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e-dubbc11 · 1 year

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A Forever Promise

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Not many, painful memory for Billy, angst, some tears, maybe a couple of swear words, I can’t remember, fluff and fun

Word Count: 4.2K-ish

Summary: Part 1 of 2. Planning a wedding is stressful but your friends are doing their best to make sure you have fun before the big day. Your Jack and Jill party turns into a search for the groom.

A/N: I know you’ve missed them, Frank and Ginger are back for Billy and reader’s wedding. If you’ve followed along from the beginning, you know that these fics are always pure fun with a slight conflict and this one isn’t any different. If you haven’t followed from the beginning, I will leave the list of their shenanigans under the author’s note. Some of you know Ginger is based on my best friend, she is the funniest, sweetest, best person I know and I would not make it through my every day life without her.

This is the longest intro ever, I’m so sorry!

The Gingerverse (thank you Robin for that term)

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Part 2

Game On

Snowstorm Shenanigans

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Stress had consumed you for the past few months. Why didn’t you just elope!? It would have been so much easier than planning a wedding, albeit a small one. When you started, you figured it couldn’t be any more stressful than planning the big birthday bash you had but you were wrong.

There were more details to pay attention to for a wedding, like food, flowers, cake, centerpieces, favors, etc. The list went on and on but in the end, you knew it would all be worth it. At the end of that day, you would be Mrs. William Russo and you could not wait for that.

He couldn’t wait either. Billy suggested eloping, jokingly. “We’ll go to Vegas. Go for the weekend, get married, then come home. And we’ll have a party when we come back.” But you knew he was only half serious. Even though he didn’t have any family, he knew how important it was for you to have yours there.

Having Frank, Maria, and the kids there was important to Billy even if he didn’t really say so. The Castles were the closest Billy had to family, especially Frank. They had been through so much together, and although they weren’t blood, they were brothers in every sense of the word.

Everyone said you were crazy for wanting a winter wedding but Billy had asked you to marry him during a snowstorm so you thought it was only fitting the two of you get married in winter. Billy just wanted you to be happy.

He wanted everything to be exactly how you dreamed it to be and you wanted a winter wedding, complete with snow flurries if possible but maybe that was asking for too much.

“What color dress am I wearing!?” Asked Ginger. She was your best friend and maid of honor.

You were on the other side of the dress shop, going through the racks of dresses to see if there were any styles that caught your attention for the bridesmaids. You wanted them to wear the same color but whatever style they felt most comfortable in. It was going to be an evening wedding so you decided black would be a good color for everyone.

“Look for a black dress, Ginger. In whatever style you like, I just want the girls to wear black though.” You told her.

“Gotcha!” She shouted from across the store, giving you the thumbs up.

Maria and another good friend of yours, Lily were looking for their dresses also.

“Sooooooo when do we get to see you in your dress?” Ginger asked with a sly smile, raising her eyebrows up and down.

“As soon as you all find your dresses, I’ll try it on for you.” You told her.

Maria and Lily were anxious to see you in your dress also.

“Yeah, come on! We wanna see you in your dress!” Lily exclaimed.

Ginger’s smile turned a little wicked because she knew she had opened Pandora’s Box, your other two bridesmaids wanted to see you in your dress. In fact, they were begging you now.

In unison, they stood in front of you with their hands folded, pleading with you.

“Please!!! Please, show us!”

You had narrowed it down to three choices and they were with you when you tried them all on but you wanted your decision to be a surprise.

“I told you guys, I want you to pick out your dresses and then I’ll show you which one I picked.” You said.

Ginger perked up and said in a determined voice. “Alright you heard her, ladies! Fan out and let’s find our dresses!”

After an hour of searching, everyone found a dress that they loved and felt comfortable in. Ginger picked out a sleeveless black velvet dress that gathered on the side, Maria chose a floor length black lace deep V-neck dress with cap sleeves, and Lily elected for a long, V-neck, flutter sleeve dress with a long slit up the front.

The dresses were gorgeous and your friends looked absolutely beautiful in them, so since they held up their end of the bargain, you had to hold up yours and show them your dress.

Before stepping out from behind the dressing room door, you inhaled sharply and let out a long exhale with your eyes closed. It wasn’t because you were nervous but it just made it more real, that you were actually getting married soon.

You turned the corner to see your friends sitting in a row on the couch in front of the pedestal and the multi-way mirror. Ginger’s jaw was on the floor, Maria wiped the tears from her eyes, and Lily had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were smiling.

“That’s my favorite!!” Ginger said. “I was hoping you would pick that one!”

You turned around to face the mirrors, your friends also gazing into the mirrors to catch a glimpse of your smiling face as the sales assistant fanned out the short train of your dress in back of you. It was close to a mermaid style dress, fitted at the top with a slight sweetheart neckline that flared out a touch on the bottom, the long sleeves were made of lace, and the entire dress had a lace overlay.

In between all the smiles and the laughs, Maria asked “You think the boys are having this much fun?”

Ginger took a sip of her champagne and replied. “I doubt it, no one’s having as much fun as we are right now.”

**********

“They all look the same, Bill. You shouldn’t ask me these kinds of questions.” Frank said.

Billy just shook his head, while Chris and Curtis chuckled a little.

“He’s right, Billy.” Curtis stated. “You can’t ask Frank questions like that when the only formal wear he has are work boots that don’t have dirt on them.”

The four of them were walking around the tuxedo shop waiting for the sales person to come back with the suit Billy picked out for the groomsmen to wear. He chose a classic black suit, with a white shirt, black vest, and black tie. His tie was black with small white polka dots and tiny white skulls on it.

Billy knew you would love it.

Frank asked. “The girls were goin’ dress shopping today, yeah?”

“Ginger just texted, they’re at the dress shop now and y/n just tried on her dress for them.” Chris said.

One by one, Billy’s groomsmen tried on their suit and had their measurements taken. The shop had Billy’s measurements already because he lived in suits for work, for the rest of them, this was a new process.

Frank married Maria wearing his dress uniform and only wore suits on very special occasions like when he came to your birthday party and the night Billy asked you to marry him. But Billy was his best friend and whatever Billy wanted him to wear, he would wear it, no questions asked.

Frank did, however, make one small demand. “I’m gonna take the tie off after the ceremony, feel like I’m being choked wearing this thing.” He stated.

Billy replied with a half-smile. “Whatever you want, Frankie.”

“You nervous, Bill?” Frank asked with a serious tone to his voice.

Chris and Curtis were occupied which left Frank and Billy to talk privately.

Billy ran his fingers through his ebony colored hair and smiled nervously. “A little, but I was more nervous asking her to marry me.” He replied.

“I’ve never seen you this happy, seriously.” Frank said, playfully jabbing at Billy’s shoulder. “So don’t mess it up because you’re not sleeping on my couch if you do.”

Billy returned the playful jab and laughed. “I don’t plan on it, Frankie.”

**********

The days started to run together and before you knew it, Ginger was reminding you that your Jack and Jill party was tonight and tomorrow night you were getting married.

She had an idea awhile ago that she claimed “even Frank can’t say no to.”

“Look at his face! He doesn’t hate it!” Ginger yelled excitedly.

“Axe throwing, huh?” Frank said with narrowed eyes and a slight smirk on his face.

Maria snickered. “That’s Frank’s excited face.”

So Ginger and Frank planned the party at the axe throwing bar. It was a place in Albany called The Yard: Hatchet House and Bar. Everyone in the wedding party including you and Billy would get out of the city for a night, spend the night there and drive back to the city the next morning to get ready for the wedding.

Curtis decided to ride up with Frank and Maria, Lily caught a ride with Ginger and Chris. After riding in the same car with Ginger on the way to Vermont, Frank said he’d never do that again on account of Ginger’s tiny bladder and terrible singing voice.

On the ride up to Albany, Billy seemed a little quiet. He just stared straight ahead at the highway in front of him in between sips of coffee and the hand that was usually resting on you during car rides was on the steering wheel. Was he nervous about getting married tomorrow?

“Billy?” You asked nervously.

He turned to glance at you quickly before returning his eyes to the road.

“What’s up, sweet girl?” He asked, his perfect smile extending across his face.

Suddenly, you were a little nauseous before asking him. “Are you…ok? You’ve been really quiet.”

He took your hand in his, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m fine, really I am.” He said with a warm smile.

“Are you sure, baby? We have a big day tomorrow, are you having second thoughts about marrying me?” You asked with a slight hitch in your voice.

He barely let you finish that question before emphatically answering you.

“NO! Y/n, why would you ask me that?!” His voice was stern and raised slightly.

“It’s ok if you’re nervous, Billy. I’m nervous but I—I’m also really excited.” You said calmly with a smile, hoping it would calm him too.

That seemed to put him at ease. “Ok, yes I’m a little nervous but it’s only because I want everything to go smoothly, that’s all. I…I love you.”

You moved your free hand to rest on top of his, squeezed it and smiled at him. “I love you too, Billy.”

Getting Billy to admit he was nervous was no small feat so you just decided to leave it at that, he knew you were anxious too but you didn’t leave any doubt that you wanted to be his wife. After that, his shoulders seemed to relax and he held your hand for the rest of the ride to Albany. He was your Billy again.

After checking into the hotel, you and the girls decided to get ready together. Ginger had a sash that said “Bride to Be” and a tiara for you to wear tonight. She also bought sashes for the bridesmaids to wear. Hers said “Maid of Dishonor,” Maria’s said “Dancing Diva,” and Lily’s said “Bad Influence.”

“…And then he says ‘Never again with the two of you! Lily, you’re switching cars for the ride home, the singing, the ridiculous amount of bathroom stops, and the cackling! I didn’t know I was gonna be riding with TWO Gingers in the car!’” Ginger said in a deeper voice, mocking her boyfriend.

Through her laughs, Maria said “Sounds like Chris was channeling his inner Frank.”

The four of you started laughing again.

When the laughs died down a little, Ginger turned to you and said with a warm smile. “Tonight’s gonna be so fun and, AND!! You’re getting married tomorrow!!”

You were very excited but Billy’s behavior still worried you a little and you just hoped he was ok. It was all going to be different for him after this, he’ll be a husband, and he’s going to have a new family. No wonder he seemed a little out of sorts but he said he was fine and you wanted to believe him but something was still poking at you like a nagging little itch that wouldn’t go away.

Maybe it really was just nerves.

But whatever it was, you’ll deal with it later because it was time to have a couple of drinks and throw some axes and your bridesmaids were ready to make sure you have a fun night, it was your last night as a single woman after all.

Billy seemed relaxed, he was smiling, laughing, and having fun with his friends, especially with you. He looked so handsome tonight, dark jeans, a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and black boots. He’d steal glances at you while you were talking to Ginger and the girls, you’d catch him and he would wink and smile at you. You’d smile back and blow him a kiss, you really could not wait to be his wife.

Frank and Ginger’s “friendly” competition resumed tonight. While he did not participate in karaoke at your birthday party, Frank was subjected to Ginger’s musical numbers waiting for you and Billy to get back from your drive to the Anvil office. Then their competitive sides came out the time that you all played laser tag together which led to the snowmobile race and the rousing game of Pictionary during the weekend in Vermont when Billy asked you to marry him.

They bicker like siblings, Ginger likes to spin Frank up in whatever way she can and he falls for it every single time but you’re also convinced that despite all of the bickering, the competition war they have going on, and the constant jabs they take at each other, they are really good friends.

“Alright, let’s go Frank! Me and you, time to see who’s better at throwing this thing. Loser owes the winner a hundred bucks! I hope Billy pays you well, cuz you’re goin’ down!” Ginger said tauntingly from across the bar after getting a beer.

Sipping his beer, Billy was standing at the high top table overlooking the wooden targets in front of him when you walked over to him and snaked your arms around his long torso squeezing his body against yours. His dark chocolate like eyes gazing down at you, full of love. He rested his beer on the table so he could return the hug and he kiss you on the forehead.

“Hey there, handsome.” You said, the words sounding a little muffled against his chest.

He pinched his thumb and forefinger against your chin, and tilted it up, making your lips more accessible to his and he kissed you, the taste of beer still heavy on his lips.

“You look really beautiful tonight baby, but you always do.” He said with a warm smile.

He still made you blush every time he complimented you. “Thank you, my love. And hey, if you think this is beautiful, wait til you see me tomorrow!” You exclaimed, adjusting your sash and tiara.

Billy chuckled a little. “I can’t wait, sweet girl. I can’t wait.” And he kissed you again.

The commotion and friendly taunting going on between your friends was amusing to watch. You hadn’t been paying close attention so you weren’t sure who was winning although Frank just hit a bullseye and the guys erupted with cheers and hi-fives all around.

“I thought you were good at this, Ginger!” Frank teased.

Ginger narrowed her eyes at Frank, she was the most competitive person you’ve ever met. Billy and Frank were a close second but she absolutely HATED to lose.

“It’s not over, Frank! I see you have better aim with an axe than you do when you’re taking a leak, according to Maria!” Ginger barked.

Frank glanced over his shoulder at his wife and all she could do is shrug her shoulders, silently telling him “she’s not wrong.”

Ginger drew back and let her final axe go, it turned end over end heading toward the target and stuck in the circle just outside the bullseye, four points. She needed 6, or a bullseye, to tie with Frank so he was the winner.

With a loud growl, he let out an excited “YES!!!”

Everyone gave him a hi-five or a fist bump, even Ginger who accepted defeat gracefully. It didn’t mean she liked it but he did win fair and square.

“Hundred bucks, Ginger! Pay up, kid.” Frank bellowed.

Ginger had that look in her eye that she would get him back before the night was over, you weren’t sure what it was going to be but you were positive it was going to drive Frank crazy.

You did spot a karaoke machine on the way in, maybe she did too.

**********

Rolling over in bed the next morning, there was a cold empty space where Billy had been. You had felt him kiss you on the shoulder a little while ago but then you fell back to sleep. Glancing around the hotel room, you noticed Billy’s overnight bag was gone which caused you to sit bolt upright in the bed.

You turned to look at the clock—06:30 and noticed a piece of paper folded in half, it said “My Love” in Billy’s handwriting on the outside. With a shaking hand, you picked up the piece of paper, unfolded it and began to read.

Good Morning My Sweet Girl,

I promise I will see you later, there was just something I had to do before we get married and being back in Albany gave me the perfect opportunity to be able to go and do it. I made arrangements with Frankie, he’ll take you back to the city.

I don’t want you to worry, everything is fine.

I love you very much and I can’t wait to be able to call you my wife.

Love, Billy

But you were worried about him. Jumping out of bed, you threw on some sweats and with the note in your hand, went across the hall to Frank’s room and lightly tapped on the door.

He quickly opened the door and stepped out into the hall, almost like he was already waiting on the other side for you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He whispered. “Come on, let’s go back to your room. Maria is still asleep.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, in a confused tone asked “What’s going on, Frank? Where did he go?”

“He’s fine, kid. I promise you. There was just something he had to take care of, that’s all.” Frank said.

Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“But what could he possibly—?” Suddenly you stopped and it hit you like a punch to the face. “Oh my god—no wonder he was so quiet on the way here. How could I be so stupid! Which one is it, Frank?!!” You asked with your voice raised.

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. He never told me which fire station it was.”

Feeling lightheaded, your knees buckled a little and you needed to sit down. Frank could tell you were about to lose your footing so he caught you before you could fall and eased you onto the bed. He reached for the bottle of water that was on the table and handed it to you.

“Drink that.” He ordered. “Don’t move, I’m gonna go find you some candy or somethin’.”

You’ve been so preoccupied with getting everything done for the wedding, that something that you should have remembered, completely slipped your mind. And you couldn’t possibly feel worse about it. Suddenly, your eyes welled up with tears and your hands started to shake again.

Frank returned with some orange juice. “Drink all of that. Can’t have you passin’ out on your wedding day, yeah?” He said.

“How could I not remember, Frank?!” You sobbed.

Frank caught your tears with his thumbs, every one of them so they didn’t have a chance to streak down your cheeks.

“No, no, no. Ssshhh, ssshhh. It’s ok.” Frank said as he sat down next to you and pulled you into an embrace to soothe you. “Look, you both have had a lot goin’ on lately, planning a wedding. That’s enough to make you forget your own name, let alone something like this.”

You buried your head in your hands. “I should have remembered, Frank. I should have remembered. He’s there all alone.” You said.

Frank made sure he was looking straight into your eyes when he said his next words. “Y/n listen to me, Bill is strong and he’s strong because of all the shit he went through. I promise you he is ok. But if you wanna go find him, then let’s go find him, yeah? Curt and Maria can catch a ride back with Ginger, Lily, and Chris. You and me, we’ll find him. How many fire houses can there be?”

It turned out there were eight of them and Frank said he would let Billy explain why he did what he did. Ginger insisted that she go along too but you told her to go back to the city and stall the hair stylist and makeup artist for as long as she could by doing everyone else first and you would be back in time for you to get ready.

She reluctantly agreed but she still felt like she should go with you. She didn’t want Frank to be the only hero which made you laugh.

After checking four fire stations, you saw Billy’s car outside of the fifth one you checked. Frank barely put the car in park before you jumped out and ran toward the car but Billy wasn’t inside.

Where could he be? The cold winter air chilled you to the bone and stung your lungs every time you inhaled. Looking across the street, you saw a figure in a black leather jacket, a black beanie, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Billy.” You whispered to yourself before taking off across the street and leaving Frank in the car.

You called out his name so he could hear you. “BILLY!!”

Practically knocking him over, you crashed into him and buried your face into the cold leather of his jacket.

“What are you doin’ here, baby? You’re supposed to be getting ready!” He said, wiping the tears from your face.

Through broken sobs, you just kept repeating the same thing over and over. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t remember! I’m sorry!”

He stroked your hair, you could feel him smile against the top of your head, calming you and telling you it was alright, but you were still upset that he left without saying anything.

“You could have at least told me, Billy. Not in a note and sneaking away in the early morning hours. I would have understood if you wanted to do this alone if you just told me. You gotta talk to me, baby.” You said with a hitch in your voice.

Billy hugged you even tighter and apologized. “I’m sorry, my love. Sometimes I just don’t think. I am trying to be better about it though. I’m sorry, beautiful.” He said.

“Are you ok?” You asked.

He pulled away before he spoke again.

“She left me right here, ya know.” Billy said of his mother, moving to stand next to a bench and looking at the fire house directly in front of the both of you. “She told me to stay here and not to move. So I did…I—I listened to her, I waited, and she never came back.”

You took his hand in yours as he clenched his jaw and his knuckles turned white.

“You know why I wanted to come here today, y/n?” He asked.

You shook your head and tried to say “No” but nothing came out.

“I came here because I wanted to try and let go of the hate I have for her. She may have given me life but she didn’t give me A life. My life is with you—it’s with my new family. It’s with Frankie, our friends, Frank Jr. and Lisa. I don’t need to hold onto this hate anymore.” He said.

Obviously Billy could never forget what happened to him, he’ll always have that awful memory but you felt like he could start to heal from it now. The weekend he asked you to marry him, you had asked him while looking at his scars. “Do they still hurt?” You remembered he smiled his perfect smile at you and told you “Not anymore, my love. Not anymore.”

You were helping him heal.

“How do you feel now, Billy?” You asked him.

He turned his face toward yours, his onyx colored eyes peering down at you and he smiled. “I feel…” he paused for a minute. “I feel free…like I’m not waiting to go home anymore because I already have one. I love you.”

He gently pressed his lips to yours, they tasted like dark roast coffee and sugar. After he pulled back a little, you exhaled forcefully, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

“I love you too, Billy. I’ll always be your home.” You said.

He kissed you again but he was interrupted by Frank bellowing from across the street. “HEY!! I’m freezin’ my ass off! You two ready to go get married or what?! Let’s GO!”

“You ready to go get married, beautiful?” Billy asked as he held out his hand for you to take.

You smiled, placed your hand in his, and wiped one last tear from your cheek and said “Let’s get married, handsome.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff

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lamponellatempesta · 1 year

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Mayblade 2023 Day 1: The Past

Heyo people Mayblade it's finally here and this year I wanna try to join and do many prompts! I'll use the prompts to finally share and let my OC's from my Next Bey Generation AU known to the world! Hope will enjoy you all! (Also thanks to @gingericywolf for being my revision reader and correct all my works for this month, because my English sucks, really thank you buddy♥️)

Now enjoy the little story of today!

In the silent house the only thing you could hear was the rustle of photo album pages turning and three kids' voices, commenting on the various shots contained in it. You could hear the oldest, telling the little ones the story behind the various memories contained in the album; a radiant smile while describing the picture of his parents' wedding; the long black hair tied in the usual tail waving in the wind, his shy smile that day was shining, the beautiful red suit with meticulous details that made it perfect. "If you had longer hair, you’d be even more like Papa Rei, little brother!" says the oldest, ruffling the hair of the mumbling brother, who however hints at a smile before answering "Just that I’m not as good as him, Aiko, dear sister, and fortunately!" "Alex! Come on!". While the two older ones engaged in a small spat with jokes and sarcasm, the youngest of the three was lost looking at the details of the other person in the photo, of the white dress, of the make-up that did nothing but illuminate the bright smile as she squeezed her beloved’s hands and looked him in the eyes; one could see tears of happiness ready to explode. You could feel the happiness coming out of that shot, and the little girl wanted so much to have a love similar to that of her parents and smiled even more exclaiming, interrupting the argument of the other two, "I am instead just like Dad JD!!! Look at this!" And while the other two were looking at her, Juliet tried to smile like her father in the photo and the other two couldn’t help but smile back, "You’re dad JD, but with the personality of Papa Rei eheh." Juliet stuck her tongue out at him and then they all laughed together.

Alex heard the sound of more laughter coming from outside and, raising his head to check, he saw his parents. Rei was splashing JD with the water pipe that he had probably taken with the intent to water the garden and instead ended up probably getting revenge for a prank made by JD. "Look at those two, sisters, they look like two children eheh," said Alex to get the sisters' attention "Awww, our parents love each other so much!! Did they do that when we were little Aiko?" Juliet asked. "They are just two idiots, they have never changed, Juliet, on the contrary, they get worse and worse" Aiko replied with a loud laugh and then yelling at the two adults "YOU TWO ARE OLD, YOU WILL GET RHEUMATISM IF YOU KEEP SOAKING YOURSELVES LIKE THAT!"

The girl’s words got to Rei’s ears, who turned to look at her with a mockingly offended look and a defiant smile "Why don’t you come here and stop me then! I’m innocent! It’s your dad who’s guilty!" JD made one of his usual dramatic faces and then said, "I’m not guilty of anything!! It was an innocent prank, yes yes."

Alex raised an eyebrow "Sure dad, the devil is definitely more innocent than you." Rei turned to stare at JD, who had a shocked look. "Alex!! Oh come on!! Do not tell me that you are all on the side of pa..." He couldn’t finish the sentence that he heard Rei’s scream as he was being hit by Aiko with a new jet from a water gun, with an evil smile on his face he cheered. "AHHHHH GOOD JOB DARLING AHAHAH!"

But soon JD and Aiko were also drenched, by Alex and Juliet who had reached the fray. "Now we’re even and it’s war!" He shouted a combative and happy Rei and soon everything was just a great chaos of water, laughter and war of water guns.

The album left open on the sofa, was moved by a gust of wind that turned the page, stopping on a family portrait from years ago, when the three teenagers were just children, hugging their parents, who smiled radiantly holding them close to them, and a goat jumped at their feet, with an text next to it, "The Kon’s family", two hearts around and more phrases "Time may pass, but our family remains a force, you are everything." written by JD and "I thank life for allowing me to be happy, you make me happy, you are gold. Now and forever" written by Rei. And it was true, time had passed, that picture was past, but they were still there, in the present with the same energy and joy. The past is already in the albums, now it’s time to capture the present. And the Kon family will still have plenty to tell.

#mayblade 2023 #mayblade #Day 1: The past #Next Bey Generation AU #Rei Kon #JD Kon #Aiko Kon Asakura #Alex Kon #Juliet Jai Li Kon #The Kon Family #lampo writes #and here we are #they're finally out after years #this little story is sweet as a cake #thanks mayblade for coming in my help #happy to finally share these crazy teenagers with the world #someone is pretty happy i've finally done that AHAHAH #stay tuned for the next dayss

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hitnran · 3 years

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OBSESSIVE EX (gender neutral! reader)

how they deal with you having an obsessive ex

includes: ran, rindou

CW: obsessive behavior, cursing, stalking (ran), phone harassment (rindou), the haitani brothers lowkey kinda scary here (not to the reader) 💀 but i’m just trying to make it fit within their character

— RAN HAITANI

Getting into a relationship with someone like Ran, half of the charismatic brother duo that ruled Roppongi, almost means guaranteed safety wherever you go. His title itself is one that is feared when murmured. Whenever you two leave, he always has an eye and a hand on you. Ran knows well that even if he is feared, he can also be challenged and the last thing he wants is for you to get involved — you would make an easy target for his enemies.

You two were out together on a stroll around the city. Although there was nothing neither of you needed, Ran’s favorite thing is showing you off. Sometimes you start to feel similar to his younger brother, thinking that you’re just a shadow and only known as ‘Ran’s partner.’ But Ran’s intentions were opposite. He wanted everyone to know that it was him that belonged to you and it is him that people would have to deal with if you were ever tested.

As you two are walking, Ran noticed your eyes consistently checking itself to the side. He took note of that and eventually brushed it off since you stopped. But then he noticed that you were being especially keen and scanning the whole area.

“Are you okay, love?” Ran slightly hunches down, getting your attention as your face turns his way. He lightly smiles at you. “Did you see something you liked?”

You swallowed down hard. You could’ve sworn you saw a familiar face, but after trying to scan the area numerous times for the past few minutes, you thought it was just you being paranoid. The last thing you wanted was to worry Ran and cause a scene.

“I’m okay,” You shook your head, returning a light smile. You grabbed on his arm, this time a little tighter. “Let’s turn into this corner.”

Ran knows when you’re lying. He knew something made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to force you to tell him. Instead, he’ll make it his own problem too and deal with it himself.

This area was his territory and everyone knew it. It was almost as if Roppongi, a city known for liveliness, calmed down ever so slightly if one or both of the brothers were out. Everyone’s gaze wound be kept low and their conversations would go mute as they walk by.

At that moment, Ran could feel a pair of eyes staring your way. He won’t make it obvious though.

“Love,” Ran called out to you. You looked up his direction and he placed a hand against your lower back. “Rindou’s gonna throw a fit if I don’t bring back food for him. How about you go into the restaurant and order first while I call him and ask what he wants?”

You felt at ease hearing that you two were finally going to be in somewhere indoors, but it made you nervous that he would be separated from you for just a little while.

“Don’t wanna bring something back he won’t like and have him complain,” Ran lightly laughed, trying to ease your clear discomfort. He placed a hand over your head. Taking out his phone to add to his act. “I’ll be quick.”

After some hesitation, you gave in. It was a public space after all, so it shouldn’t have been anything to worry too much about. He watched as you entered the place before turning around, sending chills to the person who had been following you two around this whole time.

“Would be a shame if I left them alone for too long, wouldn’t it?” Ran gave off a sinister grin, slowly walking towards the person. “Wouldn’t want anyone to take them away…especially someone like you.”

Ran knew who this person was. He was an obsessive ex of yours that just would not leave you alone and accept the separation despite it being years passed. He gulped hard, nervously stepping back, not thinking that he would get caught.

“You were so bold to even follow us in the first place, why so shy now?” Ran smirked, hiking up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “This is the first time you’ve heard of me or something? I should introduce myself to you well and hard then.”

Almost ten minutes had passed since you’ve been waiting for Ran. You sat patiently and waited. Your best guess as to what’s taking him so long revolves around Rindou. Maybe he was complaining about how he wanted food from a different place or being picky about menu opinions. Just as you were about to raise yourself from your seat to check up on Ran, you saw him enter.

“Did I make you wait too long?” Ran appeared, seating himself in front of you. The worse case scenario you had in mind was that he got into a fight, but in front of you, he looked just as how you last saw him. “You know how Rindou is.”

Your chest became relaxed and you gave a small smile, shaking your head, “What did he want from here?”

“I didn’t even listen to what he said,” Ran teased, opening up his menu and leaning back against the chair. You felt his legs sandwich your calves from beneath the table. “He can order it himself. All my money is going to you today.”

And that was how Ran liked it. Although Ran wanted everyone to know that he belonged to you, he knew how important it was for others to know that you belonged to him too. The image of the face of your ex is burned so clearly into his brain — face all bloodied up, mauled almost, as he failed to even whisper for forgiveness.

“I think there’s only one way I’m gonna let you outta here alive,” Ran kicked his body down with force, hearing something shift in his jaw. He couldn’t give half a damn about it. “Do you know what that is?”

Your ex was visibly beaten and weak now, barely able to even blink or properly form a sentence. Though, with his adam’s apple slightly moving from fear, Ran took it as a response.

Grabbing him by his hair upward, Ran bent down, looking straight at him, “You’re gonna leave them alone and never show your goddamn face again. If it wasn’t fucked already before, it sure is now. I promise you I’ll know if you’re even barely visible or a mile away, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Ran thought it was so disgusting how someone like you could ever have your time wasted on someone low like this ex of yours. Even if Ran saw him and his brother above everyone else, he always put you above him.

“Maybe even after this, I’ll send one of my men to go and beat the shit out of you every day so you could suffer for as long as you’ve tried to bother Y/N.”

— RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou can’t even remember what it took for you two to even reach this state of your guys relationship. He convinced himself that it was Ran, his older brother who wouldn’t shut up about how he was going to take you if Rindou didn’t make a move.

It genuinely surprises himself even whenever he looks your way, observing every detail and soaking in the idea that you are someone he can call his.

You two were watching a movie, or rather, supposed to. Rindou was too focused on side-eyeing you every now and then. You caught him a few times, but he would brush it off with comments like “this movie is boring” or “I’m just checking to see if you fell asleep.”

He would snap himself out of a trance after hearing your phone ring beside you. You eyed it once, looking at the caller ID and ignoring it. It wasn’t enough to cause Rindou to worry - it’s not his problem if you just didn’t wanna answer a call, it was your guys’ time anyway.

But then it rang once more again. Your ringtone dragged itself out halfway through before Rindou slightly raised his hand from your hip, pointing to the phone on the side of the couch.

“You not gonna answer that?” He asked.

You shook your head, eyes focused on the TV, “It’s fine. It’s an unknown caller ID.”

Rindou shrugged, ignoring it once again, but after a few more calls and your phone receiving back to back text messages, it was starting to irk him. He was close to just grabbing your phone and answering the call himself, but you were quick to act before him, just shutting it off.

“It must be spam or something,” You sighed, sitting back down.

“Yeah, well whatever it is, good thing you shut that damn thing off. That shit was annoying,” Rindou sighed, curling his arms around you again. “Let’s change the movie too or something. This one is boring.”

One thing about dating Rindou is that he seems uninterested in absolutely everything he does. Although you avoid thinking like that when it comes to your relationship with him, you always remind yourself that Rindou is someone who deeply cares for you. He shows it very differently compared to others, but you know.

He can recall a memory from a few weeks ago where you kept getting calls in the middle of your guys’ date. It annoyed him, but not as much as it annoyed you. You’ve pressed the red decline button at least five times now, stressing over it and spilling out everything about your previous ex.

At the end of your rant, Rindou grabbed your phone, picking up the call and saying words as simple as “leave them alone.” It was so simple, but for the next few weeks, it was silent. You finally thought you were free of harassment thanks to your boyfriend, but recently, they’ve been coming back as unknown caller IDs and more frequent than before.

Halfway through the movie, Rindou felt your body become more loose and relaxed beneath him. Your breath became slower and more steady. You had fallen asleep. He thought it was ironic to have someone as angelic as you in the arms of someone like him - a gang member always involving himself in trouble, even just for fun.

He stared at your phone just a reach away and then back at you. The last thing Rindou wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or really, anything that isn’t where you aren’t happy.

When you woke up, the TV was shut off and you felt a blanket drape over your body. You realized you had fallen asleep from earlier, but you were expecting to find your boyfriend with you as well. That was when the door swung open and you were greeted with Rindou.

“Rindou?” You slowly let out, still adjusting from waking up. “I didn’t know you left.”

He raised a bag up midway in the air, it’s a bag from a bakery you often bought from, “You kept murmuring about it in your sleep. Didn’t want you to wake up all grumpy.”

“I don’t wake up grumpy!” You protested, watching as he took his seat next to you and unpacking all of your favorites.

“Yeah, okay,” Rindou joked. He listened to you puffing out before wrapping yourself around his arm.

“Thank you though,” You murmured out of embarrassment - maybe he was half right.

“It’s nothing,” He replied, softening his face into a grin. “Must’ve been hungry though if it got you talking in your sleep and drooling on my arm.”

You didn’t even know about half of the things he does for you, but he didn’t mind it, because if you were happy, then that was all that mattered.

It made Rindou feel guilty to turn on your phone and look through it. It wasn’t something that he ever felt the need to do - he trusted you and it felt wrong if you weren’t aware that he was using it. Though, at this time, he felt like it was for the better.

While you were silently sleeping, he browsed through your texts. It’s that same person - your ex back again to bother you. Rindou scoffed, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you up, but he was angry. He clicked his tongue whilst composing a message.

Rindou knew you would never be so stupid as to meet up with someone like this, especially not after already experiencing it once. It was a good thing that it was just Rindou posing as you though. How delighted your ex felt to have finally received a response to you - ‘Let’s meet up here.’

Rindou thought it was so pathetic. This guy had no idea what he looked like, let alone that you even had a boyfriend. So when Rindou’s immediate reaction upon seeing him was to throw a punch, he was shocked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your ex cried out, trying his best to dodge his attacks but failing in between his words and attempts.

“Me?!” Rindou snapped, pushing him to the ground and twisting his arms. “Speak for yourself.”

The man beneath him screamed in pain, “I-I’ll call the cops on you and have you arrested!”

“Yeah? You think they’ll give me less time if I tell them I was just trying to teach a creep a lesson?” Rindou pulled back on his arms a little harder, tendons and muscles stretching themselves out of place.

“T-The hell are you talking about?!” He stuttered out.

“Don’t bitch around. Might end yourself up in there if you keep this act of yours up - I’ve been once before,” Rindou smirked, pulling back more and more on his arms. “It was fine for me. My big bro and I even got some respect while in there, so what’s gonna happen when they hear about your name from me? You’re fresh meat to them.”

“W-Who even are you?!”

Rindou scoffed, “The same guy who warned you once to leave Y/N alone. I should’ve honestly went to find you myself personally and beat the shit out of you, but I hate wasting my time.”

Your boyfriend let the man go. If his arms weren’t all bent out of place and dislocated, he’d be crawling away by now. It was a sight that Rindou would laugh at. Upon seeing that his phone had fallen out of his pocket, the same phone used to consistently harass you, Rindou stomped down hard, breaking it into bits and pieces.

“Don’t waste my time again. Next time you do, call the cops, I promise you I won’t care if they catch me killing you,” Rindou turned his back around.

#tokyorev x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Mine — Kaz Brekker

(photo not mine)

Requests: “9 from the fluff prompts with Kaz brekker please? It could be where they're keeping it a secret and it slips out? Thanks”

“Could you possibly do a kaz brekker and reader imagine where they are both like in their mid twenties. Number 9 from the fluff prompts “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" "No, that girl is my wife”, I could just imagine him with the smuggest grin saying it. Your a very good writer and thank you if you decide to write this.”

“Could I get a kaz brekker x reader secret relationship with fluff prompts 5, 7, 12, and 14 please?”

Fluff prompts:

5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

7. “I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

12. “I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!”

14. “I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of fights, mention of post-traumatic stress, fluff too.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like. I changed some details a little, hope you don't mind

Normal Rules. Smut Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — —

Fissure. That's what mercenaries, thieves, assassins and his enemies were looking for. A fissure to drive Kaz Brekker to ruin. Burn his empire, wood for wood, until there is nothing left but funeral ashes swept away by the winter wind. Even the most infinitesimal fissure would ensure that his enemies infiltrate, like hungry parasites, into the heart of the dungeon of his deepest secrets. Swallowing, absorbing, any hint of what could do the infamous the Bastard of the Barrel down to his own knees.

And Kaz Brekker feared that if they looked into the most secluded corner of his dungeons, where it was reserved to hide the greatest truths of his soul, they would find the one only thing to beg on his knees for would be something he would do without hesitation.

You.

You were like the last summer solstice in a world ruled by darkness, cold and empty. Which he kept in a chest locked with seven chains.

If he had to describe you with the five senses, Brekker would remind that, when he was in the bitter cold of the ocean, clutching the stiffness of dead and putrefying flesh like a lifeboat, a ray of sunshine, warm as the summer, it opened up through the thunderclouds and came down to his face, warming that spot of skin like a kiss from the sun.

And it would be with that memory that he would describe you.

Kaz Brekker shouldn't have fallen in love with you. He was the person who most understood the disastrous consequences if he let himself get carried away by the way his heart sped up whenever he saw you. If he allowed herself to taste the way all of your heat radiated into his body and made him feel alive. But he fell in love.

Everything was all too much. The feeling of life every time you said his name, like a devotion, something religious, lyrical. The sweetness in your eyes, the warm voice. Everything had been too much.

And what should he do? Tell you he missed you every time you went on a mission? Saying that he were jealous and envy of Jesper because the man managed to make you laugh with a silly joke and hug you tight, something Kaz still hadn't been able to do? Tell you it was almost religious the way he venerated your smile? Of course not. Because all these things would have been sensible, and Kaz couldn't do anything sensible around you.

Because when he saw life offering him, with such joy, the one thing that had been denied him all his life, and that he swore never to crave, his first impulse was anger. Stupid, irrational anger.

So, for the first few moments, his entire reaction to you had been cold, distant, almost avoidant. Because the way his whole body shook in hot spasms when, in that summery tone, you called his name, it was too much for Kaz to handle.

“Kaz!” You call, one night.

He heard your voice from across the crow club, and had to close his eyes tightly at the way his heart leapt in his chest.

"Hey, hey." You appeared beside him, your cheeks chased away by coral red, the happy smile and the sparkle in your eyes as someone who have the path to true happiness. "Jessy said you were wanting to find a new way to invade that bank."

Oh perfect. In the same way his body exalted when he heard the sound of your name and your lips, hearing you call Jesper by that infernal nickname had a much more destabilizing effect. And fierce.

Kaz raised an eyebrow at you, in a nonchalant gesture but inviting you to keep talking.

“I happen to know of an underground path.” For an instant, the pride in your smile made Kaz want to smile too. “You and I can put together a map today and we'll be right tomorrow to go.”

That was one of the times Kaz should have made some dry, disinterested, trivial comment, something that made you not want to spend time with him, something that made you turn around and walk away. He should have turned around and left. He had done this over a thousand times with other people and knew it to be one of the best outings.

Still, the acid comment didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

So, like the idiot he became whenever it came to you, Kaz couldn't help but spend an hour in your company. Even if it resulted in him lying in bed at the end of the day, alone and feeling the guilt gnawing at him more and more.

So, before he even knew it, Kaz was already in his office with you, listening to you chatter about things he knew he should have been paying attention to. But the way the crackling of the fire flames in the fireplace flashed across your face was a distraction of unimaginable proportions.

“Jessy and I…”

“You want to stop.” He found himself saying before he even realized it. “That nickname is already exasperating me.”

“Why? Jealousy?” You joked, oblivious to the truth.

Kaz looked at you like your comment was the most pathetic thing he'd ever heard. He wanted to screaming: ‘I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!.’ But he didn't. Instead, the words that came out were:

“No. It's childish and immature, and it doesn't fit with...”

"What if I call you ‘Darling’?” You rested your chin on both palms of your hand, your elbows resting on his desk in his office.

Kaz's heart skipped a beat.

“That way you won't be jealous of Jessy's nickname and…”

“It's not jealousy!” He countered, and too late realized that he didn't disagree in the first instance about the nickname, but about the green color that emanated from his body.

And you didn't let that go either.

Your eyes took on a caustic gleam that you quickly hid, turning to the map on the table and going back to drawing the paths. “Okay, Darling.”

After that night, Kaz's self-control began to crumble.

He gave you death glares whenever you called him that nickname, but he never dared contradict or scold you. Much less deny it. The truth was, the core of his soul wanted this. He wanted every part of your caress warm as summer. He wanted to appreciate how perfect you looked when you called him that way. As if that nickname was born just to be used between you.

Something unique.

Over time, his body's physical reactions began to be stronger, coercive and overwhelming. Kaz felt dry, burning, and you soothed and inflamed him at the same time. You were the breath of peace, and also a glass of hot brandy.

And everything that he once felt dead, frozen or putrefying, slowly began to blossom, reborn and shine.

"Darling." You said, going behind the chair Kaz was sitting in, submerged in the Krisha security system sheets in front of he. “You've been there for hours.”

He ignored you, though his body was all too aware of yours behind him, the way your breath hit the top of his ear, how your heat hit his back like a high summer breeze. Kaz swallowed hard, ordering his eyes to stay on the pages.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice rang out from the top of his head, and Kaz felt his heart race into a cardiac arrhythmia the second your hands went to the back of the chair and your face tilted, chin hovering millimeters from his shoulder, your nose almost brushing his cheek.

Fucking Saints! You were hot! It was as if you had sun bathed, swam in the flames of fire, and been born into the summer.

Kaz lost his breath. His sanity. His soul.

“Do not do this.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

You looked at him, the furs not touching but breath hitting each other's cheeks. Kaz followed your gaze, and suddenly the world subtly turned hot. Pulsing and muffled.

“What?” You whispered, your heart so fast.

This was the time for Kaz to use the touche in a very valid argument. To make you move away as fast as you approached. To nip in the bud any path this interaction between you could take. He should have said about the touch. But he didn't remember. Kaz didn't remember his limitation, his traumas, his demons.

In that second, of insanity and magic, you couldn't do that just because…

"I feel like I cant breathe when I'm around you." He said.

After that day, Kaz realized that life no longer made sense without having you by his side to share it. Money didn't have the same value anymore if you weren't there, the robberies didn't make sense anymore if he couldn't tell you how it was at the end of the day, or have you by his side to fight.

Very quickly, Kaz Brekker realized that he had lost the battle against his own feelings. Loving you was inevitable. And having you close to him was made as essential as breathing. That's when things between the two of you developed faster, more solid, more right. The weeks turned to months, the months to years, and your relationship fortified as gloriously as the hilt of a sword.

Kaz still had very difficult moments with touching, days when a single brush of fur was unbearable and the mention of a kiss was impossible. But you stayed there. Firm and unshakable. Giving your summer smiles,your warm winks, and his nickname that had the power to soothe every nerve in Kaz's body.

However, the more Kaz understand that he was need you to he still live, the deeper he hid any trace of public affection for you. Any clue that could sparked the theory in someone that you were the reason, for Brekker, for the sun rose every morning. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Never.

Kaz Brekker became very aware that his soul was harnessed to yours. And there was nothing in the world that would take you away from he. Not while he lived, and even seven feet from land, Kaz would still find a way to fight for you.

It was a logical decision when he said you two should get married. Kaz was still trying to maintain his serene posture as his soul burned in a fire too eager and excited to make official anything that said you were his. That he had finally managed to have that ray of sunshine in the midst of the atrocious ocean. You, unlike him, exhaled your happiness in excited squeals, little jumps of joy and a passionate, quick kiss on the man in front of you.

And Kaz understood, as perfectly as the sky are blue, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to be worthy of that overwhelming happiness that sparkled in yours smiles.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He said, feeling himself smile because your happiness for the wedding was exorbitant.

And you, like the little tease you were who loved to make him piss off, smiled even more and hugged him. He love you. Unconditionally.

But, just like the ocean waves, Kaz and you have had your ups and downs. He wasn't a man who had a lot of patience, and you weren't the most obedient, calm woman in the world. You found him exasperating and he found you as stubborn as a door.

"I already said you can't do that!" And there he was, once again, lecturing you because you showed too much affection, in his mind, for him in a public situation.

And, as Kaz fucking Brekker liked to point out, ‘all walls have eyes and ears’.

"We've been together for six years, Kaz!" You tried to keep your blood calm, but you weren't a person to put up with sermons. “Is this going to be our life? Living as if we have the same connection as a boss and an employee?!”

“And what do you want, Y/n?!” He placed both hands on his office desk, looking at you from the other side “Want us to have a party and tell everyone?! Or do you prefer to hang a red target on your chest?!”

"I did not say that!" You were starting to get really angry. “I'm not asking for a billboard saying we're married and you know it! The only thing I'm saying is that you let me choose to sit next to you, take your hand, or tell you I love you when any of us go off on a dangerous mission!"

Kaz shook his head, impassable, his gaze flashing with anger. How did you not realize he was trying to save you?! Save everything you two built, your lives! And all this for what? Walking hand in hand on the street? It was ridiculous!

“This is indisputable!”

“Kaz…”

“I said no!” He slapped his hands on the table.

A less brave woman would have cringed. But not you.

“I don’t like to pretend we’re not together!”

“And I don't like a fucking girl who complains all the fucking time about something I do to save her! But it feels like I've been put up with it for six years, doesn't it?!”

The words hit you like a slap. Crackling, burning and electrifying. You felt yourself holding your breath and your shoulders instinctively tightening back. The room was silent. Loaded with tension, as if lightning had just hit the ground.

You looked at Kaz in amazement. And he pursed his lips when he realized what he'd said.

“Put up with? And you call me ‘fucking girl’ ?” You repeated, your voice low, serious and in a mixture of hurt and outrage. “Good to know.”

You turned your back, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind you hard, making the thud reverberate through the corridors of Kaz's soul.

"Y/n!" He called you, striding to the door "Y/n!"

But when Kaz pulled the doorknob and took a few steps down the hall, it wasn't you he bumped into. It was Nina, trying to hide, in a very terrible way, her curious and shocked expression. In female hands she carried a small stack of documents, probably something important that Kaz needed to check.

He had to check that out. But his eyes, restless and quick, wandered the great hall of the crow club below, watching your figure pass between the bodies, advancing towards the exit.

"Sooo…" Nina started, even though the attention wasn't on her. "Couple fights, right?"

But Kaz didn't think before nodding, trying to get past Nina to catch up with you. But of course the girl wasn't going to let Brekker get away with it that quickly. She was betting with Inej how long you two would pretend to have nothing. And now she was going to get the truth!

"So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" The smile of shock and excitement was wide open on her face.

Kaz muttered a curse, gently pushing the girl aside and moving towards the stairs, aiming to catch up with you. But not before answering:

"No, that girl is my wife!"

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz x jesper #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #freddy carter x you #freddy carter imagines #freddy carter fluffy #freddy carter x reader #freddy carter

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gavin-plz-call-me · 3 years

Text

Trust in Him

TW: Depictions of sexual harassment and sexual assault

You love your job, so when one of your coworkers begins to harass you, you're scared that you'll have to choose between your job and your safety. Luckily, Artem is here to support you.

This is my first time writing about sexual harassment/assault, so I apologize in advance if it's not a perfectly accurate portrayal.

AO3

Word Count: 3.3k

You needed this job, those words alone were all that kept you from doing something rash, but your resolve was growing thinner and thinner by the day. Every day you worked in the office, which, luckily for you, grew less frequent after becoming partners with Artem and joining NXX, one of your co-workers in particular was bound to come speak with you. This wouldn't be an issue if he were speaking to you about work issues, or a case, hell, even the weather but he, Julius, never came over for any productive reasons. The two of you had worked a case together a few months ago, but other than that, you should be complete strangers.

You could see Julius approaching from the corner of your eye, a nasty smirk plastered on his, and you hated to admit this, conventionally attractive face. While others might swoon at his good looks, you had to hold back a gag as he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, enveloping your senses in his stale scent. He then slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching your ear, and whispered "That shirt makes your tits look great," his disgustingly wet breath sent shivers through your body as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and headed off like nothing happened.

As far as you knew, you were his only victim. The other ladies in the office swooned over him, speaking highly of his good looks and "great" skills as a lawyer. A few who had witnessed his advances towards you and misinterpreted your blush as shy interest complained of how envious they were that such a handsome, successful man was interested in you, and you kept quiet. You had heard enough horror stories of women who had come out about work-place harassment who were fired, never given or even considered for promotions, and even sued for slander, and you couldn't let any of that happen to you, you had to tolerate it. A job at Themis law firm is a dream for many law students, you included, and you wouldn't let that slip away. Even if you had to endure harassment, even if you had to leave your desk to escape to the bathroom some days because you couldn't keep the tears out of your eyes, even if you couldn't fall asleep some nights because images of what he's done to you and what he's capable of doing to you infect your mind, even if you had to start wearing ill-fitting clothes to hide your figure in an attempt to get him to leave you alone, and even if you were terrified to be in a room alone with him, lest he become bolder, you had to persevere. If everything in your life went right, you'd become his boss one day, and when that day came, you could fire his ass.

Of course, though, you weren't the boss, and you had to listen to what yours said. So, when your manager approached you a few days after Julius's latest incident telling you you'd be assisting him in a case, there wasn't much you could do to get out of it. Artem and you weren't working on any urgent cases at the moment, so he gave them permission to steal you away for the case. You were very skilled in working the case type Julius was "stuck on" so your manager said you the obvious choice for the job. There was no way out.

Julius invited you into his office with a sickly-sweet smirk and an almost impermeable wink as a knot settled in your stomach. Something in you screamed at you, don't go in there, it yelled, anywhere else. Just not his office.

"Well, I wouldn't want to intrude in your personal space," You said, trying to keep an aura of professionalism while also trying to protect yourself. There were still others around, if you start to show your discomfort, you'd be found out. You felt like you were lying, in a way, maybe you were? Guilt ran up and down your spine, and you hoped the feeling didn't translate to your expression.

"Oh, MC." His voice was outwardly cheery with an undertone of something, though you couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, "You could never be an intrusion to me. Let's use my office, I insist."

No, no no, the voice within you screamed again, you felt your breath hitch slightly, but you forced your breaths to be normal, despite how badly your lungs wanted you to gasp for air. "I would prefer it if we worked somewhere else, Julius." His name tasted disgusting on your tongue, "My desk for example," the two of you squeezed together, trying to work at the same small desk, his smell surrounding you, "or an empty conference room," still alone in a room together, his hands reaching out to touch your body, "or-"

"Mc, this would all be much simpler if we just worked in my office, I promise you, I don't mind." There was a hint of aggravation in Julius's voice, but it disappeared the longer he spoke. "There won't be any meeting halls open, now come on, let's go to my office."

You stood still for half a second, debating just running away, job be damned, but you didn't have time to start walking. You hadn't even decided which way to go, towards Julius's office or towards the main exit, when a voice rang out, "Mc, Julius, conference room six is open." You turned around, eyes meeting the bright sapphire eyes belonging to Artem. His brows were slightly furrowed, looking you up and down.

"Great," You said before Julius could say a word, "thank you Artem." You turned back to Julius, his eyes were much less kind than Artem's, and all you wanted to do was turn back to face the man with the beautiful eyes and put Julius in the depths of your memories, but you plaster on a fake smile as you say, "conference room six it is, then!" You quickly passed Julius, feeling two sets of eyes burning into you as you walked away. Julius's office was past conference room six, so as you entered the room Julius walked towards his own office instead, muttering something about needing to grab his case files.

You were glad that you didn't end up in his office, but the conference room wasn't much better, panic began building up in your chest again. There were large windows leading out into the hallway, which you sat right in the middle of giving anyone who walked by a perfect view of you and whatever you were doing. Conference room six was the most open of the conference rooms, but the hallway around here was never too busy. The windows also left a few blind spots, places he could back you into if he really wanted to. With slightly shaky hands you opened your laptop, opening an audio recording app. There weren't any security cameras in this conference room, and even though your gut stopped you from telling anyone about Julius, something within you told you to record.

The door to the conference room quickly opened and shut. You minimized the recording app, the pulsing red dot indicating that it’s recording disappears along with it. Julius throws a few case files onto the conference table before walking around to sit directly next to you. You rolled your chair away from him slightly, trying to escape his revolting stench. You began speaking about the case, reading the case files, and making comments about the stranger details, details you could use to defend your client.

The two of you continued to talk about the case for a while, the anxiety that had grown so high before began to dwindle, maybe you were wrong. Maybe Julius wasn’t going to take this chance to do something horrible to you, maybe he never was going to do anything to you. Had you just imagined his threats? “Mr. Johnson’s embezzlement of the school’s funds could be grounds for-”

"Tease," Julius interrupted you, his voice much darker, almost an inhumane growl, than what it was when you were surrounded by your coworkers. Darker than it was even a few seconds before when you were talking about the case.

"E-excuse me?" you asked, your professional front slipping, anxiety raising in your stomach once again.

Julius inched closer to you, holding the back of your chair to prevent you from rolling further away from him, "I said, you're a fucking tease Mc. Making me go back and forth like that." The undertone you couldn't pinpoint from before was back, but it was much more pronounced now. Anger mixed with desire, his unkempt nails dug into the skin of your thigh as he pushed himself onto you, "but you're not gonna tease me anymore."

Desperately, you pushed your feet against the floor as hard as you could, propelling your chair into the one behind you, allowing you to stand up and try to make it to the door. Julius's hand violently grabbed your wrist, yanking you back towards him. “Come on, Mc,” he growled in your ear, “everyone in the office knows you’re whoring around to get to the top. You can’t refuse me.”

You struggled against his grip, but every movement you made had him tightening his hold around your wrist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julius.” you gasped as the pain of his hand on you became too much.

This seemed to enrage Julius, who suddenly stood up from his chair, forcing you against the wall furthest from the door. Your head smacked violently into the wall sending sparks of pain through your vision. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone knows you’re putting out for Artem. Why else would he choose some sub-par slut of a lawyer to be his partner?”

“I-I didn’t-” Julius put more pressure on you as you tried to speak, stopping your words completely.

“Let’s put it this way, Mc,” Julius's hands snaked in opposite directions, one reaching your throat, putting suffocating pressure on it, the other gripping your ass, pulling you unwillingly closer to his body, “You put out for Artem to advance your career, and if you’re a good little slut for me, you can keep your career.” He pulled you somehow tighter into him, his mouth ghosting your ear before delivering a harsh bite into its flesh. “If not, you can kiss being a lawyer goodbye.”

The knot in your stomach twisted, the job you were passionate about, the coworkers you loved, Artem, your senior partner who had already taught you so much, could he really take all of that away from you? Was it really worth it to lose all that to him? Maybe you should just let him have you, once to save your job. But, as Julius’s hand moved from your ass forward, threatening to touch you in a much more intimate place, something in you broke. No. You wouldn’t let him take your career away, but you also wouldn’t let him have you. Throughout your career as a lawyer, you fought and fought and fought for your clients, day in and day out so they could find justice, and it was time for you to fight for yourself.

You thrust your knee upwards into Julius’s groin, and in the split second where he was caught off guard, you used all your strength to push him off of you. You ran for your laptop, his angered cries of pain filling the room as he stood motionless in the spot you left him in, grasping at his groin, trying to ease the pain. You took the opportunity to haphazardly grab your laptop and head for the door. Julius’s hand grazed your arm again as he regained some of his movement, but you were too far away from him at this point. He couldn’t reach you.

Escaping the suffocating air of that conference room could have been the happiest moment of your life. You saw Julius staring at you from the corner of your eye, still standing in the conference room, slightly doubled over. He wouldn’t dare chase you through the office, and he was out of sight before you could figure out what his next move would be. Adrenaline pumping through your body, you made your way across the office. You weren’t sure where your legs were taking you until you were already knocking at the door you sought out, Artem’s office.

The moment you saw Artem as he opened the door, his face going from stoic as always, then softening at the sight of you, and finally, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he got a better look at you all in a matter of seconds, the emotions you had kept hidden for months suddenly broke free. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, so you broke your gaze away from Artem, opting to look down at your own shoes instead. You really didn’t want to cry in front of Artem. You so desperately wanted to be a great lawyer like him, famous for winning countless cases. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable as to cry in front of a coworker, and you wanted to follow in his footsteps. You tried to push them back, but they refused.

Artem put a gentle hand on your upper back as he led you into his office, closing the door behind him, and placing his jacket on you. It smelt strongly of him. You could detect hints of vanilla from his cologne which made you want to envelop yourself further into the cloth. He led you to the sofa in his office, Artem himself sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. His kind, gentle movements, so contrasting from Julius’s threats, made the tears stream down your face harder. You began to shake from the loss of adrenaline, and you buried your face in your hands.

Artem was at a loss for what to do. He’d never seen you cry before, he felt helpless as he watched you heave from your tears. One thing was certain in his mind, however: Julius had something to do with this. He could sense your discomfort earlier when he’d suggested the two of you use conference room six to discuss business. He could tell you were trying your hardest to suppress the feelings, but they were prevalent enough on your person for him to detect, but his actions had failed to protect you further. A part of him wanted to leave the office immediately, find Julius, and beat him to a pulp wherever he stood, but a more sensible part of him knew you needed him right now. Julius could be dealt with later.

Slowly, Artem stood up from his place on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a good few feet away from you in order to give you space. You finally looked up at him when you felt his weight on the couch. Your eyes were red and irritated from the tears, makeup running down your face in light gray streaks. You desperately wiped away at them, but it didn’t make a difference. Artem’s soft voice finally broke the silence between the two of you, “Mc, can I hug you?” The hysterical part of your brain was surprised by his words. In your emotional state, you expected him to reject you, and act disgusted by your emotions. You nodded slightly, desperately wanting his comfort.

Before you knew it, Artem had slid closer to you on the couch, taking you in his arms, and gently pressing you into his chest. This simple action started your tears anew. You began crying harder than before, gasping for breath. Clumsy words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to tell Artem what had happened. You thought he deserved to know why you came to his office crying, but Artem simply gently shushed you, rubbing comforting circles into your back. “You don’t need to say anything yet, Mc,” he whispered

The two of you stayed like that for a long time until your tears eventually slowed to a stop. At that point, you pulled away from Artem, desperately missing his warmth as soon as you did so. Artem slid his hand in yours, giving it a gentle, supportive, squeeze before speaking again, “If you’d like to tell me what happened, I’ll be here for you, okay?” Artem’s comforting words, his warm hand in yours, and his beautiful blue eyes made everything that’s happened with you in relation to Julius spill. You couldn’t look at him as you told him about everything: the case you worked on together, how he’d continue to go to your desk even when the case was over, how that escalated to the harassment you had to endure, what just happened in the conference room, and the audio recording of the incident.

When your gaze finally settled back on Artem, he was wearing an expression you had never seen on him before. It was anger, it was concern, it was... it was something else you couldn’t quite place. Artem pushed himself up from the couch, his eyes on the door to the office. You tightly grasped his arm, stopping him from moving towards the door. The door meant he’d tell, the door meant all your fears would come to fruition, the door meant you’d have to face the world outside Artem’s warm embrace again, and you didn’t want that. “Please don’t,” you whimpered, new tears stinging your eyes, “don’t tell anyone, please.” A sob escaped your throat, making Artem sit back on the couch next to you. “I love my job here, I love working with you and Kiki. I love being your partner and working on NXX cases with you. I don’t want to lose it all.”

Artem was back to rubbing circles into your skin, this time at the base of your shoulder. “You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

“B-But, so many people have b-been fired because they r-report assault, I-I can’t l-let that happen.”

“Mc,” Artem said, his voice slightly stern, but still gentler than you’d ever heard it before, “please look at me.” Your eyes trailed up his body, which was still holding you, and finally met his eyes. “I won’t let that happen, okay?” His hand found your hair, gently combing through it with his fingers, “I promise you that you’ll be okay, that your job will be okay. I’ll put Julias in jail if it’s the last case I ever take, just please, please let me help you.” Before that day, you could never imagine Artem crying, but you knew the sight of his eyes filled with tears was real. He allowed you to see his emotions just as you’d allowed him to see yours. He wasn’t some emotionless lawyer who would allow his coworker to be fired because they told the truth. He was a man who’d openly share your emotions with you, even if that meant sharing your tears. You could trust him, you knew that now.

“Okay,” you let the word with a shaky breath, “I trust you, Artem.”

Artem stood up from his place next to you, not letting your hand go quite yet. He leaned over you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, before looking into your eyes, determination filling his own sapphire ones. Your body slightly tensed when Artem finally removed his hand from yours, you quickly grew cold at the lack of his warmth, but you let him go. You watched his figure as he reached the door, taking one more glance behind him towards you, and left, shutting the door behind him. Eventually, you knew, everything would be okay again.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fic #tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis artem #artem x reader #artem wing #angst #hurt/comfort #tw sex assault #tw sa #tw sex harrasment #artem wing x reader

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Can I request a celebrity AU with Elizabeth Olsen and Female Reader? Where R is Vision in the MCU. And like throughout a series of interviews and behind the scenes shots, you can see how the two actually fall in love in real life. And in like the final interview they ask “Are you two dating?” And this time they can finally say yes

Hello darling, how are you? I hope well. This took me a while, and i’m not sure you’re even going to like it. But i hope you do. It was honestly kind of strange to write for Lizzie, i kept mistaken the name as Wanda. Also, i changed your idea a bit, because i could find the right way to write the interviews. But anyway, here it is. Good reading.

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Love is outside the screen

Summary: The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: None.

Words: 4.308 words //// Read on AO3

Marks: @wandamaximoffpuppy

Part. 2 || Part 3

Eight years ago

Your agent was calling you for the third time, and you thought you should answer before you lost your contract.

Letting out an impatient sigh as you reached for your cell phone, you left it on speaker.

- Hello, Sara. - You say with a slight irony as you relax your body in the water of the jacuzzi again.

- It's not polite to ignore someone who keeps you employed. - she said irritated, making you laugh.

- Sorry, but I told you I was on vacation. - You reminded her. - And what did you keep doing? Oh yes, calling me.

- Don't be so grumpy, woman. - She replied with a light humor in her voice, and you could hear the clatter of keystrokes, suggesting that she was working. - I have an opportunity for you.

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity, but said nothing. And by your silence, Sara kept talking.

- Tell me, have you ever thought about being a superhero?

You let out an incredulous laugh, thinking it was a joke.

- I'm not going to make any weird latex movies, Sara. - You warn her, and she lets out a laugh.

- Actually, honey, it's Marvel.

You blink in surprise, and then turn to rest your arms on the edge of the jacuzzi and look directly at your cell phone.

- What are you talking about?

- Ah, caught your interest, huh? - She remarks. - You actors are all the same, one famous name and you fall to your knees.

- Sara...

- No, it's okay. - She giggles. - They want a openly queer actress to play a lesbian heroine, I think. And then they called me.

- Wow, Marvel doing something like that? - You comment. - It sounds like a lie.

Sara giggles.

- It pays well anyway. - She says, and then a notification pops up on the screen. - I just sent you the script. Let me know if I can confirm your audition.

You let out a sigh before saying goodbye and hanging up, grabbing your cell phone to read the script.

It is the scene description of your character's appearance, and there is also a note for the chemistry test. You bite your lips thoughtfully. You were known in the media for roles in international, indie and cult films, mostly lesbian romance. You had a few academy nominations, and had been awarded twice by the critics. Superheroes were not really what you were looking for. But then you remembered how much you missed having a lgbt reference in media like this, and then you are sending a message to your agent confirming your audition.

//-//

Present

You are twiddling your thumbs in your dressing room. It must be the ninth interview in less than two weeks. Letting out a sigh, you stand up, momentarily looking at your appearance in the mirror. The make-up team did a good job, you look well. And then you are walking outside, to the dressing room next to yours.

You knock on the door, and are soon answered. But Elizabeth doesn't smile when she pulls you inside.

- Hey, Lizzie, what's up? - you ask worriedly as you close the door. The next second she's hugging you tight, and you sigh. - You're anxious, aren't you?

- I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my mouth. - She grumbles and you start stroking her back, trying to calm her down.

- Remember that exercise we practiced, okay? - You ask her tenderly as you move your feet so that you move together toward the sofa in the living room. You break the embrace slowly, to sit Lizzie down on the couch as you kneel in front of her. She looks on the verge of tears, and you place your hands on top of hers. - Breathe with me, okay?

It will take you many minutes to calm her down, but you don't care. And then she smiles, and brings your foreheads together.

- Thank you. - She whispers before kissing you. She walks away too quickly in your opinion, but you can't say anything because the producer is calling you next, announcing that the interview starts in two minutes. You smile at Liz before getting up.

//-//

Seven years ago.

You had just finished filming your last scene in Age of Ultron when your agent called you. Scrolling your finger quickly across the screen, you answered while your cell phone rested on the table in your dressing room, and you kept your hands busy trying to pin up your hair.

- I'm leaving the studio, Sara, what's up? - you told her.

- I wanted to congratulate you on the affair, although I'm surprised it happened so quickly. - She says and you frown in confusion, finishing up with your bun. You pick up your cell phone next.

- What are you talking about?

Sara giggles, and sends you an attachment. You pull your cell phone away from your ear to look at it. It is a photo of you and Elizabeth, your teammate and romantic partner in the franchise, taken the same day you discovered Liz had social anxiety and took her out for coffee with you to take her focus off the celebrity world for a while. The paparazzi managed to capture the exact moment when you kissed her on the cheek in farewell.

- This is all over the gossip sites as Marvel's mysterious romantic couple. - Your agent commented, and you rubbed your fingers across your forehead in irritation.

- You want me to publicly deny a relationship, is that it? - you ask, walking around the dressing room and gathering your things.

- What? No! This is great for advertising. - she says with slight excitement in her voice. - Especially after the movie comes out! Fans love couples who fall in love behind the screen.

You roll your eyes, switching your cell phone to your ear.

- I'm not going to make a relationship contract if that's what you're thinking! - You say with irritation and can imagine Sara rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

- Yes, yes, we've been over this, Miss Morally Correct. - She scoffs lightly. - But I really called to talk about the premiere. We have details to discuss.

Sighing, you ask her to wait. Then you finished putting your things away, and grabbed the phone as you walked out the door.

//-//

Six years ago, California

Interviewers can be motherfuckers when they want to be, you thought as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your face impassive as you watched the woman in front of you list the "missed moments" from the Avengers set. You knew that your agent had talked to the show's staff about the authorized questions, and yet here you were on live television, having to declare whether the timely photos taken on the Avengers set meant that you had a secret relationship with your best friend Elizabeth Olsen.

A slideshow was playing on the screen behind you. There were pictures from the footage, many where you and Liz were laughing together, or having lunch together. There were some where she was sitting on your lap, or vice versa. Your expression softened when you noticed one where she was looking at you adoringly. It was so strange to be an artist sometimes. You smiled politely at the presenter.

- Come on, Ellen, you know how these things are. - You said. - Things are different on camera, Lizzie and I are friends.

The audience let out a chorus of displeasure, and Ellen laughed lightly.

- You know that many of the fans would like this rumor to be true, especially since you two play a couple and you are openly queer. - She says, and you wiggle your fingers in your lap, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, but you nod in agreement. - Furthermore, you say that the paparazzi cameras are deceiving, but what about the stories you post on your personal networks?

She asks with a chuckle, and then other videos are playing on the screen, and you force yourself to smile and watch.

The vast majority are harmless, and platonic. You spend a lot of time at Liz's house because when she moved in, you were her reference and tour guide, and so you got into the habit of checking up on her. And then you became friends and you spent more time at her house than at yours.There were many videos and pictures on yours and her instagram where you two were tending a garden, playing board games, cooking together, or watching sports. You bit back a smile as you watched the memories through the images.

- See?It's hard to believe that this is just platonic. - Ellen insisted again, and the audience laughed. You tried to cover it up with a smile. - But since you claim to be single, we're going to play a game now. It's called "Who Would You Rather?

The audience applauded and you giggled, straightening your posture in your chair. And then the studio screen had a sign with the name of the game.

- It's very simple, you just have to choose which of the artists you would rather. - She explains, and you blink.

- Rather what?

Ellen lets out a giggle, and you understand, nodding in embarrassment. The audience laughs. The picture changes to two pictures.

- Who would you rather, Scarlett Johansson or Chris Hemsworth?

- Wow, that sounds like a trap. - You comment awkwardly, making the audience laugh. And then you bite your lips. - I think Scarlett.

Ellen gives you a suggestive look, and the audience chuckles, you force yourself to imitate them. The picture changes again.

- Scarlett or Sebastian Stan?

You laugh, smoothing your hair slightly.

- I don't know, I think Seb. - You answer. And then the picture changes again, and you want to run away when the audience gives a chorus of excitement.

- Sebastian Stan or Elizabeth Olsen?

- There it is the trap. - You comment clumsily, causing the audience to bust out laughing. You swallow dryly and look down at your lap before saying. - I'd say Elizabeth Olsen.

You played for a few more minutes, and then the game ended with you choosing Elizabeth at the end, which got the audience cheering and celebrating. When the interview was over, Sara was calling you, and you were massaging your forehead when you answered.

- I thought you said you two weren't dating. - She teased, and you grumbled in irritation.

- I thought you had discussed these matters with the staff. - You retorted, slightly irritated. - She only asked me about Lizzie and dating the entire interview.

- Honey, you're America's sweet couple. - She sneered. - Ellen wants viewers and will ask the questions that the audience wants to know.

- That's ridiculous. - You said and then sighed. - Why did you call me anyway?

- I have your new shooting location, so get your coats and jackets ready.

//-//

Six years ago, Berlin.

You are laughing at Anthony's imitation of Robert. Sitting in the shared dining hall, you were having a good time over lunch with your other colleagues while you were recording Civil War.

And then you were in scene again, many minutes later, and you found it strange that the nervousness was crossing beyond your character during a specific scene in which you were counteracting with Elizabeth.

You saw her laughing at a comment your character made, and you should have this expression of surprise and embarrassment, but you didn't even have to act it out. Your cheeks reddened naturally at the image of Liz laughing. And then the director said cut when you were done and you were rushing out to clean up your makeup.

Later that day, after the shoot was over, the team wanted to visit a local pub, and you accepted the invitation, ignoring the previous event, and smiling when Elizabeth touched your arm to get your attention.

- A toast to the Avengers! - shouted the camera crew chief when you were all gathered at the bar, you thought maybe he had had too much to drink, but you joined in the toast.

You stood next to Lizzie and Chris at a table while sipping a dark drink that might have been craft beer, or something German.

Your cell phone vibrates with a notification and you choke in surprise at the content of the message. Sara had sent you a note from TMZ, stating that your secret romance with Elizabeth Olsen was threatened because you had been seen leaving a coffee shop with Katie McGrath.

Chris and Lizzie look at you curiously, and you just lay your cell phone down on the table for them to see while you turn the entire glass of beer in your mouth.

- Wow, so your type really is super heroines. - Chris commented with a smile, and you laugh, pushing him away slightly.

- I swear, I can't be seen talking to any woman that she is automatically my girlfriend. - You say irritated as you put your beer glass back on the table. Your gaze returns to Lizzie, who has picked up your cell phone from the table and is reading the news. Then she hands the phone back to you, and gets a strange look on her face that you can't read very well, but she forces a smile.

- At least you cheated on me with a pretty girl. - she says and you frown in surprise. Chris laughs at the joke, but before you could have any other reaction, the rest of the team is joining you.

//-//

Five years ago, California.

You gave up fighting the questions about your relationship with Elizabeth. They would happen anyway, whether your agent talked to the teams or not, so you just smiled politely when you told people you were just friends and remained truthful in your statements.

Usually the interviews with Lizzie were easier, because you went into protective mode and your brain was ready to give sharp, snappy answers to keep Elizabeth from being embarrassed.

So here you were on the Night Show, with one of your favorite interviewers, and your best friend by your side. Jimmy was asking good questions, and he was funny. You hoped he wouldn't ask anything too embarrassing.

After many questions about employment, and worldview, which was refreshing, he finally asked you about the rumors of your secret relationship.

- Girls, you know that the public wants to know. - He began with a smile, and you laughed lightly, exchanging a look with Lizzie. - And actually, we have arguments this time.

- Here we go. - You commented with light irony which made the audience laugh.

Your latest posts on instagram were visible on the big screen.

- Last Tuesday, both of you posted these stories on your personal accounts. - Jimmy started with excitement. - And it rocked the internet completely, because the location was visible on your instagram, Elizabeth.

Lizzie let out an embarrassed giggle.

- Well, if the public's doubt is whether we were together there, they can confirm it. - She said, and Jimmy let out an excited exclamation. Lizzie waited for the audience to stop their celebratory chorus before speaking again. - But this was a special celebration, since it was my birthday.

- And I took her on a trip to Mexico. - You completed the story with a slight smile. The audience let out a chorus of happiness and you looked at them in confusion. - Guys, friends do this!

Jimmy and the audience laughed for a moment and then the image came off the screen.

- Come on girls, you're giving us material. - He remarked with a smile. - And you're still going to deny the relationship like you always do, I imagine.

You and Wanda exchange a short chuckle.

- Look, Jimmy, all I have to say is that Lizzie is amazing, she really is. - You saw yourself confessing. - Anyone would be lucky to date this brilliant, spectacular, sweet, fun-loving woman. But that person is not me.

Jimmy lets out an exclamation of sadness along with the audience, but then they applaud your words, and you smile wryly. You risk a glance at Lizzie for a second, and she has slightly flushed cheeks, and looks surprised at your words.

You ignore the nervous feeling at the pit of your stomach, and decide to keep your posture polite as you answer the next questions.

//-//

Four years ago.

You had to kiss Lizzie. And then you shook your head. No, not you. Vision. Your character, Vision, had to kiss Lizzie's character, Wanda Maximoff. And you repeated this like a mantra as you walked from your dressing room to the set.

The day you read this scene, you smiled politely at your agent, and disguised any apparent nervousness. And then you spent the last few weeks pretending that if you didn't think about it, eventually the director would make a change and the scene wouldn't even exist. But here you were, trying to have one last drop of professionalism.

You weren't even recording the scene officially, it was just the rehearsal of lines and marking, and you had sweaty hands.

As you walked through the studio, the staff smiled and greeted you, and then you spotted Lizzie and ignored the uneven beating of your heart.

- Let's get started girls. - announced Russo as soon as he caught sight of you. He signaled for you to follow the team's prearranged schedule. You smiled at Lizzie as you took your place. - We can test the order of the scene directly. I need to know which angle is best to have Vision ask Wanda to stay with her.

And then you started recording. And now you were Vision. There was no time to think about how naturally your hand fit into Lizzie's, or how good it felt to feel her hugging you. And then Russo shouted cut again.

- That's pretty good. - He commented, looking at the monitor. - Let's shoot the stone scene okay, then the action scene.

The scene started, and you said your lines the way you were supposed to. And then you were looking at Lizzie, and she kissed you as the script said. You held the sigh in your throat, and pulled away. Vision doesn't sigh, so you shouldn't either. And then you are smiling as written, and the director closes the scene again.

You were getting pretty good at hiding how affected you are by Lizzie the more you kiss her onstage. And then you wrap up the day's shooting, and you are mentally exhausted. You want to sleep in your dressing room, but you decide to go home.

And as you are walking back to your car, Lizzie calls out to you.

- Hey, partner. - She greets me by walking beside you. - Don't you want to go for a drink tonight?

You let out a sigh, ignoring the urge to shout that you would go anywhere with her, and thinking about how tired your body is.

- I'm exhausted, Lizzie. - You tell her, and she looks upset, but you add with a smile. - But I'll take it if it's something at your place.

Lizzie's face lights up quickly, and she nods, and then says she'll leave something in her car. She returns when you are already in yours.

- All set? - You ask to confirm, and she smiles and nods. And then you start the car and drive out of the studio.

Lizzie turns on the car stereo a moment later, and you begin humming the song.

- You've been distant lately. - She comments distractedly as you drive away. - You know you can talk to me, right?

You smile, ignoring the feeling in your stomach.

- Yes, Lizzie. - You say without taking your eyes off the road. - I'm just busy, that's all. It's nothing.

Lizzie makes a noise of agreement and looks away. You think maybe she believes you're not telling her the truth, and you feel guilty. So you decide to change the subject.

- How are things at home, Liz? Are Mary-Kate and Ashley well? - you ask, and she looks at you quickly.

- Everything's fine. - she says, and then she bites her lip. - Did I do something?

You frown, glancing quickly at her before looking down the street again. The light was red. And when you turn your head toward her, she lets out a sigh.

- You don't talk to me anymore. - She says seriously, looking at you. - Since Berlin, you're just distant. Always busy, and with ready-made answers. And now you try small talk, even though you hate it. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

Your heart is racing at the accusations, because she is absolutely right. And then you swallow dry, and prepare to speak, but then Liz is pointing ahead, the headlight has opened. And you have to drive, and she crosses her arms and looks away to the window.

You drive the rest of the way to her house in silence, and when you park the car in the driveway, she mumbles a goodnight before getting out.

Squeezing the steering wheel in your fingers, you take a deep breath. And then you get out of the car, and the noise of the door opening surprises her because she turns to look. But you are walking toward her, and raising your hand to the back of her neck, bringing your mouths together. Lizzie chokes in surprise, but in the next second she melts against you as she kisses you back.

You part breathlessly, holding your foreheads together.

- I am in love with you. - You confess. - I'm sorry I was a complete idiot, but I was terrified.

Lizzie giggles, kissing you again quickly before hugging you. And then she is breaking the embrace to look at you, a shy smile on her lips.

- I'm in love with you too. - she says. - I'm glad that's the problem and not something else.

You laugh, and kiss her one last time before entwining your hands and walking toward her house.

You decide to take things slow, so naturally, two weeks later, you ask her to be your girlfriend over dinner. Lizzie smiles all night, but you know that if this is a secret, she can't wear the ring.

Public relationships mean contracts, and agents, and unwanted questions, and lots of opinions about your lives. And you two wanted to keep that to yourselves for the time being.

So when directors comment that your onstage chemistry is amazing, you two just nod and thank them. When the interviewers ask if you are together, you deny it as before.

The first time you sleep with Lizzie, you almost break the bed. And it's all right, because you two are laughing with happiness and pleasure, and she pulls you in for another kiss. And you entwine your hands, the commitment rings on your fingers.

A year and a half later, you are getting very busy with your participation in a youth series, and there are many rumors that you are dating your co-star, so Lizzie is jealous and you can't blame her.

You decide that the secret cannot go on any longer, at least not to your friends and employers. So you talk to Lizzie, and you both call your agents. Sara laughs for ten minutes when you tell her, but she is happy to talk to Lizzie's agent. You are not public yet, but it is important that all parties are in agreement. You hate bureaucracy, but you don't mind as long as Lizzie's hand is in yours. Your friends are very happy, and the other cast members tease you constantly about it.

When you shoot the last movie, you think you are going to be fired because your character has died. But then you and Lizzie get a series together.

You try not to overthink how you will deny the rumors on television, but Lizzie kisses you on the cheek and tells you that you will face it together.

It takes three more months for you to propose. You think your chest will explode with happiness when she accepts.

And then you are calling your agents again, and Sara almost faints when you tell her that you got married in secret at some registry office in the Caribbean and she needs to get the paperwork sorted out. When you get back to California, there is a small ceremony with your family members.

//-//

Present

You and Lizzie are sitting side by side in the interview. The questions about WandaVision are over, and now you know from Jimmy's expression what he is going to say.

- The last time you were here, I had only an instagram post as an argument for your secret relationship. - He says, making you, Lizzie and the audience laugh lightly. - But now I have talked to the production and they prepare a presentation.

- My goodness. - You remark, making him laugh. And then he waves to the big screen, and you try to disguise your nervousness.

A presentation of images began to play to the audience to the sound of "honeybee" by the band "The Head and The Heart". There are several studio shots, from photo rehearsals to behind-the-scene moments. There is a picture from the day you met, from the first cast test, from the Avengers taping, paparazzi shots of you laughing in the parking lot, or in the open areas. There are pictures of you walking around Los Angeles together, pictures of your rides, or your travels. There are clippings from instagram stories where you spend time together, laughing and hugging. The presentation ends with the BTS photo of WandaVision from the first day of recording where you have your arm around Lizzie, and the two of you are laughing.

You clear your throat away the emotion, but Lizzie wipes her eyes lightly.

- That was very beautiful. - She comments as Jimmy hands her a piece of tissue paper. The audience bursts into tears of excitement.

- I guess we can get to the part where you deny everything now can't we? - Jimmy jokes and you smile and straighten your posture.

- Actually, Jimmy, we have something to announce.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #wandaxreader #wandamaximoffxreader #wandamaximoffxyou

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Memorable

Summary: the cast of Avengers: Endgame is asked to tell the most memorable thing that happened in all 10 years of filming and they all have the same thing in mind

Word count: 1.4k

Warning(s): knives, stabbing, blood (If you are not comfortable with any of this DO NOT READ)

Author's note: Why did i write this? I don't know. I just had this idea and I thought it was cool so I wrote it down. It’s not really a sebastian x reader even though i started writing it like that. I honestly don’t know what this is but here you go I guess lmao

Feedback is always appreciated and don't forget to reblog and like if you liked it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

"As we are at the end of a very long era, that was full of exciting events, what was the most memorable thing that happened on set? Out of all the movies" Jimmy asked the six of you, who were sitting on the couch. Your mind immediately went to one specific incident, that happened to you and it seems like all of your co-stars thought about the same thing as they all turned to you. You couldn't help the smile that formed on your face. "It seems like everyone has the same thing on their mind" the host pointed out, smiling.

"Yes, it looks like that" you spoke up.

"Y/N, could you tell us what it is?" he asked.

"I guess it's that one time I got a little hurt while filming Civil War." you let out a little laugh, knowing what the response would be.

"A little hurt?!" Robert almost shouted. "This girl here got stabbed with a real knife and wanted to finish her scene with the knife still in her side and she almost did if it wasn't for the other person freaking out" Jimmy's mouth hung open at that. Everyone knew you got hurt while filming, because production had to be stopped and it was all the news talked about for a few days, but no one knew the details.

"Okay. It wasn't that dramatic" you defended yourself. Robert had the tendency to oversell the scene." I just knew that I will be out of commission for a while after that so I knew I had to finish the scene." you shrugged.

"Okay, I think we need to hear the whole story" the audience screamed at Jimmy's words. You laughed at that.

"So this is how it went..."

It was one of the first days of working and you were filming the big fight scene at the airport. You were surrounded with huge green screens. Your character had a one on one fight with the Black Widow so you were getting ready for it. You almost always did your own stunts and this one wasn't an exception. It wasn't that hard either, just a couple of punches and it ended with Natasha stabbing your character. It wouldn't be fatal, but it would defenitely hurt enough to slow your character down for a while. You were streching as Scarlett's stunt double walked over to you. The others weren't in the shot so they just stood to the side. They always liked watching you in action because you were the sweetest person in real life but once you heard action it was like you were a completely different person. It was fascinating. And watching you do stunts was a spectacle in itself. You have been learning martial arts since you were a kid so it came easy for you.

"Get ready everyone, we start in a minute!" the director shouted. You smiled at Heidi, streching your neck.

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" she joked. It was always a pleasure to work with her.

"By you? Always" you said, getting into position.

"Ready?" the director shouted again, looking at you two. You both nodded" Okay. And... Action!" You immediately started thowing punches at her, following the precise choreography you learned. She blocked them well, but you still managed to land a few on her. At least that what it looked like to the camera. You slowly got closer to where the crew was standing, still fighting as hard as you could. Your enemy pulled out a knife from her belt and you jumped back as she tried to slice you. She missed a few more times and you turned so her back was to the camera, while you faced it. It was almost over, she just had to thrust the fake knife into your side and you had to act like it hurt. She lunged forward with the knife in her hand and stabbed you. You thought it would be hard to act like you just got stabbed, but it turnes out you didn't have to act at all. It hurt like hell. Why was it hurting so much? It shouldn't hurt this much. What was happening? The knife was a prop so the blade went inside the handle, but it didn't feel like that happened. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened in a silent scream. You backed away from Heidi and looked down. The knife was lodged in place and you felt something warm starting to trickle down your side. You heard a gasp from in front of you. You looked up only to see Heidi with her hands against her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. She turned around to the crew who had still no idea what was happening.

"Call an ambulance" the panic in her voice was enough to alert everyone. You put your hands on the knife, which, you finally realized, was a real one, and it was currently inside you to the hilt. You heard frantic speaking, but the words didn't register in your mind. It must be Heidi telling them what happened. Your eyes were stuck on the handle, you were unable to look away. You waited for the panic to set in, but it never came. Two legs appeared in front of you and hands touched your shoulders. You finally looked up, your vision a little blurry. Sebastian was standing in front of you, fear and panic clear in his eyes.

"Hey y/n, can you hear me? The ambulance is on it's way, they will be here any minute. You just need to hold out for a little longer, okay baby?" you didn't know if he was trying to calm you or himself down. You tried to smile at him, but it came out more like a grimace. In the frenzy of the situation neither of you realized he called you baby.

"Did the shot turn out okay? They can use it right?" you spoke and Sebastian just looked at you with wide eyes. How can you still worry about the movie right now?

"Yes it was fine, they can use it." in truth he didn't know anything about the shot, but he just wanted to keep you calm. One of the crew members brought a chair for you, but you didn't know if it was a good idea to sit down or even move from where you were standing. How your legs didn't give out yet, you didn't know, but you were glad you didn't collapse so far. You decided against sitting down. It was probably not good to move around. You grabbed Sebastian's hands and squeezed them. Him being there was giving you so much strength. Something you would tell him later, when he was sitting next to your bed while you were recovering.

In the distance you could hear the sirens of the promised ambulance. Finally. You didn't know how much longer you could keep standing.

The car stopped next to you and two paramedics jumped out to assess your situation. They brought out the bed and carefully laid you on top of it.

You had to get stiches in the hospital and you resumed filming a few weeks later when you could move around without the sharp pain in your body.

"So needless to say i couldn't do any stunts for a good while" you tried to lift the mood, that settled in the studio, with a joke. Sebastian, who was sitting beside you, snorted.

"Of course you couldn't. And I wouldn't let you either." he said.

"I think my stunt double is scarred for life because of that" you all laughed at Scarlett's comment. You talked it out with Heidi and you made sure she knew that you weren't blaming her. It turned out that the fake and real knives were mixed up and no one knew how it happened. There was an investigation, because it was way too dangerous for it to happen again and they put new safety measures in place. Nothing like that happened ever since.

"Everyone was panicking so much. I think I was the calmest person there and I was the one with a knife in my side" everyone laughed at that.

"I understand now why this is the most memorable thing that happened to you" Jimmy spoke.

"Yes we all have that memory engraved in our minds now" Chris added.

"And I have a cool scar from it too" you laughed.

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #fanfic

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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Crit bookmark anon had it mixed up on one point, the rule of thumb is that expecting authors to specify what form of feedback they prefer is rude, burdensome, ableist and so that hurts their feelings too, or that's how it's been explained to me.

Personally, I swear when I got into fanfiction around 1998 concrit was the holy grail of feedback that authors asked for with the desperation of a starving populace, but the vehemence to which people say it’s always been this way, that c+c is c+c+cruel, that authors have never needed to state their preferences, to the point of insulting me is actually beginning to trigger my psychosis and make me doubt my own memories.

It makes me nervous to even read fic anymore because I love expressing my love. People tell me they love my reviews because they're "juicy and detailed" since I do my best to put effort into picking out the parts I really loved around and the parts that confused me (if there were any). They’ll thank me for my feedback, and then they’ll say concrit is cruel actually and discourages authors, is ablist because of the possibility for rejection dysphoria, that what I did wasn’t even actually c+c but all I did was analyze their work and review using the crit sandwich. By the very definition it seems to me to be critique but I have no idea anymore!

Hell, it even makes me feel insecure as an author. Glaring mistakes get complimented, it’s like someone saying my smile is beautiful while I have a huge hunk of food in my teeth. Like I’m glad you said you liked it but are you lying to me? What are your genuine feelings? If you’re an author, why don’t you want to just post your house rules? Is it because I’m just being intrusive? They say I should ask what the house rules are to be considerate about their feelings, but treat me like as a reader I have none to be considered.

It’s got me wrung up, clearly.

I've tried to encourage people to feel safe with c+c in my comment section and other authors still get mad at me for doing it that way too because it's damaging to them as a writer because I’m doing fanfiction wrong.

Has it always been like this? Am I actually delusional? Please tell me I’m not just going crazy and you’ve been noticing this as a cultural shift too, if I’m alone in this I think I genuinely might be sicker than I thought I was.

I don't think it's a clear cultural shift in one direction, but yes, I've noticed things.

I think AO3 culture owes a lot to LJ culture and LJ culture was often less into crit because the fic was so visibly in the author's personal space. A lot of LJ authors also had circles of beta readers and good friends who were quite visible, so concrit from others was superfluous and not so helpful. At the same time, LJ being a blogging platform meant that people could rec in their own journals and include concrit in that context easily. AO3 doesn't have much of a space for meaty reviews, though you can try with bookmarks.

Meanwhile, mailing list culture was often pro-concrit, and so is FFN. Forums are often pro-concrit. Some of these are older spaces, but they're also just different spaces from AO3.

A lot of "changes" are simply a change from being used to some other space to AO3 getting so popular everyone's crowding in there. The old culture persists somewhere else.

My own view on concrit of my work is that it doesn't hurt my feelings, but I don't find it useful, so I don't think people should waste their time on it. Good concrit is hard and it takes a while to write up.

Once I post a work, it's as done as it's going to get. Many people who've critiqued me in the past have also just had bad quality advice. I've sat in (non fandom) writing groups filtering the often also very bad advice there, and it's not just ego: I have a pretty good handle on which critiquers know their stuff, and most do not. I have a couple of friends whom I let read my pro writing because they know what I'm going for, and I understand and trust their taste.

Now, if someone wants to critique my finished fic in a review, that's fine by me because even though the work is done and not getting edited again, the pros and cons are worth noting for a future reader.

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hmslusitania · 3 years

Text

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 season 5 speculation #this isn't actually speculation it's just goofy #but hey that promo exists so now it's fair game #buddie #technically anti bt #but mostly because it's a buddie ficlet #the ghost ship scribbles

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

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i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.).

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.)

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy.

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend.#why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

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tressasinterlude · 3 years

Text

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

#i’m finally done after having this sitting in the drafts for about a good month... or two. 🥴🥴#abuse apologists #pro black #activism #feminism #body posititivity #colorism #raven tracy #kehlani #rihanna #yg #asap rocky #rant #my uploads.

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Text

The Instructor Part 2

Summary: You and Agent Walker meet again

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: angst, smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

The Instructor Part 2

A month came and went.

Then six weeks.

Seven.

Eight.

Then you stopped counting.

You felt used, and grew angry. The submissive part of your nature had been taken advantage of and you swore it wouldn’t happen again. Never again would you allow your desires to be seen by any man, let alone by Agent Walker. You collect your memories of him, gather them into a box, seal it tight and bury it in the darkest corner of your mind. You don’t even bring it out on lonely nights anymore, it hurts too much.

You focus on work and fall into your new routine: wake up, work out, work late, eat take out, sleep, repeat. The days soon melted into one, weekends forgotten as the routine is the same as weekdays. Your work was repetitive and uninspiring. You were a junior Agent after all. You knew to expect a few years of grunt work before anything meaningful. You kept your head down and did what you had to do, hoping your diligence paid off and the higher ups noticed.

Despite your hard work, you were surprised when you were called into your boss’s office for a new assignment. She tells you that an opening came up on a surveillance team in the field focussed on a group of foreign nationals. She told you strictly that there would be no interaction with the group, surveillance only. You agree to the new posting, thankful for the break in monotony and chance to develop your skills.

“Just a moment, here is the lead Agent now.” She says.

You turn as the door opens and Agent Walker strolls in, his clipped yet casual gait doesn’t falter as he notices you. A lump rises in your throat as you see him for the first time in months. You don’t know how to feel, but your body reacts. With a pounding heart and clenching stomach, you keep your features smooth as possible, allowing the smallest hint of a smile to widen your lips. An appropriate response to seeing your old instructor, nothing more, nothing less. His eyes flicker with recognition, his small smile and nod was just as appropriate. He says to your boss, “Is this the addition to the team?”

“Do you two know each other?”

You don’t deny it. You’re not stupid enough to believe your boss doesn’t know every Agent you’ve ever interacted with so you say, “Of course, Agent Walker was one of my instructors at The Farm.” Boldly you continue speaking more for Walker’s benefit than your boss, “But I haven’t seen him in… what is it Agent? Four months?”

“Four and a half,” he replies, with a tilt of the head.

“Four and a half,” you repeat. Like bile rising in your throat, anger fills you and for a moment you know he sees it. Forcing the rising tide of fury down you say, “Well, time flies when you’re having fun.” You bare your teeth at him in what you hope your boss takes as a smile and Walker takes for the ‘fuck you’ it was. Walker narrows his eyes at you then turns his attention to your boss.

You discuss more details of the case and travel arrangements then you are dismissed. Leaving the two of them together you tidy your desk of personal belongings since you didn’t know when or if you would return and go home to prepare.

Once you are through the gates of Langley and no longer under direct video surveillance you start to shake. Seeing him again rocked you to your core you hoped you hadn’t given anything away with your comments. Was it a coincidence that you were promoted and put in his team or had he asked for you? Neither Walker or your boss had given anything away. No time to think about it now, you had packing to do and less than two hours to get to the airbase where you would be sent to DC for the job.

You showered quickly, resisting the urge to release some of the growing tension in your gut. You hadn’t touched yourself in months and you wouldn’t start now.

Trying to push thoughts of Agent Walker from your mind was a futile task. Instead you focussed on keeping your anger raw so you wouldn’t fall under his spell again. You had accepted that he wasn’t coming back. Did he have a knack for that? Only showing himself to you when you had moved on. You wouldn’t let him take you easily this time, this time he would not get satisfaction, not after what he had done. You shake your head, ‘this time’ you say, recognising the lies you tell yourself.

You start to get dressed when you hear a short rap on the door. Fuck, the car had arrived early. You pull a robe on as you answer the door, to let the driver know you’ll be a few more minutes.

Throwing the door wide, you’re greeted by Agent Walker, his face firm, furrowed brows looking you up and down. The collar of his dark woollen coat is pulled up, framing his face drawing your attention to his piercing stare. Frozen for a moment, you can do nothing but return his gaze. You’re a deer in headlights until he sucks his lower lip into his mouth and your body is propelled into action.

You slam the door closed, but he is quicker than you, a huge paw catching it and he forces his way into your apartment. You back away, but he kicks the door closed behind him and advances, with predatorily confident and rapid steps.

He catches your throat and brings you to him. He skin is rough with unshaven hair that is yet to grow soft. His lips are so smooth and warm, that you can’t help but melt into him. You hate him.

When he pulls away, he smiles at you almost sweetly and you can’t help the hand that flies on its own and makes a loud crack as it hits Walkers cheek.

You’re both stunned. Walker tongues his cheek and works his jaw a moment. “I hope you enjoyed that, pet. The first one is free, but the next one will come at a price.” He doesn’t seem angry, in fact his tone suggests amusement, which only fuels your rage.

“Get out,” you say. You try and keep your voice steady, but you know it warbled with fear as you looked into his eyes.

“No,” Walker says. He casually removes his coat folding it neatly and laying it over the back of your dining chair. He removes his scarf, placing it on top of his coat before he unbuttons his dark brown suit jacket and loosens his tie. You watch him, mind fixated on each of his careful movements. As if he were performing burlesque show, each minute act became a piece of seduction.

He sits in another chair and pats his lap, “Come, pet.” He calls to you in his gentle authoritative voice.

Before you can stop yourself, you take a step towards him. But then you notice his smirk, and you shrink away. You can’t speak but you shake your head as you retreat towards your bedroom.

Walker starts to look irritated and his voice gains a hard edge that both terrifies you and thrills you. “Come. Here,” he repeats. “I won’t say it again, pet.”

“Fuck you, Walker,” you spit out, your anger spilling from you, becoming a torrent as you wrestle within yourself.

He peers at you with his contemplating blue eyes. Then he sighs and moves before you can even register his actions. You turn, to run, but he is quicker and stronger. But more than that, his desire to have you is stronger than your desire to run.

His vice like arms trap you as he forces you against the wall, his body pressing into your back. “Why do you fight me, pet?” His voice rumbles into your ear. “I thought we had an understanding.”

Your tears came then, the rejection you felt was no longer able to be contained. That box of memories, buried for months smashes apart and so does your control. “You left me,” you sob. “You used me then left me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, ashamed at how quickly you relented and told him anything. You laugh at yourself, why did you believe even for a second you could hide anything from him? The only man who saw into your very soul.

“I know, pet,” Walker drones, his lips caressing your ear as he does. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

“I know,” you reply.

His hand is in your hair, smoothing the strands away from your face. His tender touch was unexpected but welcome. You feel soft kisses on your eye lids and you slowly stop crying. His tongue comes out, licking at your wet cheeks and you hear his breathing shudder as he laps up your pain.

You open your eyes, he growls as your shining eyes meet his. He plants a foot between your legs forcing them apart while he undoes his belt and pants and you hear them crumple to the floor. His hand tilts your hips back for him while the other pulls aside your underwear as he roughly explores your centre, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You hear a muttered, “Fuck,” as his finger enters you, circling your walls, stretching you before a second enters. “Fuck, pet. Have you touched yourself at all since I fucked you?”

Unsure of what he would think, you reply hesitantly, “No. You said I was yours.”

Walkers features soften as he says, “I knew you were a good girl.” Your whole body bursts into flames and your core clenches around his thick, thrashing fingers as you hear his whispered praise.

With precise and sudden movements, his fingers are withdrawn and his broad, leviathan cock bludgeons into you. Biting down on your lips to supress the cry growing in your throat you savour the feeling of being torn apart. Wasting no time, Walker moves with vicious, aggressive speed, wounding you with his thrusts, ripping apart your defences.

Pulling down your robe, he exposes your chest. His wanton hands knead your breasts as he uses them for leverage, his pounding never stops. You hear his breaths primal and raw as he assaults your neck with his mouth and teeth. He moves his depraved mouth to your shoulders sinking his teeth in deep. The pain feels like a caress when you are this close to the edge.

Walker turns you around, lifts your leg to his hip as he enters you again. His eyes are clinical as he studies your reaction. You feel boneless under his scrutiny and close your eyes again looking away. Walker grips your throat in his hand and uses his long fingers to push your cheek back in his direction.

“Open your eyes, pet,” he orders. “I know you’re close. I want to see your eyes when you call my name.”

The pressure builds deep within your gut as you keep your eyes glued to his. His breath, warm and minty with a hint of gin maybe, tickles at your cheek. You want to kiss him, taste him, feel his tongue invade you and devour you. You silently beg him to and as if hearing your thoughts, he slowly moves his mouth to yours. His eyes stay open as he flicks his tongue over your lips before taking your lower lip between his teeth.

Like a taut elastic, your core grows tighter and your knee gives out as the rush of warmth whips through your body. He lets go of your lip in time for you to shout “August!”

Your body pulses and your tightening muscles strain with contractions until you feel all the tension fall away. Like a rag doll you slump against him. But he isn’t finished with you.

Walker lifts your lulling head with a firm thumb under your chin, He continues his frenzied thrusts with a new vigour having succeeded in his task. He fucks your listless body, you’re too spent to move, and he doesn’t care. With a stuttering final thrust he pushes deep into you, clenching his teeth, whiskered lip raised in a snarl as he growls with his final throes.

He raised his hand to your face, his thumb laying a single burning caress down your tear stained cheek. “Go wash up, I’ll pack for you,” he says before pulling away and doing up his pants.

You shower again, consciously cleaning August’s seed spilling slowly from your ruined core. Each time you think you’re clean, you feel more leaking from you and you wash again. The bathroom door opens and August enters making a show of looking at his watch.

You sigh, and turn the shower off. His eyes inspect your body as he hands you a towel. He makes no effort to leave as he watches you towel off and you awkwardly squeeze past him as you make your way to your bedroom. He has laid an outfit on your bed, complete with underwear and shoes. Your gun is on your bed in its holster with spare clips by its side. You don’t say anything to him and dress in the clothes he chose and slipped your holster onto your belt, pocketing the spare clips.

Walker is waiting at the door with your overnight bag in his hand. You give the apartment a quick look over, making sure everything is turned off and sling your handbag over your shoulder. August opens the door for you, and as you slip past him his arm wraps around your waist and he kisses you.

The deep demanding kiss you wanted earlier was nothing compared to this, his lips were bruising and hard, but his tongue explored your mouth with a soft insistence. Your hands were free and for the first time, you touched him, laying a hesitant hand on his chest, and another on his neck. His skin felt hot under yours and testing his limits you slid your fingers into his hair and were rewarded with a barely audible groan.

Then he pulled his head away with a jerk and without looking at you said, “Go to the car. You’re making us late.”

Disappointed but not surprised you went to the car wondering where this assignment would take the two of you.

Part 3

Tag List

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x you #henry cavill #mission impossible fallout #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction

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stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

#129 days #Sapnap smau #sapnap x reader #smau #social media au #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #mcyt smau #sapnap series #sapnap fluff #mcyt x reader

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

Text

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

#team buccerati #team buccellati #bruno buccerati x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno buccerati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #guido mista #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirga #narancia ghirga x reader #pannacotta fugo #pannacotta fugo x reader #trish una #trish una x reader

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