you, the paint running down his face and disappearing down his neck. When he caught you looking he grinned and you were glad the wall was there to help hold you up.

“I’ve been practicing. Knowing you as I do I figured it was only a matter of time before you’d drag me to one of these stupid games again.”

“Baseball isn’t, ah fuck, stupid.”

“Demanding souvenirs and singing that stupid song about pretzels and Cracker Jacks.”

“It’s peanuts and Cracker Jacks you absolute snob–fuck, Papa please. I can’t—”

“You can. You can take this, my fingers fucking you.” He moved in close, the water dripping off his head onto yours, streaking your hair and face in black and white. “You’ll come on my fingers and then you’ll get on your knees and suck my cock.” He was grinning when you looked up at him sharply. “Whatever I wanted, remember?”

“Y-yes.”

“Bene. Molto bene.” He gripped your chin and dragged a thumb across your lips. “I want to come inside your pretty mouth before I come inside your cunt.”

His words coupled with his fingers knowing exactly what you needed had you coming almost immediately. The orgasm rippled through your body and you clung to him as his fingers continued to move inside of you, slower and slower. The water continued to beat down on you both as you took a few moments to collect yourself, eventually looking up to meet his eyes and to see him grinning once more.

“What is it?”

“On your knees, dolcezza.”

You took a quick breath and then obediently dropped, wincing when your knees touched the tile. When you glanced down to his belt quickly Secondo nodded and you went to work undoing it and opening his pants. His thick cock sprang forward, eager for your mouth. As your lips began to close around him he rested his hands on your head, stopping you from going any further. Confused, you pulled away, looking back up at him.

“Papa?”

“Just trying to think of the phrase. Ah,” He bit at his bottom lip like he was trying to hold in a laugh. You huffed, narrowing your eyes because you knew what he was going to say and you both loved and hated him for it. “Play ball.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#secondo x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #secondo fanfiction #secondo #oakie's writing

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gloryride · 1 day

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Happy Birthday Pink Queen !

Yep, there were a lot of people at her party, so pola needed to have a part 2 with more friends ! Thanks to @chevvy-yates @nervouswizardcycle @86maylin @breezypunk @theviridianbunny

@dustymagpie @fereldanwench @draerian to be so amazing people ♥♥

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offside-the-lines · 3 days

Text

Right Where We Left Off | Nico Hischier

Summary: It’s September in NYC and Ana finds herself unexpectedly face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend, Nico. They finally have the conversation they should’ve had seven years ago. But, where does that lead them and what does this mean for her future— their future? After all, who are they to question fate?

This fic is dedicated to @fallinallincurls for her birthday bingo. Happy birthday, Bre! I am always so grateful for the incredible comments you leave on fics. Pairing: Nico Hischier x F!OC Word count: 2.5 k No warnings (as far as I know). Bingo card tropes: Second chance romance, invisible string theory, they’re both idiots; it's always been you. Masterlist

Ana’s exhausted. After ten days of straight work and travel, she just wants to sleep and hide in her expensive hotel room. It’s a gorgeous day in New York City, not sweltering and muggy as it often feels in the summer, and she doesn’t want to waste the opportunity to actually explore the city she has visited many times but never enjoyed.

She turns her face up to the sun and closes her eyes. The sounds of the city carry on around her, and it’s strangely calming— it probably should be unnerving. Besides, she has to make a decision soon about whether she is going to move here, the offer letter taunting her from her email inbox.

Her mind wanders across the Hudson for a brief second before she catches herself, eyes flying open. She takes a sip of her mocha, savoring the drink that she hopes will bring her some energy.

It isn’t often that she has a chance to take a day off. Well, no, that’s a lie. She could take any day off if she wanted to. After all, she works for herself. But she usually never lets herself, always working through weekends in an effort to get ahead— of what, she’s not quite sure.

She has always been a workaholic: working two jobs in college, graduating a year early, and starting and selling her own company before the age of 25. She tells herself that her hard work has given her the happiness she has now. She now has the freedom she always wanted— independence.

Ana’s mother always points out that she’s rushing through life because she doesn’t have an anchor. She always goes on about how the stress and inability to relax is going to take her to an early grave. Ana always sees it for what it is: an unwelcome probe into her dating life.

She’s doing quite fine on her own, thank you very much— that’s what she always retorted anyway. She can't tell her that the only stress relief she needs is the occasional hookups from the fancy bars she goes to— a series of tall men with brown hair, warm eyes, and a good smile.

Before her mind even has a chance to ruminate on that again, a little boy bumps into her leg— causing her to spill her coffee a little— and runs to hide behind the chair opposite from her.

“You won’t tell him where I am, right?” he whispers. He startles her, and it takes her a few seconds to realize he’s probably playing hide-and-seek. It takes her even longer to realize this child is speaking in her native tongue. He peers up at her with pleading eyes.

“Of course, sweetie,” she replies, pushing past her confusion. He has big brown eyes and the cutest dimples— it makes her heart ache. She presumes the little boy is hiding from his father and scans the cafe for him. Having not seen anyone looking for a child, she turns back to her coffee and continues to drink it, observing the little boy. “I’m Ana. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jan. I can’t talk right now because I’m hiding, see?” he whispers.

Ana can’t help but let out a chuckle at the earnestness in the kid’s eyes. “Okay then.”

She’s just about to take another sip of her coffee when she hears a gentle voice behind her. “Jan, where did you go?” There’s a pause, “Oh! There you are!” The boy giggles and moves to hide under the table.

Her smile freezes— her whole body freezes. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and she feels her cheeks grow warm. It might’ve been seven years, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere— Nico. She doesn’t turn around, praying Jan will just run to his daddy and leave.

She is not that lucky. Footsteps approach her chair, his voice getting closer and closer to her as he says, “Oh my god. Come on, Jan. Get out of there!”

She closes her eyes and holds her breath.

“I’m so sorry if Jan’s been bothering you, ma’am. I—” His gentle, accented English stops abruptly, and a silence hangs in the air as she slowly opens her eyes. When their eyes meet, Nico lets out a barely audible “Oh.”

“Um,” her gaze darts around, trying to avoid the warm brown eyes that still haunt her dreams, “Hi?”

“My god, is that you?” he mumbles, barely audible. He stares at her, the color draining from his face.

Jan finally emerges from beneath the table, his curiosity piqued by this stilted exchange. Beaming at her, he reaches up for Nico’s hand— his father’s hand? It had to be, right? The resemblance— she cuts her thoughts off.

“Um... yes?” she manages to say.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. You’re really here? It’s been so long.”

“Well, yes, Nico, it’s been about seven years.”

“That’s a really long time.” There’s silence as they just stare at each other, neither knowing what to do, neither moving.

“Yes. It is,” she says cautiously.

He rests a hand on Jan’s shoulder, holding him close. “Why did you never call me?” he asks, looking down at his feet.

“Why would I have called you Nico?”

“You left for London without telling me. You told everyone else. I had to find out from Nina.”

“I had no reason to tell you, Nico. We weren’t together anymore,” she scoffs, “You moved too. And besides, you found someone to ‘replace’ me, clearly.”

She looks at Jan, bile rising in the back of her throat. Nico responds with a puzzled expression before deciding to return to his original line of questioning.

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to go to university, start my career… I have dreams too, remember? Ones that are just as important as yours?” She shudders at the memory of their fight, the fight that broke everything. Her heart races; she can hear the blood rushing in her ears.

“I was young, stupid and immature. But, I swear to God, I loved you so fucking much. You should’ve told me you were moving to London… I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Nico? You broke up with me. What was I supposed to do? Stay at home? Or should I have followed you to New Jersey like a sick puppy? Continued wasting my time like I clearly did when you were in Halifax? Watching any and every opportunity— watching my future— fly by me as I waited for and supported someone who was no longer mine?”

“I said that we should take a break to figure things out. Figure out what to do long-term. I never meant to suggest that we break up forever. You just assumed— You left. You didn’t even give me a chance to—”

“Look at you, Nico.” She was struggling to keep her voice under control as it wavered and threatened to break. “It’s always someone else’s fault. Nothing’s changed, huh?”

He looks at her, his face shutters with an unreadable expression, before pulling out the chair opposite her. He sits and lifts Jan onto his lap. The little boy looks between them in confusion, ultimately deciding that playing with the wooden block table number is more interesting.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean for it to sound so— I was heartbroken that you weren’t there anymore when I came back after the draft.”

“What about me? What about how I felt when you asked me to just drop my plans for my future like it was no big deal? Or when you suggested we take a break? When you never called me after that summer?” She studies his face, seeing his genuine sadness, and sighs. “We were so young, Neeks. What were the chances it would have even worked out anyway? Even if you had cared to fight for us.”

“I thought that you took the space and realized— I thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore. I thought that maybe you hated me. I thought that maybe you realized that you were just too good for me. So, I thought that maybe I should let you go, live your life, and find your career like you said you wanted to,” he says, voice thin and reedy before he clears his throat and laughs humorlessly. “I guess I was right, huh? I mean, just look at you now. You’re pretty incredible. Forbes 30 under 30.”

He smiles at her, a small fragile thing. It’s only because she has known him her entire life that she is able to spot the pride that shines through the pain and regret. Her thoughts are crashing inside her mind.

He knows and has clearly been following her career.

In the delicate silence that stretches between them, the storm inside her head is able to bring something else to the surface: the loneliness of her success— the gnawing feeling that something is always missing.

“What about how I felt when I kept hearing our friends talk about every new girlfriend you had?” she whispers, staring into her coffee cup. She has no control over the way her throat tightens over something she’d finished crying over a long time ago.

“I never loved any of them,” he answers without missing a beat; his voice is firm and sure.

“It’s been seven years, Nico. How could you say you never loved any of them?”

“I mean, I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t date some great people because I did. But they were always just— I cared for them, sure, but I was never in love with any of them.” He looks down at the boy sitting in his lap.

“Not even the mother of your child?” she blurts out, outraged.

“The who?” His eyebrows are scrunched low on his face as he studies her.

Ana rolls her eyes and gestures at Jan. “His mother?”

“His— Oh! No, he’s not—” he exclaims before laughing.

“He looks just like you,” she says, confused.

“Aww,” he coos, tightly clutching the little boy to his chest, “Jan’s my nephew— He’s Luca’s.”

“Oh.”

Something about her expression sets him off again, throwing his head back as he laughs. Against her will, the sound nestles deep in her chest, filling her with warmth.

“I’m babysitting him today so Luca and his wife can explore the city a bit. I won’t be able to do much once training camp starts next week. And I want to get as much time with this munchkin as possible,” he explains, tickling Jan’s belly to his delight.

Ana feels her chest constrict as she watches them interact. It’s a glimpse into the future she could’ve had, and it hurts in a place so deep in her chest she’s not sure she’s ever going to be able to unearth it. After their first moment of comfortable silence, Nico looks up at her with a soft smile.

“You know, I got you a ring.”

“Y-you w-what?” she says unsteadily as she feels the world stop around her.

“Yeah.” He looks back down at Jan and fidgets with his shirt. “I bought it with my signing bonus. I was going to ask you to marry me when I came back if we had worked things out, which— I know, it was so stupid. We were, what, 18? Like, what was I thinking, right? It wouldn’t have solved anything. But I just wanted— needed you to know how much I loved you and… ”

His voice gets tighter as he speaks, and he lets the sentence trail off. His eyes flash to hers, holding them so briefly before looking away again. He clears his throat, “I guess we never made it there.”

Ana’s silent for a moment that feels like it stretches a lifetime— or at least, it feels like time has warped and dumped her back into her 18-year-old self, seven years ago. Her heart was pounding so hard that it made her feel faint.

“I would have said yes,” she realizes with a start, the words tumbling out before she has even fully formed the thought in her mind.

“What?” His eyes snap up, finally looking at her again.

“If you had asked me, I would have said yes.”

It was his turn to stare. “Really?” he whispers.

“Yes. Despite our fight, I still loved you. I was waiting for months for you to call me, to tell me that we would work it out, that we were going to be okay long distance for however long it took. I would have— If you begged — Hell if you had just asked...”

Nico just stares, flabbergasted. Neither of them even hear the tapping of Jan’s block on the table. “I still love you,” he says.

“What?”

“What I mean is, can we try again? It may have been seven years, but I still love you.”

“Are you insane?”

“I don’t think so. It has always been you; it will always be you. I have known that for a long time now. There has to be some fate or God or something to bring us back together, right? I feel like it’s a good sign, anyway. I’m sorry for being the idiot I was back then, but I promise I’m ready now. I’m ready to be whatever you need me to be. It won’t be the exact same, but it will finally be us again.”

Ana is stunned, speechless, as she blinks at Nico.

“Nicki?” Jan interrupts their silence, snapping them out of their bubble.

“Yeah, Jan, what’s wrong?”

“Can I have a cookie, please?”

“Sure, bud.” Nico sets him on the floor and stands up. He smiles at her cheekily, “Don’t you dare leave before I get back. I will chase you this time. I’m fast, you know.”

“I’ll be here, I promise.” She feels a bubble of tension burst as she laughs, shaking her head as she watches him walk to the counter holding Jan’s hand.

The seven years apart has worn down her willpower. She gave up on love years ago when she realized that she was probably going to dream about Nico every night for the rest of her life. She’s always known that she would cave if asked; she just never thought this day would come.

She looks at him now. She sees the boy she grew up with and the teenager she fell in love with. But there’s also a sadness behind his eyes that she doesn’t remember being there. The corners of his eyes are worn and weathered in a way that’s unusual for a man in his mid-twenties.

There’s a voice in her head— it sounds eerily like her mother— that points out that she’s always known the truth: Nico was why she was always working, pushing away everyone and everything. It was some twisted self-punishment; if she lost Nico, she had to make the sacrifice worth it.

But maybe— Maybe, she can have both. Ana thinks about the job offer from the company that acquired her start-up— a job based in NYC. She thinks about all the hundreds of coffee shops they could’ve gone to. Maybe there was some fate at play. And who was she to question fate.

Nico sits back down, a tentative smile on his face that makes Ana’s heart flutter for the first time in seven years, and says, “So, Ana, will you pick up where we left off?”

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