#and now the nice guy from the apartments notices and she desperately avoids this conversation (unsuccessfully) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Singer – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 7,970

Warning: Lots of Smut, Some Swearing

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee @cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @chocolatehalo

***Drinks and Secrets***

Seven days after your last encounter with Kurt, you finally had his desk delivered back to his office which was located at the Dublin theatre and music district at the back building of a large venue.

Next to his office were several recording studios which meant that, whilst you were recording your new album, you saw him more frequently than you would have hoped.

In addition to working on your new album, you were working on an advertising campaign for the upcoming arts and music festival. As part of this campaign, you were recording a song with Amanda and another Dublin artist named Jeremy who gained a lot of popularity lately.

He was a nice man, in his late thirties who had a lot to offer. He played several instruments and it was easy to work with him and Amanda, at least until Amanda tried to organise a date between you and Jeremy.

She told you about it over some drinks on a Friday afternoon following a day at the recording studio.

‘I have two tickets to see the new play at the Abbey. I was going to see it with Cillian but, since we broke up, this isn’t going to happen. I thought that, perhaps, you could go with Jeremy’ Amanda said with a big grin on her face as she handed you a pint of Guinness.

‘Jeremy? Why would I go with Jeremy?’ you laughed, somewhat surprised by Amanda’s suggestion.

‘He is handsome, a real gentleman, funny and defiantly not a douche like Kurt. Despite, you said that you liked older and more mature guys’ Amanda laughed.

‘Well, perhaps you should ask him out yourself then?’ you giggled, causing Amanda to sigh.

‘I am not ready to date anyone Y/N. In fact, I don’t know if I am over Cillian yet’ Amanda said somewhat disappointed, causing you to take in a deep breath as you thought about your recent encounter with Cillian.

You were overrun with guilt as Amanda continued on, talking about her breakup with Cillian. You knew that you shouldn’t have slept with him, but then again, you didn’t know that you and Amanda would be working together again until three days ago when one of the other musicians dropped out of the project.

‘So, do you think you will give it another chance?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t think so. I think he made up his mind. To be honest, I don’t know if I still have feelings for him or if I just miss the sex’ Amanda laughed just before she ordered another drink.

‘Right…that good, eh?’ you said as your face turned red almost immediately. Of course, you knew the answer to your own question.

‘That’s probably too much information, I am sorry. The beer is getting to my head’ Amanda said with some embarrassment.

‘It’s fine, seriously’ you responded before telling Amanda a little bit about your relationship with Kurt.

In turn, after Amanda had more beers, you learned that Cillian liked to take control in the bedroom and you weren’t surprised about this in the slightest, thinking back to the night at your apartment where he took you over Kurt’s study desk. The same study desk that was now in Kurt’s office once again. The thought of it made you giggle internally.

But then, the conversation changed and became more serious when Amanda told you the real reasons behind their recent break up. She believed that she was at fault, pushing him away slowly over time with her jealousy and trust issues, trying to prevent him from socialising and leaving him no space for himself. She accused him of cheating several times but later found out that there was nothing behind the rumours. Cillian eventually had enough of her antics and broke it off again.

‘Oh my god, I am sorry. I usually don’t drink’ Amanda said as she observed your facial expression when she continued to talk about Cillian. She was certainly more direct and open about her sex life than you had hoped.

‘I think I should get you home’ you said with a warm smile, feeling a sense of responsibility, and Amanda nodded in agreement.

Since you only had two beers over two hours, unlike Amanda who had at least six or seven, maybe more, you were still able to drive and you helped Amanda to your car, hoping that press wouldn’t notice her state. After all, she had quite a following herself.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s house which was where she was still living at the time as the settlement of her property was delayed.

Supporting her, you walked towards the front door and rang the doorbell. Within a minute, Cillian opened and couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw you with his completely drunk ex-girlfriend.

‘Hi’ Cillian said somewhat surprised as he took hold of Amanda. She barely managed to walk by herself.

‘Hi’ you said, your eyes avoiding his.

‘Uhm, thank you…’ Cillian chuckled, not knowing what else to say to you, before asking you whether you wanted to come inside.

‘I would love to use your bathroom, if I could’ you laughed as you had to pull over earlier when Amanda got sick and your clothes smelled like vomit.

‘Sure, common in’ Cillian said just before he pointed you to the bathroom and helped Amanda getting out of her vomit-stained clothes.

You left the bathroom door open slightly as you cleaned yourself up and observed Cillian getting a bucket from the laundry before telling Amanda to have a rest.

After he helped her to lie down, placing the bucket next to the bed, he came into the bathroom to speak to you. He left the bedroom door open slightly so that he could hear if Amanda was getting sick, worried that she might miss the bucket in her state.

‘What happened? It’s only 6 o’clock’ Cillian asked almost amused.

‘She just kept drinking Cilly…I don’t know’ you said with a chuckle as you tried to wash the vomit out of your expensive vintage blouse.

‘Beer?’ he asked curiously, causing you to nod.

‘Fuck. I am in for an interesting evening then’ Cillian said somewhat irritated, causing you to laugh out loud.

‘So am I because I meant to see my sister and her husband for dinner at 7 o’clock and I smell like puke now’ you giggled, seeing the humour in all of this.

‘Have a shower here. I will get you a clean t-shirt’ Cillian suggested and you accepted his offer gratefully.

A minute later, Cillian gave you a towel and one of his black t-shirts. You closed the bathroom door behind you and got undressed.

When you stepped into the shower, you were slightly confused by all of the buttons. You never saw anything quite like this. You pressed one of the buttons and nothing happened. Then you pressed the next and, finally, water came rushing out from the top like waterfall but, it was cold.

‘Dammit’ you said loudly as the cold water came rushing down over your body, barely managing to wash away the little bit of soap you had placed on your chest and breasts earlier.

‘Having problems with the shower?’ Cillian asked from outside the bathroom door a few seconds after he heard you yell.

‘There is no hot water’ you said as you stepped out of the shower, wrapped the towel around you and opened the door.

Cillian stepped inside, gazing over your semi naked body for a second or two, before turning on the shower for you.

‘Wow, that’s high tech’ you giggled as you stood right next to Cillian, his body awfully close to yours.

‘Isn’t that usually how you young people roll?’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to give him a slight nudge and, in the process of it, loosing hold of your towel on one side.

Cillian noticed immediately and his jaw dropped as he drew a deep breath.

‘Cillian?’ you whispered as you noticed him looking at the ceiling, purposely trying to avoid eye contact with you.

‘Yeah’ he said with a low voice as he looked back at you but, instead of saying anything else to him, you pressed your lips onto his tentatively.

Cillian gave into the kiss and parted your lips with his slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth in order to meet yours.

Your hands reached for his cheeks and the back of his head while your towel dropped to the floor.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this Y/N’ Cillian whispered as your lips drifted apart after what seemed like an eternity.

‘No, we shouldn’t’ you responded despite the fact that you wanted him, right then and there.

But, his lips landed on yours again almost instantly, ignoring the interfering thoughts in your heads.

As you were kissing, Cillian’s hand wandered over the back of your body and then in between you, immediately finding your wet mound.

You let out a low moan as his fingers began to gently massage your clit before one of his fingers dipped inside of you momentarily.

On your left upper thigh, you could feel his erection press against you, restricted by his tight and ripped jeans.

You pushed your mound against his hand as much as you could while he swallowed up your moans, continuing to kiss you passionately.

But, as he began to apply more pressure against your clit, you had to pull away from his mouth and moan escaped you.

His speed increased and you let your head fall forward against his chest and shoulder, taking in the scent of his aftershave and moaning into the thin black cotton of his t-shirt.

Your legs began to quiver within minutes and his magical fingers on your clit brought you over the edge fairly quickly.

You held onto Cillian, continuing to moan against his chest as your orgasm washed over you and he finally slowed down his movements.

‘Fuck’ you whispered as Cillian chuckled at the fact that he just made you cum within less than five minutes.

‘You should have a shower now or you’ll be late for dinner’ Cillian winked before pressing his lips onto yours again.

‘What about you?’ you asked quietly as you ran your hand over his crotch.

‘I better check on Amanda’ he said somewhat reluctantly before leaving you by yourself in the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you got dressed and returned to the living room where Cillian was sitting, watching a documentary.

When you approached him to give him a kiss, he pulled away.

‘We cannot keep doing this Y/N’ Cillian said quietly and it was obvious to you that he had been doing a lot of thinking while you were in the shower.

‘You are right’ you murmured, upset by his response.

‘Are we okay?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘Thanks for the shower’ you said a little upset before grabbing your keys and phone and returning to your car.

***Family***

Later that evening, at dinner with your sister and her husband, your sister asked you about your music projects and, of course, your love life.

She knew that you had separated from Kurt and, even though you called it a break, it was obvious to her and anyone from your family that this was final.

She was glad that it was over. Finally, you were free from him.

When she asked you if there was anyone else, you couldn’t help it but tell her about Cillian. But you didn’t tell her his name, nor did you tell her how you had met.

All that you told her was that there was a man who you had slept with and who you think you might like and this was the first time that you admitted your feelings for Cillian to yourself as well.

It felt strange to you as, initially, when you met Cillian, you couldn’t stand him but now that you got to know each other more intimately, this changed.

When you told your sister that he was 43, making him exactly twenty years older than you, her jaw dropped.

‘Forget about him Y/N. Honestly’ she told you, thinking that he was too old for you and the press would rip you to pieces about it, just as it happened with your ex-girlfriend which emotionally destroyed you at the time.

‘I’ve grown since then, emotionally and mentally and I cannot help it. His presence does something to me and, currently, I work with him all the time’ you said with a deep sigh.

‘Is he a musician?’ your sister asked curiously and you shook your head.

‘He’s an actor’ you admitted but went no further than that regardless of how much your sister was poking around, asking you for his name.

‘It doesn’t matter because it isn’t going anywhere with us and you are right, it’s probably better that way’ you said when she asked you for his name for the third time.

Your sister gave up eventually and, after several glasses of wine, you decided to stay at her house for the night before a big day at the studio finalising the schedule for the music festival.

The next morning, when you tried to start your car, the engine had stopped working. It was a brand-new car and you were extremely irritated and contacted the car dealer immediately.

The car dealer advised you that they couldn’t get the car in for repair until Monday and your sister luckily offered to drive you into Dublin city.

‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ she asked as she pulled up in front of the studio and nodded. You still had twenty minutes before your meeting with Cillian and Kurt.

You sat down at a booth table in the small café beneath the theatre and the waitress was quick to take your order and bring you some water.

‘The coffee here is really good’ you said to your sister but she seemed somewhat distant and unresponsive.

‘June? Are you with me?’ you chuckled and, suddenly she looked at you with wide open eyes and whispered ‘Cillian Murphy’.

‘What about him?’ you asked absolutely flustered.

‘Over there, at the counter’ your sister then whispered with excitement, causing you to take in a deep breath. He wasn’t the person who you wanted to see right at this moment, especially after what you told your sister last night.

‘He is my cheat pass’ your sister then said, causing you to inadvertently spit out some of the water in your mouth.

‘You are joking?’ you asked, causing your sister to shake her head and continue to stare at him.

‘I am going to say hello’ she said determined and you took her hand quickly and responded ‘no you are not’ which was when Cillian noticed you and walked over towards your table.

‘Morning Y/N’ he said with a smile before giving you a friendly kiss on the cheek.

‘Hi Cilly’ you said before introducing him to your sister with some embarrassment.

Your sister was quick to move to one side, indicating for Cillian to sit down next to her and he didn’t think anything of it and joined you both for coffees and a snack to eat.

The three of you engaged in some small talk and Cillian informed you that Kurt had called him earlier that day telling him that he was sick and wouldn’t be coming in.

You were glad about it in a way but it also meant that it was just you and Cillian working on the schedule which might be a problem after last night.

After you drank your coffees and engaged in some more conversation, each of you went your separate ways. Cillian and you had a days’ work ahead of you and your sister had to get back home.

A few minutes after you left the café, you got a test message from your sister. ‘Fuck he’s hot. Can you invite him for drinks with me or something’ it said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Cillian asked as he observed your facial expressions and small giggles.

‘Nothing’ you responded before putting your phone away, ignoring your sister’s text message.

***Working Together***

The day went by quickly and you managed to be quite productive, finishing the schedule for the festival by 4 o’clock. There was no arguing anymore between you and Cillian and, with Kurt not being there, there was also no shouting.

As you were working together, you and Cillian kept your distance from each other, trying as hard as you could to stay focused and professional.

You sent the schedule off to Kurt for consideration and communication to the artists and Cillian offered you to drive you home after you told him about your car.

You agreed reluctantly as it was raining but all of your focus and professionalism went out of the window as soon as Cillian pulled up in front of your apartment.

‘Uhm, would you like to come up for a drink?’ you asked, knowing exactly that you shouldn’t have asked him that after last night.

‘I shouldn’t’ Cillian responded reluctantly. He knew he couldn’t get involved with you again. Another relationship was not what he wanted, especially not with someone as young as you.

‘I know, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s fine. Thank you for driving me home. Have a good night’ you said before giving him a friendly kiss on his cheek before getting out of his car.

As you reached the front door of your apartment building and searched through your bag for the key, you heard the door of Cillian’s car close.

You looked back and saw Cillian approach you with a hesitant smile.

‘Changed your mind?’ you smirked as he walked up the pathway leading to the front door of your apartment block.

‘Yeah, I suppose’ Cillian smiled with his hands in his pockets like a shy schoolboy while he was waiting for you to open the door.

You finally found your key and you both took the elevator up to your apartment, keeping your distance from each other.

You opened the door to your apartment and Cillian followed you inside almost shyly, remaining standing in the doorway and asking ‘before I do anything stupid, it isn’t really a drink that you are after, right?’

‘No. In fact, all I’ve got is tap water’ you said almost embarrassed and, just after you did, you found yourself pinned against the wall and Cillian crashed his lips onto yours in a haste.

You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore yours in a passionate kiss.

With one foot, you pushed your apartment door closed behind you before you gave into the Cillian completely.

‘Not fire safety compliant’ Cillian murmured as your lips drifted apart, causing you to look at him with some confusion.

‘The door. It’s opening into the wrong direction’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to raise your eyebrows and start to laugh.

‘You are weird’ you chuckled before you pressed your lips back onto his, thinking why on earth he would have noticed this in the heat of the moment.

‘Coming from the woman with a Harry Potter tattoo beneath her left breast’ Cillian chuckled after your lips drifted apart again momentarily and he began to unbutton your mustard-coloured vintage shirt.

‘What can I say…I am magic’ you chuckled before you pulled him closer again for another kiss.

Each and every kiss was passionate and urgent, full of desire for each other.

‘Didn’t we say we wouldn’t do this again?’ you asked as your shirt landed on the floor.

‘You are the one who initiated it by asking me upstairs for a glass of tap water’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Do you want to stop?’ he then asked, causing you to shake your head and pull his t-shirt over his head exposing his bare chest.

‘Didn’t think so’ Cillian smirked before he trailed kisses over your breasts, which were still covered by a black lace bra, and then all the way down to your stomach. He dropped to his knees slowly while his lips explored your body and his hands began to fondle with the button and zipper of your jeans, pushing them down gently.

You let out a soft moan as his hands ran over the front of your treasure. His face was awfully close to your most intimate area and you could feel his hot breath on your wet mound, fanning through the lace of your panties.

With your jeans stuck over your ankles, Cillian pushed your legs apart with his hands as wide as he could.

‘Don’t move’ he instructed, causing you to take in a sharp inhale and, just as you did, he hooked the index fingers of both of his hands into the hem of your panties and pulled them down all the way to your ankles.

You wanted to push your legs together, feeling vulnerable now that he got such a close look at your wet mound. But, Cillian’s hands wouldn’t allow as he held your thighs in place while pushing you all the way back at the freshly painted wall of your apartment.

Cillian then moved to your inner thighs and his soft, wet tongue administered little licks, alternating with kisses, as he moved back and forth between your left and right thigh, ascending higher and higher as he did.

‘Hmm….fuck’ you moaned in anticipation, causing Cillian to smile against the flesh of your right thigh before looking up at you for a brief moment, his blue eyes meeting yours.

You bit your lip suggestively and then watched as that pink, wet, soft tongue of his slid out of his mouth in a flattened state and land on the right outer lip of your wet mound.

A loud moan escaped you as soon as his tongue moved closer towards your centre, giving your slit a very long, very slow, torturous lick.

You placed your hands on his head and ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue licked up and down before sinking it into your entrance once slightly, making you squirm.

‘Hold still’ he instructed as he pushed your thighs apart again with his hands.

With both outer lips equally swollen, you watched as he made his tongue pointed again, spreads your swollen outer lips and then licks both of your inner lips from back to front at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. He then ran his tongue over your clit hood and gently pulled the hood back, revealing your swollen, throbbing, pulsing clit.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as he continued to lick you. He took his time, slowly licking all of the surfaces of your clit.

Unlike most men you've been with, he knew what he was doing and you soon began to shudder and shake as he covered this territory.

After as little as ten minutes, you could feel yourself getting close to your high.

‘Cillian, don’t fucking stop’ you moaned as your hands held onto his head firmly as he continued to suck on your clit gently.

Your orgasm washed over you almost instantly and you lost all of your self-control while Cillian kept pushing your legs apart with his hands and stimulating your clit with his mouth.

Your legs wanted to give way shortly after you came down from your high and Cillian got off his knees quickly before pressing his lips onto yours in a haste, wanting you to taste your own juices that had pooled across his lips.

You moaned into his mouth while your hand reached between the both of you, running over his erection which was trapped beneath his tight jeans.

‘I am not done yet’ Cillian said as he moved your hand away from his crotch and pinned you back against the wall, kissing you again passionately.

While he was kissing you, he ran his hand over your wet mound, collecting your wet juices with his fingers before bring his finger up to your mouth.

You took his fingers into your mouth, licking them suggestively until he pulls them away from your mouth again.

Without words, his blue eyes starred into yours, full of want and desire and, without you noticing, his hand returned back in between your legs where he now, effortlessly, slid both of his fingers into your warmth.

You let out a loud moan, while Cillian looked at you, taking in your facial expressions. His lips were parted slightly as he observed your moans and you leaned forward to kiss him, but he wouldn’t allow it.

Within a few seconds, he found the magic spot inside of you and proceeded to tease it with his fingertips.

‘Holy Fucking Christ’ you screamed in shock. No one, not even yourself, had found this spot before and your legs were ready to give in right then and there.

‘Oh my god, stop…I mean don’t stop. Fuck, this is intense’ you said with laboured breathing as you starred at Cillian who responded with a satisfied grin.

‘Just relax and let go’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours.

The pressure he used was gentle at first until he could feel you relax, which is when he increased his movements. You were already wet but, when his fingers massaged your g-spot, you began dripping on to the dark wooden floor.

‘Cillian, fuck fuck fuck, oh god’ you moaned as you felt a sensation you never felt run through your body. It was more intense than anything else you had ever experienced and, without being able to control yourself, you screamed loudly as your walls began to tighten around his fingers.

‘That’s it baby’ Cillian said as he watched your eyes close shut and listened to your loud moans while another orgasm washed over you.

As he did, he could feel a gush of wetness run over his hand and down to the floor, But you didn’t notice, you were in a trance, your legs were shaking by that point and you were entirely consumed by the most intense orgasm you ever had.

As you came down from your high, the wall behind you preventing you from collapsing to the floor, you looked at Cillian in disbelieve before noticing the puddle of clear liquid that had formed on the floor.

Cillian grinned, his tongue running over his lips suggestively as he watched your embarrassment.

‘Oh my god, what the fuck. This never happened before’ you said somewhat embarrassed when you noticed the puddle.

‘I am good then’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours and wiped his hand on his jeans.

‘I am so sorry’ you said as your lips drifted apart, your mind filled with embarrassment about the mess you just made.

‘For this? Don’t be ridiculous’ Cillian said before kissing you again. ‘In fact, I think it’s sexy’ he added after your lips drifted apart.

‘Would you like to break in my new bed?’ you smirked as you took off the remainder of your clothes and indicating to Cillian to follow you.

‘It would be my pleasure’ Cillian smirked before he quickly kicked off his shoes and picked you up, remembering the location well from the last time he visited you.

As he held you against him and walked, you could feel his hardness pressing into you through his jeans and throbbing against your wet and naked mound.

He carried you to your bed and, with one swift movement, you found yourself with your back on the mattress.

As he took off his jeans and briefs all at the same time, Cillian couldn’t help but stare at your naked beauty, right there in front of him.

You could see his body respond as his hard member twitched and a few drops of precum escaped and fell to your bedroom floor.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to join you on the bed, hoovering over you and planting kisses over your body before meeting your lips again.

Then your lips were sucking and nibbling on his as he pulled away after each kiss, teasing you and occasionally your tongues would meet and fight each other.

No one ever kissed you quite like he did. It was intense and full of desire. Each kiss was different, new and exciting.

After your lips drifted apart again and while Cillian once more tried to take control, directing you to the position he wanted you in, you pushed him beneath you instead, catching him by surprise.

‘Do you have condoms?’ you asked as he was lying beneath you, thinking that you should have thought about this much earlier.

‘What happened to the ones from last time?’ Cillian asked as his hands continued to trail over your body, paying particular attention to your breasts.

‘They are in Kurt’s desk which is now in Kurt’s office’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I can get dressed and walk to the shop. It isn’t far’ Cillian suggested before letting out a deep sigh knowing that his erection would defiantly not come down if he had to walk to the shops.

‘I am on birth control and, after Kurt, I just had all of my check-ups done’ you said, causing Cillian to nod in agreement before trying to take charge once again. But you wouldn’t budge and held him down against the bed playfully.

‘You really don’t like to give up control, do you?’ you grinned, causing Cillian to respond with a quiet chuckle.

‘No, but I am willing to try if you manage to tame me’ he winked jokingly before trying to pull you closer for another kiss.

‘I think I might just have the right thing for you Mr Murphy’ you grinned as you pulled away and reached for your bedside table.

From your bedside table, you pulled out a pair of leather handcuffs and held them up suggestively.

‘Do I get to use them on you some time?’ Cillian chuckled before he willingly put his hands above his head, ready for you to tie him against the metal frame of your bedhead.

‘Maybe’ you smirked as you secured the cuffs against his wrists and the bedhead, leaving him completely at your mercy.

By this time, the windows of your bedroom had become foggy, with precipitation running down the inside of them and the room was starting to smell like two people in heat, lust filling the air.

With Cillian’s wrists tied to the bedhead, you were now the one who hoovered over Cillian, planting kisses over him and rubbing your wet folds over his upper thighs suggestively. Random drops of his precum were caught by your skin and you got intermittent glimpses of his cock, still rigid this whole time.

He hated and loved the way you were teasing him all at the same time until, finally, you made your descent over his perfectly shaped chest and stomach and all the way down towards his hard member.

Cillian inhaled sharply as he watched you lick his precum of his cockhead, using your tongue only.

He pulled on his restraints, desperate for you to take his rigid member into your mouth as you continued to tease him with only small licks.

‘Patience’ you whispered before, finally, you took all of him deep into your mouth, making him groan loudly as he bottomed out in your throat.

Whilst your hands paid attention to his balls, you began to bob your head up and down before taking his hard shaft into one of your hands and licking around his tip only.

After about ten minutes, Cillian’s breathing soon became laboured and you knew that he was getting close as you could feel his cock pulsate inside your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned until, eventually, your motions came to a halt and you shifted your body back up towards his until your lips met his once again.

While you exchanged a passionate kiss, you swung one leg over Cillian’s waist and reached between you, holding his hard shaft and carefully guiding it inside you.

‘Jesus’ was all that escaped him after your lips drifted apart and you lowered yourself onto him, taking inch by inch of his cock inside of you until you sat flush against him.

‘Hmm yes’ you moaned as you could feel all of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you completely.

‘Fuck you feel good’ Cillian moaned, trying to pull against his restraints in order to touch you. But his efforts were futile.

His warm cock felt amazing inside you and, once you adjusted to his size, you began to move, up and down, backwards and forwards.

You flicked your head back, riding him fast and hard. His breath was laboured and it was obvious to you that he was enjoying it, no longer trying to get out of his restraints.

‘God damn Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he watched your breasts bounce slightly up and down with every movement and it wasn’t long until your fingernails dug down into his chest, leaving some visible marks.

‘Come inside me’ you moaned, turned on by the thought of it and this was all he needed to hear in order to let go completely.

‘I am so fucking close’ you moaned and Cillian groaned in sync with you as he tried to thrust back up into you despite the restraints.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned again, his cock beginning to throb inside of you and, just as he groaned once last time, you screamed his name as your third orgasm washed over you.

Cillian and you came together, in sync, and your walls contracted just as he filled you with his warm cum.

After you rode out your orgasm, you slowly uncuffed him before lifting your body up slowly, allowing his cock to slide out of you.

You could feel his cum leak from your core and down your thigh as you got up.

‘Oh wow’ you grinned sheepishly as you noticed the large amount of cum on your core and thigh.

‘Yeah sorry, it’s been like a week’ Cillian chuckled but you didn’t mind at all and collected some of it with your finger. You brought your finger to your mouth, licking it suggestively.

Your actions caused Cillian to raise his eyebrows and stare at you in disbelieve.

‘Well, I wanted to see what you taste like’ you smirked before you collapsed next to him.

You curled up against Cillian’s chest while he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently tracing over your back.

You pulled the sheets over you, feeling the cold air passing through the room, the heat of Cillian’s naked body radiating to yours.

‘I don’t really want to get up’ Cillian said, half covered by your sheets, starring at you with his deep blue eyes.

‘Then don’t. Stay here tonight’ you smiled before pulling him close for another kiss.

‘It’s only 8 o’clock Y/N. I probably should go’ Cillian said, causing you to pout.

‘I could order some chinese and a bottle of wine…we can watch a movie and then we can fuck again’ you suggested, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I didn’t think that you could handle any more’ Cillian chuckled as he could see the exhaustion on your face.

‘Oh trust me, I can’ you said.

Cillian reluctantly agreed and you got up from beneath the sheets to get your phone to place the order.

Luckily, your apartment was a loft style studio penthouse and your large bed was in the middle of the large room, right in front of your flat screen TV.

‘What do you want to watch?’ Cillian asked as he flicked through the movies on Netflix and you finally agreed on a scary movie you had heard about from your sister.

But, neither of you paid much attention to the rather horrible movie. You enjoyed your chinese food and wine and joked, talked about almost anything and everything until, finally, the credits came on.

‘That was terrible’ Cillian laughed and you agreed and apologised for your choice of movie.

‘At least the main actor was hot’ you giggled as you got up and placed the chine food containers into the bin in your kitchen area.

‘Do you want me to introduce you?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Nah, I don’t get involved with actors’ you said as you sneaked back under the covers. You were both still completely naked, covered by the doona.

‘Is that right?’ Cillian laughed before his lips crashed back onto yours and you quickly found yourself beneath him.

‘I can’t believe you can actually go again’ you said delighted as you could feel his hard member poke against your upper thigh, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Well, I am in bed with a very sexy woman…one who doesn’t get involved with actors apparenty….so maybe I should leave’ Cillian joked as he ran his hand through your hair gently.

‘I will make an exception for you’ you smirked just before Cillian got up from the bed and walked to your bathroom ensuite.

Seconds later, he returned with a large white towel and placed it onto the bed, causing you to look at him with surprise.

But, before you could put any more thought to it, he kneeled on the bed and took your legs, putting them over his shoulders.

‘Uhm…’ you said, somewhat surprised by his choice of position and, before you could say anything else, he interlaces your fingers with his and you felt the head of his cock rest against your entrance.

Cillian shifted his hips back and forth, running the length of his shaft and head over your wet folds and then pushed the head into your already soaking entrance.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as you felt his swollen cockhead push your lips aside and stretch you.

Your walls relaxed while you felt even more wetness flowing from you as Cillian gently pressed forward and you could feel your walls stretch around him once again.

Cillian leaned forward, bending at the waist while he entered you slowly and fully until he bottomed out inside of you and there it was again, this unfamiliar feeling.

You let out a loud moan as you could feel the tip of his cock press against your g-spot which was when you began to realise why he chose this position and why had placed a towel beneath you.

‘You are so fucking beautiful’ he whispered while you watched as he started to pull out again almost all the way before pushing back in and pausing when his cockhead hits your g-spot again.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as, with some subtle movements of his hips, he rubbed the head against your g-spot, making your fingers and toes curl.

Then he pulled out again almost all the way as he waited a few seconds for you to swell tighter. During that time, he ran his fingertips up and down your thighs and gave you grin before he started thrusting back into you again. He was slow and gentle, similar to when he his fingers first stimulated your sweet spot.

Once Cillian felt you relax completely and give in to the sensation of being penetrated this way, his thrusts became more forceful and fast.

The temperature of your apartment had increased significantly as sweat starts pouring down your bodies. Your juices once again started dripping from you and down his shaft. Your wetness was pooling underneath you two.

Cillian watched your toned stomach muscles flex as you cannot stay still as he reached down to rub your clit in circles, clockwise and counterclockwise while continuing his thrusting. Your breathing, which had started to become irregular, was now erratic. He smiled and enjoyed watching your breasts jiggle everywhere as you squirmed, trying to hold still.

Most of your body has now become a little numb, and as you felt him pulse and throb deep inside you and hear him moving in and out of your wetness, your eyes start glazing over a bit and rolling back into your head.

And then the intense feeling started again, at the top of your head. You couldn’t completely explain it and it was the most calm, relaxing feeling but with an undercurrent of tension that just gradually builds as that feeling flows over your face, neck, breasts, stomach, arms, and legs. When the feeling hit between your legs, your walls clamped down as hard as they could on his thick shaft.

‘Cillian, fuck…please don’t stop’ you moaned and with a loud cry, your body began to shiver, quiver, shake, bend, shudder, and contort as a multiwave orgasm rolled through you. Each wave feeling like a lightning bolt from head to toe as your tension lessened with each episode. Cillian pinned you down as you could not possibly stay still as he watched you writhe in ecstasy.

You almost blacked out as your whole body couldn’t stop coming. Just like the last time when Cillian massaged your g-spot, the pool of juices beneath you had quickly become a puddle and you could soon feel his balls swell up against your mound.

When your walls tightened around him, you could feel his cum rising within his shaft just before, with one loud groan, he filled you again with his warm seed.

Small tears fell from your eyes as you finally came down from your high and Cillian carefully pulled out of you, allowing you to rest your legs on the mattress.

‘Fuck Y/N, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ Cillian asked as soon as he noticed your teary eyes and flushed face.

‘No, it was just…’ you said as you took a deep breath before continuing your sentence. ‘It was very fucking intense’ you said, your breath heavy.

‘In a good way I hope’ Cillian chuckled before pressing his lips onto yours.

‘In the best way’ you giggled before you curled up against him.

After several gentle kisses and your hands roaming each other’s bodies, you eventually both drifted off to sleep.

***The Watch***

The following morning, you were both woken up by Cillian’s phone ringing at 8 o’clock. It was Kurt and he was persistent after Cillian didn’t pick up the first time.

Half asleep, with your head still resting on his chest, he answered the phone and talked to him.

‘Hey Kurt, what’s up?’ Cillian asked as he was waking up slowly while you began to trace your fingers over Cillian’s chest, playing with the little bit of chest hair.

‘I got the schedule last night and wondered whether you want to talk about it’ Kurt said politely just as Cillian wiggled around, stretching himself while you planted small kisses over his chest and down towards your stomach.

‘Uhm, talk…yes’ Cillian said as he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that you disappeared beneath the doona, your hands running over his upper thighs.

‘Could you come to my office in an hour?’ Kurt asked as Cillian took in a deep breath as your hands ran over his hardening cock.

‘Fuck’ was all that escaped him as he suddenly felt your warm lips wrapped around his base and he instantly went completely hard in your mouth.

‘Cillian?’ Kurt asked surprised by Cillian’s response.

‘Yes…fuck…sorry…9 o’clock?’ Cillian asked as he tried hard not to moan while you began to bob your head up and down, occasionally twirling your tongue over his head.

‘Yeah, if that’s alright?’ Kurt asked again, somewhat concerned by Cillian’s strange responses.

‘Yeah…’ Cillian responded before holding his breath, a deep groan stuck in his throat.

‘Can you call Y/N? She is being a fucking cunt not picking up my calls even though we need to work together on this’ Kurt complained.

‘Mhhm…’ Cillian said, pretending to listen to what Kurt was saying while you swallowed his length whole, moving your head up and down over and over again.

‘I actually think she is seeing someone’ Kurt went on to say as you ran your tongue piercing up and down Cillian’s shaft.

‘Aha’ Cillian responded trying to hold back his release, so close to coming.

‘I have to go man’ Cillian barely managed to say as your hands wrapped around his tight balls.

‘See you soon’ Kurt said before hanging up and just as he did a loud groan fell from Cillian’s lip.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned just as his shaft pulsated heavily and he filled your mouth with his warm and sweet cum.

You looked up from beneath the doona, opening your mouth slightly and suggestively before swallowing all of it with a grin.

‘So, what did my ex want?’ you asked sheepishly, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘You are so fucking bad’ he laughed before pulling you close for a kiss and telling you about the meeting.

‘You didn’t last very long despite your conversation with Kurt’ you giggled as you jumped up, walking towards the shower.

‘What can I say, blow jobs are my weakness especially coming from someone so talented’ Cillian smirked before he grabbed you from behind, kissing your neck and following you to the shower.

‘But, that’s not to say that we can’t keep going in the shower’ he grinned and so you went, spending twenties minutes making love while streams of hot water ran over your bodies.

After you came out of the shower and starred into the mirror you noticed that both, Cillian and you, were covered with small little bruises, scratches and bite marks.

You never quite had a night like this with anyone before and you weren’t ashamed. Nonetheless, you opted for a turtle neck jumper and some tight jeans.

Cillian had no choice but to wear the clothes he wore the night before, including the pair of jeans which had some obvious stains.

‘Sorry’ you chuckled as you noticed the stains.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll throw them in the wash and they’ll be grand’ he chuckled before you both walked to his car.

Ten minutes later, you arrived at Kurt’s office together and you felt the need to explain to him that your car broke down and Cillian was kind enough to offer to pick you up.

Kurt wasn’t suspicious by the fact that you arrived together, nor was he suspicious about the little bruises on Cillian’s neck. It was something else that, during your meeting with him, caught his attention and this was Cillian’s watch. It looked awfully familiar.

An hour into your meeting, rewriting half of the schedule because of Kurt being difficult and Cillian continuing to argue with him, Amanda and Jeremy arrived as well to finalise the advertising campaign for the music part of the festival.

Immediately, as soon as Amanda walked into Kurt’s office, she pulled Cillian aside.

‘Where the fuck were you last night?’ she asked quietly but everyone heard it, causing Jeremy to laugh.

‘I don’t think I have to answer that Amanda’ Cillian responded with some irritation before taking the paper schedule off Kurt and walking to the utilities room. Of course, she noticed the small bruises on his neck. It was obvious to her that he’s been with another woman.

You and Jeremy followed Cillian knowing very well that, the last time he tried to use the copier in the utilities room, he almost broke it and one of the administration assistants had banned him from ever touching it again.

As you were gone, Kurt had time to speak to Amanda in private.

‘I think I have an idea as to where Cillian may have been last night’ he chuckled, catching Amanda’s interest.

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

318 notes · View notes

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

10K notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (PT.3) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART THREE

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: A little Iwa and Hoisuke sketch to accompany this chappie ❤ Thank you for all the love and support. My inbox has boomed since I last posted and I’m so grateful that it is being appreciated by y’all :,) <3

ON TO PART THREE! Let me know what you guys think of this part :) xx

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

------

"Miss Y/N! You came!"

Hoisuke has a beam on his face the moment you step into the Iwaizumi household. That slightly calms your jittery nerves as you remove your shoes and step in, balancing the container of cookies in your hand.

"Hi Hoisuke," you greet back with a smile, "I brought your favourite cookies."

"Really?!"

"Really," you hand him the container with a grin, relishing as he oohs and aahs as he gets a whiff of the said baked treats. He beams up at you, "thanks miss Y/N. You're so cool."

"Not as cool as you are," you ruffle his hair and he giggles, before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you inside, "come, Daddy's warming up the pizza."

To be honest, part of you had combusted when you'd read over Iwaizumi's message repeatedly to make sure you weren't reading it wrong. The other part of you was screaming that this was definitely out of bounds and plus, could you consider this to be a sort of date?

No, of course not. Definitely not. He'd invited you over as a friend. And because Hoisuke liked you.

When you put it like that, it stung a little.

As Hoisuke drags you into the living space, you spot Iwaizumi grabbing for beers in the fridge and he nods at you, "hey."

"Hi," you reply, feeling a bit shy.

"The pizzas just got here," he says, chin jerking towards the pizza boxes already set upon the coffee table, surrounded by four plates, "a friend of mine is joining. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Uncle Tooru! He's the best volleyball setter ever!" Hoisuke adds with a clap of his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement, "do you play volleyball miss Y/N?"

"Nope," you singsong, "I can't even catch a ball."

"But you always tell us to do well in PE."

"Do what I tell you and not--"

"Not what you do," Hoisuke sings along and you can't help but laugh before ruffling his hair fondly, "at least I know you're listening in class!"

"I always listen to you, miss Y/N."

"Unlike his father," Iwaizumi points out while walking over to the pair of you and handing you a beer can, "whom he never listens to."

"But you don't listen to me, daddy."

"Wha--yeah I do."

"Noooo uncle Tooru had to beg you to invite miss Y/N over when I told you a hundred times!"

You burst out into a fit of laughter just as Iwaizumi hollers out, "wha--No! That's--"

"Uncle Tooru said that you should man up and invite her otherwise he'll do it himself," his son chatters on, oblivious to the redness rising in his father's ears, "what does man up mean, miss Y/N?"

"Okay that's enough babbling," Iwaizumi's hand shoots out to press down onto Hoisuke's head. He nudges it towards the couch, "bring miss Y/N to the living room. Scoot."

"But--"

"Now." His father scowls. His son scowls back and you try to shove down the round of laughter bubbling up your throat, for they look like the spitting image of each other and they probably don't even know it.

You reach out, tugging Hoisuke by the shoulder, "come on then. What movie are we watching?"

It makes you slightly giddy on the inside to hear such words fall from Hoisuke's mouth. If there's one thing you've learnt from being around children is that they never lie. That, coupled with the way Iwaizumi's face has reddened a deep shade of tomato, is enough to cause a small tingling in your chest.

Since Oikawa is goig to be late, the three of you decide on watching Harry Potter -- Hoisuke's current obsession at the moment -- while munching on too-greasy pizza and washing it down with beer, coke for the minors. It's been a while since you've watched the series, thus finding yourself cheering and hollering along with Hoisuke which feels like you're seeing it for the first time all over again.

Multiple times, Hoisuke would turn and beam up at you, sometimes hugging your right arm and burying his face into your shoulder during action-packed scenes. You'd be lying to say you don't enjoy his warmth sticking to your side, sniffing the soft baby scent of his hair that still clings to him. The smell of childhood filled with innocence and maybe out of impulse, you pull him a little closer.

You're so immersed in the moment to notice the pair of coffee-coloured eyes are gazing at you with growing tenderness.

"Hellooo! Cool and Handsome Uncle Tooru is here!"

You jump at the sudden intruder's voice booming through the apartment, followed by Iwaizumi's scoff upon meeting your eyes. Hoisuke bounds up without delay, rushing to the door while crying out, "uncle Tooru!"

"Hi my beautiful boy!" Oikawa does not hesitate to sweep him up into his arms, kissing his cheek in affection and causing the child to giggle, "how's my favourite person doing? Has iwa-chan been treating you well?"

Hoisuke nods jovially, giggling some more when Oikawa pinches his cheek, "alright alright. You look dashing--oh, Iwa-chan! And this must be the famous Miss Y/N you've both been telling me about?"

You pink at his words but it doesn't faze Hoisuke in the least, "yeah! Isn't she pretty? She's the best teacher ever and her cookies are amazing!"

"H--Hi," you nod at Oikawa shyly, quickly avoiding his gaze to stop yourself from combusting with embarrassment. You've forgotten how beautiful this man actually is even though his reputation preceded him.

"Ahh it's nice to meet you Y/N," he flashes you a sweet smile, causing you to flush right down to your toes while you manage to stutter, "n--nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san."

"I see why Hoisuke and Iwa-chan like you," Oikawa turns to wink at Iwaizumi, "I approve!"

"Shut up Shittykawa," Iwaizumi scowls.

Oikawa gasps mockingly while covering Hoisuke's ears, "Iwa-chan! Not in front of the child and the lady!"

"I said fuck off--"

Oikawa's quick to slap his shoulder, hollering, "no swearing either! Oh gosh, excuse him Y/N. He gets very flamboyant whenever I'm around. If ever he does swear at you, it's just a matter of showing his affection."

You let out a laugh, spurred on by how red Iwaizumi's ears are, "I'll keep that in mind. I didn't know Hoisuke's dad was such a potty mouth," you say, narrowing your eyes playfully at the said man who scowls in return.

"Only when Oikawa's around," he states, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression that mimics his son's sulking.

"What's a potty mouth?" Hoisuke asks as he and Oikawa take their respective seats, the latter swiping a slice of pizza out of Iwaizumi's plate, who growls and kicks at his shin in turn.

The handsome man groans while you turn to Hoisuke, "potty mouth means someone who swears a lot."

"Like daddy?"

"Uhm--" you stutter, his response causing Oikawa to burst out laughing, "yes! What a bright little mind! Totally like your Uncle Tooru!"

Before Iwaizumi can bash Oikawa's head in, you hurriedly resume the movie with the excuse that the best part hasn't come up yet. That simmers down the atmosphere a little, all eyes now captivated by Harry Potter and his friends fighting against the ogre. Hoisuke gasps, nails digging into your arm as he latches on for dear life, all actions not going unnoticed by the pair of men.

"I like her," Oikawa mouths out to Iwaizumi, whose scowl deepens tenfold.

As per what the rumours stated, Oikawa is fun and easy-going to hang out with, a complete stark contrast to his best friend. You understand why people tend to gravitate towards him the more the evening wears on. It’s not just the fact that he puts you at ease and is naturally adept at making conversation, but it’s in the genuine spark of interest in his eyes, a look that says that he’s listening to you even if that might be faked on his part. It’s that expression stating that he cares, that makes you realize why Oikawa Tooru had been such a hotshot back in your high school days.

So why do your eyes still manage to find their way to the brooding figure on the other side of the couch, who is filled with nothing but spiteful comments and sarcastic responses?

Oikawa's little 'pssst' snaps your attention back to the present to find the sais man pointing at Hoisuke while mouthing "he's asleep." Indeed, your eyes travel down to Hoisuke's tiny figure slumped against your side and your mouth curves up in an affectionate smile.

You're about to shift him into your arms but Oikawa beats you to it, deftly slipping the boy into his arms and glancing between you and Iwaizumi with that same knowing smile that sets you on edge, "I'll tuck him to bed. Iwa-chan, buy me snacks would you?"

"Hell no--" Iwaizumi starts protesting only for Oikawa to walk out of the room, whistling softly without waiting for an answer. You sigh silently, pressing your lips together and glancing at Iwaizumi from the corner of your eye.

He averts his gaze, but not quickly enough, grunting softly, " wanna go?"

"To the convenience store?"

He nods, already moving to grab his jacket by the door as you scramble to join him while trying not to act so desperate to spend just a little more time with him.

The evening is colder than you'd expect, a mixture of wind and rain that makes him curse slightly while you hurriedly open up your umbrella the moment you step into the street. He nods, mutters a 'thanks' and guides you down the pavement where you jostle your way through evening strollers.

Quite surprised by the amount of movement on the street, you catch yourself asking, "is your neighbourhood always that busy?"

"I think there's a fancy fair around the corner," Iwaizumi sidesteps a man as he speaks, his shoulder brushing yours and sending warmth all the way down to your toes, "give me that."

Without warning, his hand engulfs yours holding the umbrella up and jumping at the contact, you quickly retract your hand, "thanks," you murmur, glad that the dark conceals the red splotches dotting your cheeks.

Your mind races to find something --anything -- to get you out of this awkward predicament. You'd die if he finds out how fast your heart is beating, "so uhm--Oikawa-san seems nice. You still keep in touch with him frequently then?"

"More like I can't get rid of his annoying ass," Iwaizumi mutters.

You chuckle, causing his eyebrow to quirk up, "what's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering whether Hoisuke will turn out like you when he grows up," you can't help but grin up at him, "you have a talent for dissing people."

"Only the ones worthy of my attention."

"Am I not worthy of your attention?" You tease.

He scowls down at you, "you're Hoisuke's teacher, that complicates things."

"In what way?" A passerby suddenly nudges against you and you stumble slightly, only to feel Iwaizumi's arm clasp your shoulder to steady you.

He's warm, your mind chants. And he smells good. Like citrus.

He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice your flustered countenance, "watch it," he barks out. Then, he turns back to answer your question, "how do I know you won't make Hoisuke fail his grade if I upset you too much?"

"Woah there mister. I didn't know I was that low on your list."

"That's not what I meant," he growls. A few weeks before might have caused you to fear his temper. But things are different now and you've come to know that it's just in Iwaizumi's nature to be so rough around the edges.

So you just bump your shoulders against him, flash him an understanding grin, and say, "I get it, hothead. No need to get riled up."

"What'd you call me?!"

Bursting into fits of laughter at how easily triggered he gets, you reach up to ruffle his hair, "down, boy--"

And that's when it hits you -- you are touching Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck.

Your hand drops like wildfire, body instantly cowering away with a furious blush, "I'm so sorry," you squeak out, "that was not appropriate I know--"

Someone else bumps into your back which knocks you straight into the said man's chest. His hands find your waist on instinct as he steadies you both and for a minute, the world stops moving. Nothing matters, apart from the fact that your face is pressed against his torso, his scent overwhelming your nostrils with bliss, his warmth making you melt ever so slightly.

"Asshole," you hear his dim hiss like an echo in the back of your head. Dazed, your eyes stay glued to his shirt in hopes that he won't notice your embarrassment, "s--sorry about that," you squeak out.

Only then do you feel his gaze slide down to your face. He asks gruffly, "you okay?"

"Fine."

Dear god. Someone kill you now.

"Come on," and before you can protest, you feel his warm hand wrap around your own as he tugs you along, ensuring that you are tucked into his side while he weaves through the throng of people.

You're glad he can't see your face, nor the way your pulse is racing underneath your skin.

And the more you gaze at the strength of his shoulders, the more you are hit by a crumbling realization:

That you might be falling for Iwaizumi Hajime, and that might be the worst decision you’ve made yet.

----

He tells you about his married life when you sit outside the convenience store that evening, about how young and inexperienced he was, and how it had ended on pretty bad terms.

The fact that he even opens up about the topic surprises you, but nevertheless, you want to hope that it's his way of showing that your relationship isn't just tied by Hoosuke.

“Why...” you hesitate slightly, tentative, unsure whether one word will cause him to clam up, “why did it not work out? With you and Hoisuke's mother?”

It is to be expected that you are met with his silence. It’s stoic and filled with warning, and you quickly scramble for an out, “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” you bow your head and bite your lip.

“She wanted more.”

His words catch you by surprise. You blink, before looking up at him. He doesn’t look away.

It takes a moment. Then, he murmurs:

“She wanted more...of everything. Things I couldn’t give her.”

It stuns you, that he’s so outright. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have anything to say, and you don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he continues thickly, “she was never satisfied with what I gave her. Always complained that I wasn't enough of a man to sustain a family," he pauses, "I think she was envious. She worked in a big corporation as a financial auditor, and her friends -- well, they all live pretty decent lives. So when we always had our arms full with cleaning up after Hoisuke, they went to get cocktails and eat sushi. I guess she felt like she was missing out somewhere along the line."

It's not the things he says, it's more about the way he says it, voice so thick with emotion that you can hear the tears about to fall from his lips. Your own chest aches with sympathy and your fingers ache to reach out to just hold him.

But you're not that close. You know it's not within your boundaries.

Iwaizumi chuckles before your mind can form a coherent answer, "sorry. Didn't mean for it to get depressive."

You turn to look at him, gaze at the way the streetlight dances over his side profile and down his jawline, "You don't have to say sorry, Iwaizumi-san," pausing and unsure whether you should go on, you decide it's worth the risk, "and while I don't blame her priorities, well, ...was money really such an issue that she left you and Hoisuke behind?"

He shrugs half-hearted, "not my place to say. I was labelled the cheap bastard that wasn't worth shit when she decided to sleep with her ex."

Disgust coils in your stomach, but you decide on letting the anger simmer silently in the pit of your stomach. You don't realize, however, that your fist is clenched so hard into your lap until the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers flutter over your own.

You look up in surprise only to find his dark orbs searching your face, "hey," he murmurs out quietly, voice surprisingly soft, " s' okay."

You flush against the chilly night air, "sorry," you mumble, "I just-- I know how it feels like. Not to feel like you're enough."

He doesn't respond, only watches you intently. You continue, "my boyfriend cheated on me back in college. I didn't know about it, until six months later."

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and his fingers tense over yours. Your throat feels scratchy, "so I know the feeling."

"Asshole," is what slips out of his mouth. You chuckle half-heartedly, though with the way he isn't pulling away from your hand makes you feel warm and giddy on the inside.

You'd like to think that this little bit of time spent together has brought you closer, if only to share your woes. But one thing's for sure, you think to yourself as you slowly walk back to Iwaizumi's flat now that the crowd has thinned out, Is that you both have Hoisuke's best interests at heart.

And that is your top priority that you should not forget. Even if you can feel your breath tug in your chest every time your eyes linger a little too long upon each other's.

----

Ha, who the hell were you kidding?

It’s almost impossible to put the certain dark-eyed, dark-haired scowling face of a man out of your mind as the next week comes by. It’s even harder when Hoisuke is more than intent on spending time at your desk in-between classes, chatting on about what he and his father were up to throughout the week. And though you restrain yourself from asking too many questions burning at the back of your tongue, you can’t help but be drawn to the small snippets of Iwaizumi’s life as presented by his son. Even if it’s presented by his son.

So why do you find yourself back in his apartment the very next week with flour all over your clothes ans currently coaching Hoisuke to make figures with his clumsy five-year-old hands?

"This is hard miss Y/N," Hoisuke pouts, arms dropping to his sides, "can't you do it?"

"But that would be no fun," you nudge him playfully as you work on your own little cat figure, "all you need is patience, practice and love."

Glancing at the clock above Hoisuke's head to see that it's already past six in the evening, you wonder where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have disappeared off to. They hadn't told you anything, only that they were picking up some groceries. You guessed it was merely the thought of baking that made them so reticent.

"Don't worry miss Y/N. Daddy's coming back soon," Hoisuke says, as if knowing exactly the thoughts occupying your mind.

"Where did your daddy go anyway?" You decide to play along and ask casually as you move behind Hoisuke to help him mold tiny fingers.

"He and uncle Tooru said that they wanted you to taste the food from the sushi place they love," he then adds casually, almost like an afterthought, "daddy said you looked tired."

He said what now? Your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

The sound of the door opening grabs your attention, revealing a dishevelled Oikawa in the doorway with grocery bags hanging from his arms, "we're back with food!"

"Uncle Tooru! Look at the cookie I'm making!" Hoisuke doesn't hesitate to tug onto Oikawa's shirt and drag him to the kitchen counter to marvel at the little misshaped man. Dusting your hands onto your apron and turning to help Iwaizumi, your step falters upon noticing the undecipherable expression shadowing his features.

"Iwaizumi-san?" You blink.

It's gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl, "sorry we're late," he murmurs as you help him with the takeaways. You try not to think too much into the way he'd been staring, but your own heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe--

Stop. You mentally slap yourself. Stop it right there.

Similarly, Iwaizumi is having the exact same mental debate.

Don't get him wrong. There isn't anything he loves about the fact that you've just created havoc in his kitchen. Had he insinuated it when he'd asked about your famous cookie recipe? Maybe. But shit man, call him old and cranky but the amount of cleaning up after the mess in his kitchen is something he isn't looking forward to.

But that small nugget of stress instantly melts away the moment he lays eyes on you and Hoisuke, together. Hoisuke is giggling, you are holding onto his hands, maneuvering them so as to make a semblance of a human limb. You're both dusted with flour, pink in your cheeks, and Iwaizumi swears his heart is going to drop out of his chest.

"Daddy daddy! Wanna see the man me and miss Y/N made?"

"That miss Y/N and I made," you corrected out of impulse, grinning as the child repeated what you saie with no less conviction, and Iwaizumi forced himself to move towards his son with nonchalance, "let me see."

Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't be inviting you over so casually like it's a weekly thing. And maybe you don't even want to be there. Maybe you're just doing him a favour because you pity him. That's enough to make him sick in his stomach.

But this thought dissipates the more the evening wears on and the more he catches your soft eyes, the motherly affection you radiate towards his child, the gentle giggles falling from your mouth.

Iwaizumi wants it. He wants it so bad his heart aches.

And Oikawa seems to know exactly what he's thinking. Or maybe he's too obvious.

"This is so good," you groan in satisfaction while digging into the takeout sushi. Oikawa doesn't hesitate to pipe up, "right? Iwa-chan literally dragged my butt out of town for th-- fuck!"

He howls, clutching his leg where Iwaizumi had kicked at it in growing irritation and when you look at him in confusion, he feels his face grow red, "don't listen to him."

"Uncle Tooru, you're a bad man. You said the F word," Hoisuke chimes in, "it's okay though, daddy. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The redness of a fire engine can't compare to the flush riding the back of his neck. He wishes for the ground to swallow him at this very inetant, though his lips do quirk up in a smile seeing you burst out laughing before ruffling Hoisuke's hair.

"I see the way you look at her," Oikawa tells him a few nights later upon meeting up at the gym where they both train a few nights a week. It is also one of the few times where Hoisuke stays at his mother's place.

Iwaizumi grunts in response. He turns his head away to focus on his pushups, but if his best friend can deduce from his face alone, then that's an obvious way of showing his embarrassment when he is past the point of denial.

"She likes you too you know," Oikawa casually throws in, wiping the sweat from his face as he straddles a rowing machine, "she's like an open book."

"You don't know that," Iwaizumi hisses as he bends his arms, lift them with another grunt.

"Oh yes I do. And if you're smart you'd do something about it before someone else comes in to swoop her away."

As annoying as he is, Oikawa has a point. The nagging thought eats away at his subconscious mind the more Iwaizumi turns his feelings over in his hands. Despite this, he invites you out with him and his best friend one Saturday night and is mildly surprised that you accept so quickly.

"How have we never met if you went to Aoba Johsai?" Oikawa asks while munching on a french fry. As per his request for greasy comfort food, they'd ended up dragging you to one of their local eateries that make the best burgers in town, "would've noticed a cutie like you."

You can't help but roll your eyes, grinning, "simple, I didn't have any talent. I sang like I was deaf and had two left feet. And don't get me started on sports."

"You could've been a cheerleader," Oikawa smirks evilly, causing you to swat him and reply, "unless I wanted to come out of high school with two broken legs, which I did not."

"Good thing anyway, Iwa-chan hated those cheerleaders with a passion," Oikawa nudges him, "whenever I'd get bombarded with them he'd just scowl and they would scurry off like ants. They were scared shitless!"

"As if you didn't like watching those cheerleaders," you throw Iwaizumi a smug, pointed look with raised eyebrows, to which is scowl deepened. But you're used to it at this point, it doesn't even make you flinch.

"They were annoying and whiny. Why would I like them?" He muttered into his strawberry milkshake. A surprising revelation, considering his bitter, rough countenance.

"Cause they were hot."

"Cause they had long legs."

You and Oikawa blink at each other before you burst out laughing. Iwaizumi merely rolls his eyes, "idiots," but his mouth says otherwise, tugging up in amusement.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Oikawa-san?" You ask aa you munch on your burger.

"Bah, girlfriends don't agree with me."

"He's too much of a playboy to get himself a girlfriend," Iwaizumi mutters loud enough to reach your ears and you snort at the dagger-eyed stare Oikawa throws him, "I can't just give that," he motions towards his figure, "hot bod to anyone, Iwa-chan!"

"Mine's hotter than yours."

"Shut up! Why are you always so mean to me? You know I've been working my ass off for those back muscles!"

Your snort causes your milkshake to spurt from your nose and as Oikawa yelps and scoots furthest away from you, Iwaizumi doesn't hesitate to thrust a bunch of clean napkins in your face, chuckling deeply as he eyes you with the same fond amusement he's been denying himself of in the last few weeks.

Is it selfish? To want more of you than he can have? To feel the naked throb of his fingers that ache to reach out and just tuck your hair behind your ears?

Of course it is. If he does that, he'll cross a line he isn't quite certain he's ready for yet.

Daddy, do you really really like Miss Y/N? Hoisuke's voice is as clear as water that same evening, after he's tucked his son in, after all lights have dimmed in his flat and he sprawls atop his bed with heavy eyelids and a content stomach.

Yes, he thinks to himself as his eyes slowly slip shut, I think I do.

Fuck.

-----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi , @evesmores , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna , @paintedstarres , @okadaxo , @michaki

388 notes · View notes

antheiagoddessofwriting · 3 years

Text

His Shirt

Bucky Barnes - One Shot

Word Count: Idk, I’m mobile sorry.

Requested by: my brain!

Warnings: nervous Bucky, pining?, fluff, meddling/teasing Sam.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, platonic!Sam x Bucky

Masterlist

__________________________________________

You had been part of the avengers, well what was left of the avengers, for a few months. After the deaths of Vision, Tony, Natasha and Steve leaving for the 40’s everyone was desperate to find new members. Pepper was generous enough to rebuild the compound and invite as many people as she could to live there. You had the ability to |your preferred power|, but above that you were a kind and affectionate person. Your warmth was sorely needed for the remnants of the team.

You were always warm with your fellow teammates and you’d developed the hobby of stealing their clothes. Whether they were too big or too small you would make it work. The only person that wasn’t victim of your theft was Bucky. Your avoidance of both him and his clothing upset him, you were the first person he’d developed feelings for since the 40’s, and that scared him. The thought of you being terrified of him or just simply hating him broke his heart. You were slightly scared of him but it wasn’t for the reasons he believed. To you, he was the kindest soul you’d ever met, he was like a tree after a lightning storm. Sure, a few branches were missing, but a tree can heal, and it’ll always be beautiful. Unfortunately, you too were saddened by the lack of interaction between you two, but considering his lack of interaction with most other members and his best friend leaving him, you didn’t blame him.

But, seeing as you had three whole conversations with him yesterday you decided to sneak into his room just before your shower and steal one of his many Henley shirts. It was a very dark purple, and you loved it. You remembered that he’s only wore it once, maybe twice, so surely he wouldn’t notice. After you showered and got dressed you walked into the kitchen to make some brunch, it was your turn after all.

After a particularly rough sparring session with Sam, Bucky headed back to his room and showered. But upon digging through his closet and all his drawers trying to find his dark purple Henley he couldn’t find it. “Did I wear it yesterday? No I wore a red one... right?” His thoughts were broken by Sam knocking on the door.

“Come on Buck, the food is gonna be gone if you take any longer”

“Alright, hang on”

Bucky sighed and grabbed a simple black t-shirt that hugged his muscles. He joined Sam outside his room and they walked down to the kitchen to see who was cooking today. He stopped in the hallway when he saw you, in nothing but his purple Henley and those little black shorts that drove him crazy, making French toast. He felt his face heat up and he was sure he was red, kinda like the blood flowing straight to his-

“What’s a matter Buck? Never seen a girl/guy/anyone in your clothes?” Sam teased

“What? No, wait-“

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s probably the first time you’ve seen anything like this since 1827.”

“Sam-“

“No no, go get her/him/them tiger, I’ll leave you two alone.”

Sam turned around and walked down the hallway laughing, leaving Bucky alone in the doorway. He turned back to admire you as you danced to the music in your headphones. With a sigh he mustered all the courage he had and casually walked up beside you.

Seeing a shape next to you, you looked up and saw your favorite person in the whole world Bucky. With a blush and smile, removed your headphones.

“Hi Bucky, is there anything I can do for you?”

“No I’m ok, doll”

He awkwardly paused. “Omg say something!”

“...but, uh, you know... I was looking for this really nice shirt this morning but I couldn’t find it.”

“Really? How peculiar” you laughed

He playfully tugged at the hem of his your shirt, pulling another blush from you.

“It seems to have gotten mixed up with your shirts” he said smiling

Even though your heart was beating out of your chest you stepped closer to him, causing his hand brush your thigh. “God, I love his smile”

“It seems it has”

If you thought your heart was beating loudly before, it was deafening now. You swore Bucky had to be able to hear it but, there was no way he could over his own heart.

...

“God I hope you don’t hate me for this” he thought to himself as he slowly leaned down, gently placing a kiss on your lips. You deepened the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing yourself closer to him. He brought his hands to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

You both broke apart after what felt like both eternity and half a second, resting your foreheads on each other, trying to catch your breath and comprehend what just happened.

“You know, if I knew you were going to do that, I would’ve stolen your shirt a lot sooner”

A laugh escaped from Bucky’s smiling lips just before he kissed you again.

“I’ll let you take all the shirts you want if it means I get to kiss you again, doll”

“The shirts would just be a bonus”

Bucky smiled and leaned down for another kiss but pulled away when he heard the voice of none other than the man, the myth, the legend himself, Sam Wilson.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Sam!”

__________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed my first fic!

I really hope it wasn’t terrible! I’m super nervous!

I tried to keep this gender neutral, sorry if I slipped up.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #Sam Wilson #meddling Sam Wilson #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #after endgame fic #after endgame #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

259 notes · View notes

xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too. this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia and @hobi-gif.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

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

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office. Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat. He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully. “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand. He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone. He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated. You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully. “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls. Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly. “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced. She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation. By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

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

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul. It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River. It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is. How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here.

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option.

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind. They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine. Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution. Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much. He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university. News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job. He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

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

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call.

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection. “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office. I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon. I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses. “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours. Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway. “You’ve been so distant lately. It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief. Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics.

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters. “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood. Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t. It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man. Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power.

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller?

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

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

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen.

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into. His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did. You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him. You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father. You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle. By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times. The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago. You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years. And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face. His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame. He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face.

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back. You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on. He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit. His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

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

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon. He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly. The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding. The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times. So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed. You organized his files. You streamlined his schedule. You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes. Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough -- that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough.

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.

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

“Eomma?”

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you. You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat. You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side. Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin. “It’s freezing outside. I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks. “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil. You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair. She leans into your touch with a tired smile. “Everything is fine. My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did. But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes. “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago. She brought some Japchae for dinner. Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home. The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help. With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch. “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse. More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs. But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand. You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket. You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should. But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

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

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon mafia au #bts mafia #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet

2K notes · View notes

runningtwiceasfast · 3 years

Text

I’ve Never Not Wanted You

This is my contribution to the Hinny Ficfest organized by the wonderful @clarensjoy - Thank you for organizing and for the fantastic contributions. I haven’t published a fic in awhile and this one is very not proofread and rough but I wanted desperately to contribute something. I hope you don’t mind this one is under the wire! Eventually I will post a cleaned up version on AO3, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “I’ve never not wanted you”

“You have to come to dinner tonight. Mum has invited another suitor and we are all going to want to watch the bloodbath.” Ron’s mouth was full of curry, so it was hard to make out exactly what he meant, but the gist was an invite for dinner.

Harry scowled in response and pushed his food away from him, suddenly having lost his appetite.

“When will Molly stop? After Ginny has killed someone?”

Ron gave a barking laugh. “Maybe. It’s hard to stop a determined Weasley though.”

“So, who is more determined? Molly to marry Ginny off or Ginny to resist?” Harry wondered out loud, still staring at his noodles as if they had offended him.

Shrugging, Ron reached over and helped himself to Harry’s discarded lunch. “Mum just wants Ginny to be happy. Wizards marry pretty young in our world and everyone else has mostly coupled off,” Ron pointed his chopsticks at Harry. “Well, except you mate.”

Harry frowned.

“I’ve been busy,” he finally said, and Ron gave a series of nods.

“Of course. Ridding the world of unstoppable evil and what not. I’m sure that’s why Mum is focused on Ginny and not you.”

“That’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it?” Harry asked, irritated at the way the conversation had changed. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his sorry dating life. Or Ginny’s for that matter.

“The entire wizarding world is a double standard innit? Best to just make the best to just make the best of it and enjoy the show.”

Harry merely gave a small noise of assent, turning back to his noodles to find them completely gone. He looked up at Ron’s sheepish look.

“I thought you were done.”

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Avoiding the floo network entirely, Harry opted to apparate to the Burrow, pausing outside the familiar door to collect his thoughts.

Using his free hand, he smoothed down his shirt and jeans, his other hand grasping the bottle of red wine Arthur had mentioned he liked the last time they had dined together at Grimmauld Place. He rose his hand to knock, but the door swung open before his fist even made contact.

“Harry! You’ve come to save me!” Harry was rather unprepared for the sight of Ginny, fresh faced and beautiful, greeting him at the door and found himself unable to say much of anything other than a grumbled hello as he shoved the bottle of wine at her.

She was wearing a simple black cotton dress that hugged her waist and flared out at the bottom. Her hair was down and bouncing around her shoulders. He gestured stupidly at his ears.

“You are wearing the earrings.”

She gave a tinkling laugh and pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see more clearly the diamond studs that he had given her last Christmas. “I’ve practically never taken them off. They are gorgeous. Probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.” She smiled at him sincerely and he felt his heart rate accelerate uncomfortably.

“I’m glad you like them so much.” He smiled back at her and they remained that way, smiling at each other silently before Ginny was called rather abruptly from the other room.

She gave a grimace in response. “She’s invited Ernie Macmillan over can you believe it? Him and Hermione are currently fighting over some horribly boring historical fact in the other room and she expects me to marry this man?” She rolled her eyes and Harry gave a weak laugh in response.

Learning up, she gave him a light kiss on the cheek, her hand resting on his arm. “It’s so lovely to see you, Harry. Please feel free to rescue me from inane conversation as you see fit.”

She floated away and he stood there struck rather dumb for a few moments.

Following the trail of voices from the entryway, Harry entered the living area to various greetings. It appeared he was one of the last to arrive and he grabbed a butterbeer and joined in where Ron and George were huddled together by the fireplace.

“I think the formula is off. People shouldn’t be incapacitated. Just unconscious for a short while.”

George shook his head. “They are fine if you just poke them—Harry! You’ve come to join us!” George gave him a broad smile that Harry couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Is this for something you’ve already invented, or you have created something else to wreak havoc on the wizarding public?”

“Harry my dear boy, I’m not sure why it can’t be both,” George said sincerely causing Harry to snort into his bottle.

Ginny’s laughter brought their attention to where she was standing in the center of the room with Ernie.

Ron frowned. “Maybe mum actually found a winner.”

They watched as Ginny laughed again at something Ernie said, her hand placed on his arm.

“Apparently he works with Percy. Probably in the Department of who has the biggest stick up their arse,” George laughed to himself.

Harry frowned as he watched Ernie with his patrician features and pedigree push a tendril of crimson hair behind Ginny’s ear causing her to blush.

“What did that bottle do to you mate?” Ron joked and Harry looked down at the tight grip he was maintaining on his butterbeer. He loosened his grip and stretched his fingers.

Molly’s appearance in the room quieted most conversations as she herded everyone into the dining area where amazing smells were wafting. It required gymnastics in order for everyone to get into the magically enhanced room.

“No no Ginny. Don’t sit there. Sit over here by Ernie,” Molly smiled warmly at the tall boy. Ernie smiled back in a way that made Harry’s hand flinch towards his wand, imagining all the new curses he had recently mastered in his second year auror training.

“Mum it took me straining my hop to even get a seat. I’m going to stay right here,” she turned to Harry who suddenly realized how close she was. “You are ok with that right Harry?” Her eyes widened slightly and he managed to cotton on.

“Er yes sorry Molly. Ginny is fine here.” She gave him a brilliant smile and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“I think I’ve lost some of my brain cells.” Harry had to resist flinching as he felt her breath brush his hair as Ginny leaned over and whispered to him.

He gave a tight-lipped smile. “You seemed rather fond of this one,” he whispered in return to her causing her to wave a hand at him dismissively.

“I’m just trying to be nice. If I hex this one she will just bring in someone worse. I heard Malfoy was keen,” she gave a dramatic shiver, her impish smile telling another story.

Harry felt a rush of relief he tried not to analyze. “Molly can keep on bringing by all the unsuitable young men of the English wizarding world if it means I get to sit next to you.” The words are soft and filled with way too much feeling and for one frightening heartbeat he wished he could take them back.

She remained silent, grabbing a dinner roll form the passed tray and fidgeting with it between her hands. “Harry, you shouldn’t say such things to me,” she finally said mildly, refusing to look at him. “I might start getting ideas.”

Impulsively he reached for one of her hands, forcing her to drop the bread. He pulled her hand under the table and squeezed it gently.

They sat with hands clasped under the table, but otherwise ignoring each other, answering direct questions but otherwise staying mostly silent. Harry thought he saw Ginny’s face was rather shiny and he wondered what he looked like. Probably pale white and sickly.

“Ginny, how goes the season? Should I be placing my Harpy’s bets now?” Ernie asked Ginny directly causing her to drop Harry’s hand and inhale shakily.

“Oh, I’m just reserve for now. But a bet on the Harpies is always a safe bet,” Ginny gave a wicked smile causing the table to collectively give a ruckus laugh.

“Ernie, you know Ginny is the youngest reserve chaser in the league,” Molly boasted, and Harry noticed Ginny resist rolling her eyes.

“Mum, I’m so glad you support my career choice now.” The words were biting but the soft look in her eyes made Harry think Ginny actually meant them.

Harry stole a look at Justin. To his disgust the boy was looking at Ginny rather starry eyed. It isn’t like Harry could blame him; a similar look frequently graced his own face.

He was rather sick of it all though. The constant parade of unworthy men being thrust at Ginny.

The rather petulant thought that Molly had never asked him to be one of those unworthy men flew through his brain unhelpfully. Perhaps everyone had given up on the possibility of him and Ginny ever making it work.

They had made it work though. For a few blissful months they had been something new and delicate and untouchable. Frequently Harry thought back to some of those times. Of walks around the school, hands clasped and of breathless goodbyes leaving them both wanting and late for class.

Ever since the war Harry had been trying to pick up the pieces, but it had been hard and often he had found himself rather aimless. Without even realizing it, he had found that he had pulled back on all the ties that bound him-rarely coming by the Burrow, never seeing friends other than around the office and busying himself with work and tracking down rogue Death Eaters.

He had finally looked up and while he had stayed in the same spot, everyone else had moved on. Ron had ditched the aurors and found his calling with George in the joke shop. Hermione had proven herself immensely capable apart from him in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts and immediately absconded to Harpy training camp.

Unfortunately, in all his chosen one lessons with Dumbledore, the wise wizard had never told him what happens after the bad guy has been slain. What happens to the chosen one when he’s done being chosen?

In this instance it seemed as if Harry was doomed to sit there and watch as everyone he loved moved on without him. Bitterly he looked down at the roast on his plate, moving the discarded pees around with his fork.

“You gonna finish that?” Harry looked up to find he was almost done at the table, Ron leaning over him, fork in hand.

Scowling, Harry pushed his plate towards Ron who tucked in happily. “Ernie left a bit ago,” Ron said, in between bites. Harry’s eyes snapped up at that.

“Why would I care whether or not Ernie had left?” Harry snarked at him, frowning when Ron paused his eating to give Harry a knowing look.

“Either way, Ginny is in the backyard if you want to talk to her,” Ron scooped up some mashed potatoes. “Or not.” He shrugged.

Harry pushed away from the table and paused in front of the living room. He could hear the rest of the Weasley’s making their normal noises and he hesitated before joining, his eyes straying to the backyard where Ron had said Ginny was.

Whatever gravitational pull Ginny had made the decision for him as Harry turned and slipped out the door.

She was silhouetted against the starry sky, the light of the moon reflecting off her hair in a way that made his throat dry. He approached her slowly and she turned at his footsteps, giving him a warm smile.

“I came out to get some fresh air,” she told him unnecessarily and he plopped down next to her, his arm brushing hers. “These family gatherings can be a lot,” she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, but that’s probably more to do with the quick sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Feeling that same impulsive urge he had felt during dinner that let him hold her hand, he lifted his arm up and over her shoulders. They both froze at the contact, but before he could regret it, she leaned in, setting her head on his shoulder.

“Where did Ernie go?” Harry asked eventually, that familiar monster roaring in his chest.

Ginny leaned even further into his side. “He got an owl, had to go into the office.” Her hair brushed against his neck and he caught a whiff of her comforting flower scent that hadn’t changed since sixth year.

“Did you want him to stay?” He asked her, the darkness giving him some sort of courage.

She shook her head. “Not really. He wasn’t as bad as the other’s, but he’s not really who I want,” she said, voice low and husky.

Finally, she sighed deeply and pulled away, pulling her knees under the skirt of her dress and into her stomach.

“At least he seemed to want me,” she mumbled, and Harry took a deep breath, tired of always waiting for the right moment.

“I’ve never not wanted you, Ginny.”

Amazingly, the words didn’t sound weak or pathetic out loud like they did in his head. Instead, all he felt was relief.

The sound of a sharp intake of breath was the only indication that he had been heard. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he looked up at Ginny. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You want me?” She asked finally, incredulously.

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Watching your mum parade those boys in front of you has been a special kind of hell for me Gin. I miss you.” They aren’t the most eloquent words, but they are the ones he had.

“Then why didn’t you say anything, you stupid arse?” Ginny finally spit out and Harry let out a choke of laughter.

“I’m an idiot?” He told her helpfully and she shook her head, a fond smile on her face.

“Can you come closer Harry? I need to smack you,” she laughed, and Harry obliged, scooting back towards her until there was no space between them, his body tingling in anticipation.

“So no more set ups from your mum?” He asked, moving his face toward hers so close he could feel each breath she took, could count the freckles on her face from just the soft light of the stars.

“Harry I can confidently tell you I will no longer let my mum dictate my romantic life from here on out,” she giggled and Harry fought the smile that threatened to climb up his cheeks.

“Harry,” she said, drawing his attention back to her and her lips.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never not wanted you to kiss me,” she said before closing the small gap between them, her soft, sweet lips under his. Suddenly all the pining and scowling became worth it as he rolled them over, her body under his, molding to each other as if reminding him that they’ve done this before.

As he kissed and kissed her, lips trailing down her neck, he sent a silent thank you to whatever work emergency had claimed Ernie’s attention. Tonight and forever Ginny was his. And he set about showing her over and over.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

“Ernie Macmillan? Really?” Ron took a noisy bite of his biscuit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Ronald,” Molly tutted, waiving her wand so the corresponding feather duster would wipe down the windows properly.

“I just want you to know that I know what you did,” Ron shrugged, gesturing out the window Molly was cleaning to where Harry and Ginny were clearly engaged in some unwholesome activities.

Molly smiled at the image the pair made before closing the curtain and turning back towards her youngest son.

“Don’t you have your own home?” He lifted his hands in surrender before leaving the room. Molly watched as he disappeared from view. Really, what was she supposed to do? Let them pine away for each other forever? No, she did the right thing. She did feel a little bad poor Ernie would have to go all the way into work to find that emergency cauldron bottom situation wasn’t quite the emergency that ministry owl had made it seem. But the boy had gotten a home cooked meal for dinner so he surely made out alright.

Smiling one more time to herself, a very satisfied Molly Weasley set about cleaning dishes, brainstorming how she might next get Percy to dinner along with that nice young man Oliver Wood.

#hinnyfic #hinnyficfest #runningwrites

138 notes · View notes

ultralovedeluxe · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Josuke with prompts #5 and #69

Hey everyone! This was requested by @mochimizuki121. I apologize for this taking so long, I’ve never written for Josuke and I think he came out a bit ooc, I hope this came out nicely though. Requests are still open!

‘Just what do you think you’re doing? Put that phone down!’

‘They thought they could tear us apart, so I had to put a stop to them!’

Warnings: 18 year old Josuke, female reader, yandere behaviors, mentions of violence?, non/dub con, nsfw towards the end.

Cherry blossoms are meant to symbolize good fortune and represent love. Love should be the primary emotion you should feel when under a cherry blossom tree. So when you asked Josuke to meet you under a cherry blossom tree near the school, Josuke was ecstatic. Why else would his lovely, little girlfriend ask him to meet under a cherry blossom tree? To Josuke, these meanings had to be true. He was a firm believer.

You, however, not so much.

In fact, cherry blossoms have a double meaning. Cherry blossoms also represent death or the end of something. And sadly, this was the only meaning accurate to you.

“So [first]-chan, why did you invite me here? Is it something important?” Josuke could hardly contain his excitement, it had to be great. Was he finally going to meet your parents? Were you both going on a date together? Were you finally going to let him-

“Josuke, I’m glad you came, and yes it is very important..” you said trying not to just yell at your pompadour-haired boyfriend. His puppy-dog expression was starting to get to you, and in all realness, making this a lot harder than it was supposed to be.

“So, what is it babe? C’mon you can’t keep me waiting, I want to know!”

You grit your teeth, god this really is going to be hard. You almost feel nauseous in doing so. You are going to wound his boyish pride so bad right now, but you know it’s for the best, hell it was for your well-being.

“Please just listen to me Josuke. I..I want to break up” you said, trying not to mumble any words; you wanted him to hear you loud and clear, even though to some extent it hurt you too. It just had to be done. You couldn’t be in this relationship anymore.

Josuke wanted to believe that you said something else, you HAD to have said something else. You didn’t want to break up with him, you were just confused right? No..he swore he’d done everything right. He was a good boyfriend, he asked his mom for advice, he asked Jotaro for advice, where or what did he do wrong? Josuke tried hard to let his lip wobble at the news, let alone cry.

“Was it something I did? Please tell me, is it because I’m overbearing? I promise I’ll try my best to be better! I-I’ll get rid of my video games if I have to, please [first] don’t leave me-” Josuke pleaded with you, but you couldn’t have this conversation much longer. “I’m sorry Josuke, we can still be friends..I just can’t be with you anymore, I hope you understand” you said walking away from the tree and Josuke. It hurt, but you knew this was the right descion. At the moment though, you didn’t want to face the male; you wanted to avoid him as much as possible.

Josuke however, felt devastated, betrayed almost. How could you have ended your relationship you had? He had been a good boyfriend right? Did you find someone else? No, you couldn’t have, you loved him, you were just getting confused at the moment. You must be getting brainwashed or something. He felt Crazy Diamond manifest behind him, and he gripped his fist. He will get to the bottom of this. He will find out who gave you the idea that he was a bad partner. You just don’t understand how much he loves you. ‘No, please don’t leave me [first]’

“So did you do it?”

You looked over to your classmate, Rikka asked almost desperately. “Of course I did, but I still feel awful about it..Is- Is it true that he’s a thug?” you mumbled sensing a feeling of dread just thinking about it. You loved Josuke, but if what your friend was saying was true, you couldn’t possibly stay with him much longer. In fact, Rikka wasn’t the only girl who warned you about Josuke. “Come on [first]-chan, haven’t you noticed the way he dresses? Only delinquents dress like that. Not to mention the hair” she told you, mumbling the final part (since it’s known that Josuke hates when people insult his hair). You shook your head, “Thank you so much for telling me Rikka-chan, I don’t know what I’ve done if my parents caught me dating a thug. But..I really did love Josuke..”

Rikka gave you an an assertive smile, “Don’t worry [first], there’s other guys here in school. I’m sure there’s at least two who have a thing for you, you’ll get over Higashikata-san eventually, now come on it’s almost time for class” she said picking up her bag and walking towards the lockers. You smiled and nodded in response. “I’ll meet you there just let me get my pen, I left it in my purse” you said walking towards her. “You’re always so forgetful!” Rikka joked.

Not far from the lockers, Josuke was standing there, listening to every word that came from your mouth. “Oi Okuyasu, what’s that girl’s name?” Josuke asked his fellow stand user and friend. “That’s Minamino Rikka, I think I have a few classes with her. She’s kinda cute no?” Okuyasu said walking back to the classroom they were in. ‘Not as cute as my [first]-chan’ Josuke thought as he tried to contain his anger. He wasn’t completely mad at you, he was more mad at that ‘Rikka’ for getting those sick thoughts into your head. He wasn’t a ‘thug’, he was a good guy! In fact he was the perfect boyfriend for you. He was sure you knew it too, you were just getting fed lies. Maybe he’d have to teach that girl a lesson for messing with his darling..

“I heard you dumped Josuke, he’s a drag huh. You should go out with a real man. So how about it [first]-chan? Wanna go on a date with me?”

You knew who this was. This was Fungami Yuya, he wasn’t exactly a heartthrob, but he did have his fair share of fans. However, you knew he wasn’t good news, despite how charming he looked. You had heard from Josuke that he was a motorcycle gang member, right off the bat you have to refuse. “I’m sorry Yuya, we don’t know each other very well, and besides-” you tried to just waltz your way out of the situation, but Yuya persisted. “Please [first]-chan, give me a chance, I genuinely want to ask you to-”

“What the hell are you doing near my girlfriend?!”

You looked back at the entrance of the classroom to see Josuke, already fuming with anger. You never liked it when Josuke got angry, you always felt like whoever the person he was getting angry at was in complete danger. Not to mention you always feel like there’s another presence in the room when he does get angry. “Josuke please!-”

Soon, the space between Josuke and Yuya got smaller, “Are you asking for a fight? What gives you the right to talk to my girlfriend that way? She’s taken. Plus where are your groupies anyway?” Josuke asked, but at this point, he was close to just beat him up with Crazy Diamond.

“I’ll handle this doll-” Yuya muttered to you while placing a quick kiss on your forehead, before going back to facing Josuke. “Josuke, what’s the deal? You two aren’t together anymore, everyone knows it-”

“Don’t let history repeat itself Yuya. You know what I can do to you. You wouldn’t want to go back to the hospital again would you?” by that point, Crazy Diamond had already manifested itself behind Josuke, and it’s glare was quite terryfying. Yuya gulped at the sight of the other stand, before leaving the classroom you were in. You wanted to leave the room as well, but before you could even get up from your seat on your own terms, Josuke had already dragged you across the hall.

“Josuke! Let me go! You’re hurting me! I thought we weren’t together anymore!” you squeeled trying to get someone’s attention. It didn’t seem like anyone would hear you though, because Josuke had shoved you into one of the unused bathroom stalls. “Shut your whore mouth. We are together, you didn’t mean to break up with me right? It was just that people kept lying to you about me..” he said in a rather harsh tone before quieting down. Truth be told, you were scared. This wasn’t the Josuke you fell in love with. “I don’t.. I-you hurt me [first]. When you broke up with me, I was heartbroken. But when I found out that Rikka and those other girls were feeding you lies, I knew I had to protect you. They tried to tear us apart, so I put a stop to them” Josuke said holding you in place.

“What the hell are you talking about? What did you do to them?” actually, you didn’t want to find out. Right now you had to get away from Josuke. You kicked him below the belt and ran from the bathroom. You didn’t even know where you were running to, as long as it was away from Josuke, you felt safe. You locked yourself in a gym closet, you just had to buy some time. There was only a few more minutes before school ended, you just had to be patient. You pulled out your cellphone and tried to dial your mother’s phone number.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? Put that phone down now! Now you’re seriously going to get it” you heard Josuke right across from you. How did he find you so quickly? You were sure you had locked the door. It doesn’t matter now because your phone was snatched from your hands by none other than your ex-boyfriend. Although you knew it was useless, you tried to crawl away because panic and fear ran thorough your mind.

“Why are you trying to run away from me [first], I’m just doing this because I love you so much. How about I show you how much I love you” Josuke said holding you by the hips, getting you closer to him. You tried to release yourself from his grasp, “No! Josuke please I don’t want this! I don’t want this relationship! Please!” you tried to reason with him. but it seems you made him even more angrier. “I really wanted you to enjoy this, but I guess you want a punishment instead..” he growled making you face him. This really wasn’t the Josuke you once loved, this was a monster. He then used Crazy Diamond to rip open your clothes..

Loud moans and gasps filled the small closet you and Josuke where in. You were fully naked, while he had his pants down. Josuke left red marks on your hips from where his nails kept digging into your skin. You felt drool drip down your mouth as Josuke kept thrusting into you at a inhuman speed. “You see..this is why you shouldn’t try to break up with me. I know you still love me. You won’t ever leave me after this” Josuke groaned into your ear while kissing your neck roughly. You only moaned in response, you felt like if he didn’t stop now, you were going to pass out. You wanted to hate him, oh how desperately you wanted to hate him. However, there was no denying how good he’s making you feel. “Josuke..please I’m close” you gasped as you clinged onto him. “Yes! Yes [first] let it all out! Let me know how good I made you feel!” He said, his thrusts getting more sloppy and impatient.

Not even a few moments after, you climaxed, with Josuke following soon after. You were gently placed on the floor by none other than Josuke. You were completely exhausted, you just wanted to go home. “You were amazing [first], I hope you remember this moment. Don’t ever run from me okay?” he said laying next to you. He placed one final kiss on your lips.

“I love you..”

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere josuke #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere josuke higashikata #jjba imagines #josuke higashitaka #yandere headcanons #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo x reader #josuke x reader #yandere josuke x reader

265 notes · View notes

aftokrvteira · 3 years

Text

night out (m)

pairing: eren yaeger/jaeger x fem!reader warnings: nsfw, drugs, cheating, sexual intercourse. word count: 2.8k

summary: you and eren go out as friends because your boyfriend is out of town. it’s all pretty innocent but there’s some unresolved sexual tension between you too. why not solve it?

“You look nice” he says when you close the car door. You smile, putting the seatbelt on, feeling proud of your wardrobe choice. It’s the first time he’d said something nice to you since you met him.

“Thanks, it’s a new dress” you say, getting your phone out of your bag to text your boyfriend and tell him you’re about to go to bed. You feel guilty for lying to him, but you know how he is. He would’ve lost it if you knew you were going out with Eren, even if it was an innocent outing because you two were just friends. You were bored and wanted to do something new with your saturday night. It wasn’t like you didn’t like to text with your boyfriend while he was away visiting his family but you were always the kind of girl who liked to keep her weekends to party. That’s why you texted Eren and you were pleased to see that he delivered a positive answer.

“Oh, so I’m the first who gets to see you in it?” he had that shit-eating grin you despised so much. It makes him look an asshole. Like a very attractive asshole. You roll your eyes and he laughs “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

“So, what do you want to do?” you ask, putting your phone away “I was thinking of having a couple beers at the bar that’s near the school and then go to a club that I’ve dying to go to” Eren says that anything would be fine and he starts driving to your first destination. He lets you choose the music and you immediately play your party playlist, feeling excited about it. It’s been almost a month since the last time you had the chance to go out. Having a boyfriend was kind of restraining.

“So... for how long will he be away?” Eren ask. You’re busy moving your shoulders to the rhythm of the music and didn’t bother to stop to answer.

“He’ll be back next friday” you say “He asked me if I wanted to go with him but... I don’t know, I don’t think I’m ready to meet his family” Eren raised his eyebrows “What? We’ve been dating for like six months” he laughs again and shakes his head.

“I was really surprised when you texted me, to be honest” he shrugs “I’ve heard that you’ve been quite unavailable these days, last time I ran into your friends and they told me that you weren’t feeling okay”

“Oh, so you ask about me?” you smile, wiggling your eyebrows at him “It was movie night. I had my period. Jean always stays at my apartment to take care of me”

“I see” Eren stays quiet for a second and then just turns up the volume of the music. This doesn’t bother you because your playlist is pure fire and you have this feeling of freedom that seemed dormant inside of you. You just want to go out and have some fun. It will be your secret.

When you two walk into the bar you feel like you’re home. You’ve always loved that saturday night feeling, where everyone is relaxed and excited for what’s to come. You grab Eren’s wrist to guide him to your favorite spot: right next to the terrace window. It has a nice view, it’s closer to the bathroom and to the bar and waiters have to walk by that spot quite often. It had everything. You sit down and immediately ask for a round of beers.

“So, Eren... tell me about your life. I haven’t see you around lately.”

“We’re close to finals week, I’ve been trying to save my ass from spending another summer at school” he answers, taking out his lighter to open his beer. It’s a trick that amuses you, almost as much as the way the neon lighting makes Eren’s inked forearms look so enticing. Without a word he takes your beer and opens it too, with the same trick “Not all of us can be ass-kissers.”

“Fuck you” you say, rolling your eyes, taking a long shot from your beer. It tastes bitter and it’s amazing. You realize how long has been since you had a beer. Eren smiles and clinks his bottle with yours.

You like hanging out whit him. Eren’s funny and is always on board with your ideas. He’s also a jerk and a fuckboy but that was the reason you kept you distance from him when you met him in high school. He was your crush at the time and you were not the only one. You decided it was best to just be his friend and avoid being hurt. Maybe that’s why your friendship has lasted up until now.

The more beers you drink you start to feel more and more relaxed. The music is fire and you have that tingly feeling on your skin that warns you that you’re on the verge of being tipsy. You even dare to share a smoke with Eren, passing the cigarrette over the table in between sentences. The conversation is interesting and fun, Eren knows exactly what to say to make you laugh and you’re enjoying yourself to the fullest.

“I’m ready to go to the club” you say “I’m drunk enough to dance.”

This time, when you’re walking out of the bar you feel Eren closer to you, you feel his warm hand on the lower part of your back, guiding you through the groups of people at the bar. You like the sensation so you just let him be. it’s fine. He’s your friend, he’s trying to keep you from falling or tripping.

When you get to the club you touch up your make up and decide to leave your jacket in his car. You feel the cold night air against your warm skin and the sensation causes chills to run down through your body. You wrap your hands around Eren’s arm while you two wait to get inside and can’t help but notice the muscles and the tattoos. His sun-kissed skin is smooth and by being close to him you get a hint of his musky scent, a mixture of smoke and cologne that you find quite intoxicating. His tattoos are dark and mysterious, all of them designed by himself.

Eren’s POV

While we wait I’m trying not to think inappropriate things about her. Since she took her jacket off the first thing i noticed was that she wasn’t wearing a bra, judging by the way her nipples perked up through the fabric of her white dress. It was a cold night, it was normal, but she was being so...tempting. And I knew it wasn’t because she wanted to be, it was just the way she was. Always a temptation, always forbidden and out of my reach. She was right there next to me, attracting the gazed of almost every guy we walked by and completely unaware of it. She just wanted to go to a club and dance and I was the one she chose to do that.

It was the first time I was actually grateful for Jean’s decision to go the fuck away for so long. That motherfucker was and idiot but he was also very, very lucky.

I place my hand on her back again and I lick my lips when I give her a gentle push to make her walk inside the club when our turn came.

We’re suddenly surrounded by colorful lights , loud music and a sea of people dancing and drinking. I look at her and her eyes lit up. She grabs my hand once again and immediately drags me to the dance floor. She quickly catches the attention of a waiter and asks him for a round of shots for both of us. He came back and he have me the tiny glass with a smile.

“Let’s have a good night” she says and drinking all of it in one go. I did the same and as the burning liquid went down my throat an idea came to my mind.

“Have you ever tried ecstasy?” I ask, leaning down to speak in her ear. I can smell her sweet perfume. She shakes her head but she doesn’t seem disgusted by the idea. I can’t help but smile “You wanna try?”

“What?”

“I have some” I say, taking out the pack of cigarettes and shaking it in front of her. She keeps quiet for a few minutes. I know she’s thinking about it, that she’s thinking about him and what he would say. I narrow my eyes and, to encourage her, I take out one of the pills and show it to her. It’s small and discrete. I place it on my tongue and swallow it. “To have a good night.”

She doubts it for a moment but then just sighs and smiles at me, extending her hand. I take the pill on my hand.

“Say ‘ah’“ I murmur. She blushes but still, sticks out her tongue for me and the sight of it gives me enough to think about the million sinful things I want to do to her. I put the pill on her wet pink tongue and she swallows it.

“Let’s do this.”

***

I don’t know how much time has passed. Everything seems blurry and distant for me. My attention is reserved just for her and the way she’s dancing. Her skin is glistening due to the sweat. The straps of her dress hang loose on her shoulders. It’s like the music is adapting to her and her moves and I’m hypnotized by the way she moves her hips, how her hands caress her torso and her legs, going up and down.

I place my hands on her hips and it’s like my fingers are burning the fabric of her dress under my touch. I would kill to feel her skin against mine. She seems to like the contact and I go ahead, caressing her waist and abdomen, adapting to her rhythm. I couldn’t help but sigh when she starts to rub her ass against my crotch. She’s getting closer, dancing against me, placing her hands over mine, guiding my fingers all over her body. She lets me touch her breasts over her dress and I squeeze them. I hear her moan and I can’t help it anymore. I make her turn around and as soon as our eyes meet, I kiss her.

Your POV

You know that this is wrong...Isn’t it? Eren’s lips feel amazing and taste amazing. His tongue is soft against yours and you can feel how his hand is in your ass, reaching down until he grabs the hem of your dress and just lifts it and gives you a spank. It’s dark enough and you like it. You like the way he’s touching you, as if he was desperate. You can’t think of anything else but him.

When he pulls apart from the kiss his eyes have a dark spark and you shudder, realizing how wet you are all of a sudden. He takes your hand and this time he’s the one dragging you through the sea of drunk people to the back of the club. He ignores the people in the bathroom and just shoves you inside on of the stalls, locking the door behind him. Almost immediately he kisses you again, pressing you against the plastic division. He bites your lip and you moan, loving the roughness of his touches. You’ve always loved it rough.

“Suck my dick” he whispers in your ear, before licking your neck. You don’t ask questions. You manage to kneel in front of him and he’s already unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Soon enough his erection is right in front of your face and your mouth water from the sight of it. It’s long and hard when you take it in your hand. The tip is red and swollen and it’s already shining, covered in pre cum. You sigh as if you were falling in love with his cock before giving it a lick from the base to the tip. Eren groans, leaning back and you smile. You give him a couple of strokes before taking it in your mouth. It tastes sweet for some reason and you giggle because of it. Some tears start to accumulate in your eyes when his dick reaches the back of your throat. Saliva drips down from your lips and your chin as you suck his cock. Your eyes meet his and you just love the sight of his face. He’s biting his lip and some loose strands of brown hair are framing his features. Eren looks hot and filled with desire and it’s an image you want to keep in your brain.

“Do you like it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod and feel his hand caressing your cheek. Suddenly he tugs your hair to keep your head still and starts to fuck your mouth, thrusting harder every time. You tremble when his glans hits the back of your throat and tears run down your face, mixing with your saliva. You place your hands on his ass as you close your eyes “Oh, god you’re amazing... Such a cock-hungry slut... I could fuck your little face forever.”

He pulls away to let you breathe and you smile at him. His words are turning you on to a level you didn’t know you could. He tells you to stand up and pushes you against the wall once again.

“Turn around” he commands and you obey, immediately bending over because you know whats coming and your pussy throbs just with the thought. He lifts your dress to your waist and pulls down your panties. He gives you a spank and another, making you moan. He pulls apart your folds and you hear him make an amused sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and he smiles at you. “You’re really wet... Is it okay if I fuck you like this?” You nod, biting your lip. You don’t care about anything in that moment. You just want Eren to fuck you.

No warnings beforehand, he shoves his cock inside of you, filling you all the way up. You gasp. His hands are holding your hips firmly as he thrusts in and out of you, only letting go to spank you or to pull your hair. You barely have time to adjust to his dick and you can’t help but moan.

“Eren...Eren, fuck, go faster!” you plea, placing one hand on the wall to support yourself from falling. You bring the other one to your neglected clit, letting out a soft purr when you start stimulating it. It’s so swollen that you shiver every time you move your fingers against it. Your walls clench around Eren’s dick and he groans, moving faster and deeper. “Oh, fuck, I want you to cum inside!”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he asks, out of breath “You want me to fill you up, slut?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moan, your fingers moving frenetically over your clit, bringing you closer to the edge “I’m yours, Eren!”

He gasped and dug his nails into your skin, giving you a last thrust. You feel how his hot seed fills your insides and the feeling alone makes you cum loud and clear. He pulls out and you feel semen dripping from your cunt to your leg. You keep massaging your clitoris, smearing his cum all over your pussy, still riding your orgasm. Eren pulls up your panties and gives you a little kiss on you lower back. You sigh and turn around, leaning against the wall. You can’t help but smile, even though you’re coming down from your high and guilt’s starting to build up.

Eren comes closer and gives you a kiss, a deep kiss but you pull away, ashamed. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“So...”

“This can’t happen again” you say and he nods. Its the first time you see him act this awkward. “We won’t talk about it, okay? This never happened.”

“Sure. It’ll be... our secret”

You kept quiet for a few moments, standing in front of each other. You wanted to blame it on the drugs and on the alcohol but...to be honest, you were into it. You enjoyed it. You’ve never orgasmed like that before, not even with Jean. You tried to compare them but it was impossible. Jean was nice and gentle, he tried to show you how much he loved you every time you had sex. Eren was like a predator, rough, dominant. Did you really had to choose?

“Do you want to go back to my place?” you ask. Eren gives you a confused look. “It’s still early. I have beers. I don’t like to be alone.” you notice that he’s thinking about it. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah”

“Let’s go then.”

#eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut

168 notes · View notes

fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My Two in a Million

Hold your horses, I finally finished writing something! I know it's probably not what you expected and it's definitely not one of my best works, but I feel that if I don't post it now, I will never get out of the slump.

So apologies in advance and I hope you enjoy it a bit anyway! <3

Thank you so much for being so patient with me :)))

Thanks to @knittingdreams @donttouchmycarrots @inloveoknutzy and @asunshinepuff for all your help, love you guys <3

Ao3

Characters belong to @lumosinlove !

Chapter 1

“Lily, why the hell are we out here?” Logan asked, wrapping his arms around himself. He glanced around the hall at the other party guests that were milling about—all of whom had costumes more fitting for the cool weather—and grumbled as he leaned against the wall, a hiss escaping his lips when the cold material touched his bare back.

Lily glanced at him, amused. “It’s not my fault you chose to show off your body when it’s fucking freezing outside.”

“No, it’s Finn’s. He had it stuck in his head that we just had to wear sexy costumes,” Logan rolled his eyes; though he couldn’t deny that he’d been more than happy when he first saw Finn that night. His breath had completely left his lungs when the redhead had stepped out of the bathroom wearing a Spartan costume, smiling like a little kid at his fake sword, his firm abs on display, a familiar trail of red hair disappearing under the wide belt and—

Logan gulped and tried to remember that he was at a party full of people, willing his mind not to think about how he’d felt. Or about how much he was dying to get Finn out of that damn skirt.

“Still, that doesn’t explain why we’re out here instead of inside, where it’s warmer and I could be in my half-naked boyfriend’s arms.”

“Just bear with me, ok? It shouldn’t be long now.”

Logan sighed; he knew better than to try to argue with his friend. “So how’s your business going?” he asked instead.

“Oh, it’s great!” Lily replied, her face lighting up with a smile. “We received a shipment of rare books today, there’re a few that I’m sure Finn would love. I will separate a few—” she stopped in the middle of her excited explanation as she looked towards the elevators, her smile going wider. “Remus!” she yelled and, without another word, pushed against the wall to walk ahead.

Frowning, Logan grumbled and followed behind a moment later. Had she been waiting for someone? Perhaps this meant that he could go back inside and get out of the cold. Halfway there, he looked to see who Lily had called for, noticing two people waiting but focusing mainly on one of them as his eyes fell on a long set of legs. Damn, this guy is huge, he thought as his gaze wandered slowly up the dark ripped jeans and comfy looking jumper.

The guy jumped slightly and dropped some keys he was holding. Logan didn’t get to see the face under the mop of blond hair as he bent to pick them up, but noticed how red his neck was and chuckled softly.

Cute.

Then the boy straightened up and Logan almost choked on his laugh as their gazes locked. His eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen, like staring at an open sky, contrasting with the blush on his cheeks—whether from the cold or from embarrassment, Logan wasn’t sure. He seemed slightly guarded, which made Logan cock his head wondering why. As a few more seconds passed and he didn’t break eye contact, some of the tension left the boy’s shoulders, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a shy smile as he ruffled his hair, the gesture going straight to Logan’s gut.

Shaking his head, he focused on the floor as he reached Lily’s side. The man standing next to the blond—Remus, most likely—was talking with Lily, but Logan could barely process what they were saying in the middle of the turmoil that was his head. With great effort, he tried to keep his eyes down, but his gaze kept wandering back to blue.

He was pulled out of his musings when Lily placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted her head towards the tall guy who, Logan noticed, had his eyes now trailing down Logan’s arms. “Hi, I’m Lily and this is Logan,” she said with a smile.

The blond —Logan cursed himself for not catching his name— gave him a sheepish wave and another small smile, and Logan found himself returning it as a tingling sensation spread through his body, starting from his mouth and going down to his toes.

“Salut! Are you guys joining the party?” he asked hopefully.

“Ah, sorry, but well… we don’t really have costumes,” Remus replied and the other guy turned to look at him with a scowl. It looked like he wanted to argue with his...friend? Logan had no idea what they were. Or who they were, for that matter.

But he kinda wanted to.

“Costumes are not mandatory. C’mon, I promise you’ll have fun,” Lily turned pleading eyes to Remus.

The newcomers glanced at each other, an unspoken conversation being held between them. Taking a sip from his drink, Logan stared at the floor again and, when he looked back up, the blond had his head tilted down, his bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and begging and blue, and it was so fucking adorable that Logan almost spat out his rum.

He turned to the side and coughed discreetly just as Remus gave in and Lily started happily guiding them into the apartment.

All the way there, Logan kept wanting to ask for the guy’s name as they stole glances at each other, but he didn’t want to show just how little attention he’d been paying. Or maybe where his attention had been. Once inside, they were welcomed by the much needed heat, low lights and a playlist that was without a doubt put together by Talker. Natalie, Marlene and a few other people were dancing to the beat, but Logan knew where he would find most of the gang: in the living room, exactly where they’d left them.

The thought of who would be waiting for him there felt like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face, making him falter in his step. What the fuck had he been thinking? Frowning, Logan hid his tightly closed fists inside his pockets, waiting a few steps back while Lily filled two cups with some orange beverage and handed them over to Remus and his companion.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, his sight landed on Finn playing against Thomas and Kasey, his wild auburn hair falling into his eyes, completely focused on the task at hand as he tapped buttons and whooped when he managed a combo.

Finn.

Logan made a bee-line for him, desperate to feel his boyfriend’s warmth, have him close after the jarring emotions that had assaulted him just now. He also left his cup at the table for good measure—maybe he’d been drinking too much.

Burrowing into his boyfriend’s side, he tried to leave as little space between them as possible, which made Finn chuckle and shiver slightly.

“Honey, you’re freezing,” he said as he nudged him with his head.

“Blame Evans. She forced me to stay out so she could wait for her friend.” His thoughts went back to the other person that had come with them, but he avoided the urge to look for him.

“Friend? Who was it?” Finn asked, not taking his eyes away from the screen as suddenly James’ character stood still and they started losing. “Pots, focus!”

“Someone named Remus? I have no idea.”

“Wait, no no no!” Finn screamed and punched the buttons harder, but James was not helping at all and they were both knocked out. “Oh, come on!” Everyone laughed as Finn threw the controller on the table and turned to playfully glare at Lily, who was sitting on James’ lap. “Lily, what did I tell you? Don’t distract him when he plays on my team!”

“Stop crying and pay up, O’Hara!” Kasey grinned and high-fived Thomas.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just lucky Lily was on your team as well,” Finn mumbled but threw the twenty bucks in their direction before turning to Logan with a smile. “Hey baby.”

Next thing Logan knew, there were lips pressed against his. He smiled into it, bringing a hand up to brush Finn’s hair out of his face, letting the feel of his body ground him again.

As they pulled apart, he caught the blond guy staring, their eyes meeting only for a second before the boy looked away. His jaw was set in a hard line, so different from the expressions he’d shown Logan out there, and suddenly he was flooded with guilt at the pull that kept tugging in two different directions.

He felt completely thrown off. His feelings for Finn were as strong as ever, but he was still very intrigued by this other person. There was something that made him want to talk with him more, ask about his life, check if those long arms could envelop him whole as it seemed. To just go over there and introduce him to Finn.

What kind of shitty person was he?

“Everyone,” Lily said then, grabbing everyone’s attention, “these are Remus and Leo. Remus is Sirius’ new neighbour, so be nice to them!” She pierced them with her best and-if-you-don’t glare that all of them knew well, making some of the guys gulp.

Leo, Logan thought. It fit him, somehow.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Remus said.

“Hello,” Leo smiled brightly at whoever was sitting to their right and Logan felt Finn freeze for a second as the corner of his mouth lifted in a silly smile.

Well, at least he knew Finn found Leo attractive as well.

His boyfriend turned to him, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve run into that Remus guy in the hall before, but who is that?”

“His friend?” Logan said, trying not to sound too interested. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like they live together.”

“Yeah, no, I mean… I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Logan frowned. “I don’t think I saw him in the building before. I would remember someone that tall.”

“Oh baby, are you grumpy cause you hurt your neck when you looked at his face?” Finn teased as he petted Logan’s hair.

“Shut up, I’m not that much shorter than you.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, turning his face away from Finn.

The stupid ass laughed and kissed his temple, which admittedly always managed to make Logan melt and lean into him, but he still made a ‘hmph’ sound, pulling another laugh out of Finn.

While both of them were distracted, the rest of the guys started setting everything up to play a new game which Remus seemed interested in. And then, out of nowhere, Sirius was asking Remus to play with him.

Finn and Logan looked at each other, wondering what the hell Sirius was up to. It was rare for him to want to play with some random guy, especially when most of the people in the room already had a hard time beating him. They even had a bet going about who would be the first to get five wins over Pads and so far, no one had managed it. Remus had absolutely no chance against someone that did this for a living.

But as it turned out, it was a very heated competition that had everyone watching closely. Logan wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen Sirius like that. He could tell he was focused, yes, but he was also excited, even if he was hiding it on the outside. In the end, Remus kicked Sirius’ ass.

“Yes!” both Remus and Leo yelled and then hugged, laughing. Leo put a hand on the back of Remus’ head and bumped their heads together. The gesture showed just how close they were, how comfortable they felt with each other, but what really had Logan’s attention was that wide, unbelievably happy smile that showed off his—

“Finn...dimples,” he whispered, though probably not as quietly as he should have, given the way Kasey snorted.

That in itself wasn’t a weird thing to say. Finn and Logan were open with each other. They talked about everything and had no secrets between them, because talking with Finn was as easy as breathing, and as vital too.

Logan trusted Finn. With his whole heart.

He knew he could talk to him about other guys that he found attractive and that Finn could do the same, ‘cause they weren’t possessive or so blinded by jealousy that they couldn’t separate things. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had a talk like that either.

This was different though.

It’d been a very long while since Logan had been struck like this. Probably since the first time he’d laid eyes on Finn; he’d had no words to describe the feeling at that moment either. But there was something about those blue eyes and the way he’d held Logan’s gaze, about that shy but steady demeanour. And that smile.

Fuck, that smile.

Logan didn’t even know him, and he already knew that he’d love that grin here or in any other universe. And just how fucking weird was that?

Maybe he could ask Leo to play a game with him next, get to know him, make him feel comfortable. But he couldn’t get his attention, Leo’s gaze kept evading him, and Logan felt something like dread at the possibility that Leo might be doing it on purpose.

He didn’t get much of a chance anyway. After a bit of teasing about Padfoot, Remus stood up to defend him before trailing off in the middle of his speech, a faraway look on his face. Then he rushed out of the room, leaving a tense silence behind and Leo staring helplessly after him.

Lily was the first one to approach him, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I… I will go check on him,” he smiled sadly and nodded to the room in general. “Thank you for inviting us.” And with that, he exited without a second glance back.

Logan wasn’t sure how he should feel about this kind of departure, or at the realisation that he might not see Leo again. Maybe it was a good thing; if his emotions could get stirred just by some glances, what would it be like if he actually got to know him?

Perhaps it was better to leave things as they were.

***

Shit shit shit shit.

It was late. Leo was so, so late.

He skidded around the corner and took the next hall at a light run, trying to avoid the other students, which luckily weren’t that many. Of course, he thought bitterly, that’s probably because other people manage to get to their own classes on time.

He still wasn’t sure what had happened, he was convinced he’d set his alarm for today, but clearly he hadn’t or he wouldn’t be running. His commute was quite long as it was, which meant that if he missed the train—like today—he was inevitably late unless a miracle happened.

Maybe he should really take Remus up on his offer to move in with him. It would also mean spending more time with his best friend, since between attending classes, doing homework and the time it took to get back home, he didn’t have many opportunities to see him lately. But there was no way Leo could afford that flat, and he didn’t want to take advantage of Remus.

Finally, he reached the door to his classroom and, after allowing a few seconds to let his breathing go back to normal, he went in as quietly as possible. The Professor had her back turned to him, so he quickly scanned the room and sat at the nearest empty seat, at the very back.

Sighing in relief that he didn’t seem to have missed too much, he opened his bag and took out his copy of Pride and Prejudice and the rest of his stuff. He was in such a hurry to catch up with the class that he knocked his pencil off the table, sending it rolling on the floor. Cringing at the sound it made, Leo bent to pick it up, only to find that another hand was already there.

He leaned back, blinking at the hand offering his pencil back, then followed the lines of the arm under the green, long-sleeved shirt, up to a familiar face and there Leo had to do a double-take.

Straightening up, he raised his eyebrows, making Finn laugh, his smile lifting to the side as he waved the pencil between them.

“Um, thanks,” Leo whispered, taking it and turning back to his notes with a frown.

Had he and Finn always shared a class together?

Since this was a course he was only taking for credits, Leo didn’t know many faces here and was usually so enthralled by the lecture that he didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings.

Finn hadn’t shown any signs that he’d recognised him at the Halloween party a week ago either. Though, if he was being honest, Leo had especially tried to avoid looking at them after he’d seen him hugging and kissing Logan.

Ugh, that memory… it’d been on his mind more than he cared to admit.

Leo didn’t want to think about how stupid he’d felt that night. He’d been shocked the first time he saw Logan, how his costume showed off his shoulders and thighs, the way he carried himself, the slight pout of his lips as he made his way towards them.

He didn’t want to think about how Logan’s eyes had started travelling up his body, making him panic and act like a fool. Or how despite that, Logan had also seemed a bit shy and fucking adorable and damn it, Leo had thought he was interested in him. But then they’d gone into the flat and Logan all but ran to Finn’s side, and Leo was left feeling like the biggest idiot in the whole damn world.

He hadn’t stayed for long after that. Worried as he was about Remus, he’d followed him shortly after he’d left and hadn’t talked with anyone else at the party. He’d thought that’d be the end of it. It was weird now to sit next to Finn when he’d been checking his boyfriend out just a few days ago.

The sound of a pencil tapping against wood brought Leo back from his musings. He peeked to the side and caught Finn with his chin perched in one hand, the other playing with the thin stick at a high speed. Leo followed the movement, back and forth, back and forth, and then up as Finn raised his hand and brought the pencil to his mouth, the bottom end tugging his pink lip down and then letting go.

The rest of the room quieted down as Leo stared. There was something about the way Finn held the pencil in his long fingers, how the sun coming in from the window seemed to hug him, the specs of dust dancing in the air by his head. How his eyes looked brighter and the strands in his hair lit up like fire.

Finn looked like warmth.

Something like a chill ran down Leo’s back and he quickly averted his eyes.

Though he couldn’t keep them away for long. Apparently, Finn was one of those people that couldn’t sit still and, now that Leo’d noticed, he couldn’t ignore every little movement coming from him, his bouncing leg, how he shifted in his seat and that damn tapping again.

He tried to pay attention to class, he really did, but he was so aware of the boy sitting just a few inches away, that his eyes kept going back to him and all those little movements.

Not able to take it any longer, Leo leaned in and placed a hand on top of Finn’s, feeling him going still under his touch. “Stop it,” he whispered, their eyes locked. The other boy didn’t say anything, just glanced between Leo’s eyes and their joined hands.

Blushing, Leo pulled away and tried to focus on the front of the room, the heat from Finn’s hand still tingling at the tip of his fingers.

Stop this right now, Leo scolded himself. He has a boyfriend.

A boyfriend that he’d also felt attracted to. What the hell was wrong with him?

Determined to keep his mind out of troublesome boys, he managed to listen and take notes for about ten minutes. But then he felt eyes on him. He pretended not to notice as Finn kept stealing glances, no doubt trying to be inconspicuous about it, but, apparently, Finn was as subtle as a flying brick.

The thought tugged a smile out of Leo, who quickly schooled his expression back to one of polite interest. You just grabbed his hand out of nowhere, of course he’s staring, he sighed.

At the end of the class, the teacher wrote a list of things on the board and turned to face them. “This assignment will be the first big one you’ll have, and it will determine 10% of your score, so don’t slack off! Pair up before you go and remember, your deadline is in two weeks.”

There were a few groans at the prospect of having to do something in pairs, but everyone started gathering their things anyway and talking with each other, already forming their teams.

A nudge on his shoulder made Leo look to his left and then he had to fight the urge to jump back. Finn was leaning towards him, that crooked smile on his face again and, this close, Leo could see the freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, a light blush colouring his face when he realised Finn had said something but he hadn’t listened.

Finn’s head tilted a bit to the side, the other corner of his mouth going up too. “I said, do you want to pair up with me?”

“Oh,” was all Leo could reply. He imagined working together for hours, maybe alone in a secluded part of the library… How would he ever concentrate on their work if he couldn’t even pay attention in class when they were sitting next to each other? On the other hand, Finn seemed like a nice guy and surely Leo had enough self control to keep a cool head. Just because he was slightly attracted to him it didn’t mean that things would escalate further, especially not when he knew nothing could ever happen.

“I mean, if you already have someone—” Finn started when Leo didn’t reply for a while.

“No, no, sorry. Yeah, that would be nice,” he smiled.

“Sweet. Are you free right now? My next class is in the afternoon, so we could go back to my place and get started, if you want.”

“That…” Leo hesitated, but then hardened his resolve. He could be friends with Finn, right? It would be nice to make new acquaintances at school and there was always the chance that he might see him and Logan again at Remus’ building. He could forget about one or two silly crushes, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to do it.

“That sounds good.”

#fanfic #writing #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #polyamory #wolfstar

99 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering.

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.”

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak.

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation.

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family.

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them.

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully.

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved.

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end.

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise.

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm.

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight.

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine.

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings.

“Make me pancakes in the morning?”

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date.

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky.

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.”

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands.

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action.

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together.

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend.

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep.

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight.

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise.

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.”

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck.

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself.

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this.

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these.

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“You really think so?”

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him.

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again.

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be.

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good.

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.”

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.”

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing.

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her.

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.”

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question.

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?”

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there.

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him.

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire.

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s.

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright.

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks.

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly.

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin.

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway.

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers.

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place.

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep.

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes.

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer.

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly.

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

<333

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith

#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #disabled spencer reid

170 notes · View notes

hford0311 · 3 years

Text

Growing Up

"We're home, sweetheart." Your dad said as the last box was placed in the living room. There was a knock on the door. Y/d/n opened the door to see a woman with her husband and her possible child there. "Hi! Um...We're your neighbors across the hall." The woman started and introduced themselves: Ben, May, and their nephew Peter. At some point, you caught Peter's eye. "Hi," he exclaimed. The sudden loud child voice shocked you. You walked over to the door and shyly looked at the boy. "I'm Peter," the little boy spoke. "Go on, say hi," your dad encouraged and you quietly introduced yourself to the boy. "She's shy," Y/d/n explained. "We can hardly get this one to shut up," Ben laughed and picked up Peter. "There is a nice playground around the block...and if you need a babysitter or anything, you can come to us." He added. Your dad thanked them before they walked back to their apartment with Peter looking over Ben's shoulder. "Bye," He called with his eyes in your direction.

Years went on with Peter and you growing closer. It helped that, that the two of you were placed in the same classroom for many of your elementary school classes. Now, it was middle school and the two of you were seeing if you were in any classes together. "There, we have computer lab and English together!" Peter exclaimed, excited that you two weren't completely separated. You sighed in relief about it. "Good, I didn't want to be alone going into the new school," you stated.

The conversations about middle school filled Peter's bedroom. All of the nervousness and excitement about the new grade level being shared. Laughs and worries exchanged until your father came back and you had to return back across the hall. The lengthy hug given to each other as May and Y/d/n exchanged glances about the length. However, with Ben's recent passing, they never made a big deal of the casual affection.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 2 or 3, when Peter talked to you over the walkie-talkie that Aunt May gave to him and you the last Christmas. "Y/n, I just thought of something very important." A few seconds passed after you ignored it, wanting your sleep. "Y/n, answer, I need your help. Now!" You groaned and rolled your eyes as you answered his call. "What is it, Peter?" You sassed. "Is your dad asleep?" He questioned. "Probably, unlike me," you responded, still upset by being woken up. "Can you let me in, please?" Peter requested. You sat up in bed. "Better be a good explanation," you stated and walked towards the front door of your apartment quietly, avoiding large sounds to keep your father asleep. You slowly opened the front door, Peter already waiting there. "This better be good, Parker," you whispered as you let him in and followed him to your room.

"Here me out," he started, the pair of you sitting across from each other on your bed. "Why do you think I let you over, Peter?" You responded. "So you know how most people get into relationships in junior high?" He inquired, and you nodded for an answer. "Well," he paused, "I have never kissed someone before." You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Where is this going, Peter?" You investigated him. "Can I have a practice kiss with you," he words so fast and rushed together that you hardly understood him. You looked at him with confusion. "Y-you can say n-no," he stuttered. "What's the difference between a practice kiss and a regular kiss?" You said in a whisper. "Well," Peter hesitated, "a practice kiss doesn't really count as a first kiss." He explained, and you nodded along with him. "I guess that makes sense," you replied.

"Can we then- practice kiss," his voice got quieter during the second part of his request. You hesitated. "You said it wouldn't count right," he viciously nodded at your question. You pursed your lips together, then agreed to it. You leaned forward with your lips pressed together. "You got to close your eyes, Y/n." Peter told you. You huffed and closed your eyes. You heard him take a deep breath, then there was a quick meeting of your lips. You could have missed it if you didn't know it was coming. However, it did make your heart flutter and heat rise to your cheeks, as did Peter's. "Thanks," he whispered, "I guess I'll go back now." It was never spoke of again.

***

High school came with its own challenges. The pair of you slightly drifted from each other. Still, there were times when you'd come over after school and hangout. On fewer occasions, you'd stay the night and both of you would sleep in the same bed. You did it as kids, so the pair of you were used to it. The days of practice kissing were long over as well. It just wasn't the same as it had been when you guys were younger. After your sophomore year, you didn't share schedules with each other to see when you would be in classes together. You would simply find out that day.

Homecomings were incredibly painful for you. No, you didn't expect to be Peter's date to them, but you at least thought you would be in the same group together. You weren't. Even though seeing Peter happy with his date and the group of people he went with made you happy, it was also depressing at the same time. Sometimes just being around him was just different and underwhelming.

*Warning: Underage Drinking*

It took one party that you deiced to go to tonight that would change so much. You took deep breathes as you opened the door to whoever's house that the party was at. Drinks were flowing down your throat. "Hey, Y/n," you smiled back at Peter as he was getting a drink. Something about seeing him this time was just different. It sent you back to that night before the sixth grade when you practiced kissed and felt the fluttering of your heart.

The two of you actually talked for the first time in what felt like years for you. "I miss you, Peter," you admitted. Well, more like the alcohol was speaking for you. His face was surprised for a second before he gently smiled, "I miss you too, Y/n." He simply stated. Then, an idea popped in his head. "Hey, you want to get out of here?" You nodded with a grand smile in agreement.

The pair of you walked the streets, Peter being much more sober than you helped you stay on the sidewalks and off the streets. Eventually, the two of you ended up at the park the pair of you spent most of your time together in the elementary school. "Remember when we used to go on the swings all the time," you slurred as you clumsily sat on the swing. He chuckled and nodded, sitting to the one next to you. Suddenly, it felt like the world stopped. Not for any reason, it just stopped. "Peter," you turned your body towards him, twisting the metal chains on the swing, "why did you stop hanging out with me?" You were blunt with the question. Sober you would have never dared to ask, but drunk you desperately wanted to as much as sober you and was bold enough to ask.

He paused from the conversation. He couldn't answer. "I didn't want to stop," he quietly answered. You nodded but continued to push, "Why did you then?" He looked sadly back at you, deciding to crouch in front of you then. "I...was afraid that I would get too attached." He softly replied. You made a questioning face. "I-I know people that would want to hurt the people I know, people that I love, Y/n." Peter explained. "What do you mean? Why would people want to hurt you know?" He had no choice but to admit it now. "I'm Spider-Man." You quickly went from questioning to angered and quickly got up from the swing and walked in the direction of your apartment. "Fuck you, Peter Parker! If you hate me, just fucking say it!" You yelled and continued to storm away. You noticed yourself sobering up as your anger increased.

You weren't sure how you got home, but you did by yourself and managed to fall asleep, only to be woken soon after. "Peter to Y/n," that damn walkie-talkie you never turned off before. He repeated the phrase several times before you groaned and answered. "Leave me alone, Parker," you sassed and dropped the talkie on the floor. "Please, let me explain." He begged. He repeated your names and begged countless times more. Eventually, you gave him and let him in your apartment. You both sat like many times before with you both across from each other. At first, during his explanations, you denied him and kept telling yourself that he was lying. Then, he unzipped his backpack that he brought with him. The suit inside it. "You can't tell anyone." He stated.

You were surprised, but your exhaustion masked him. However, you remembered the other secret the two of you kept in your bedroom before. "Just like practice kissing, I will never tell anyone." He looked up at you shocked at the comparison. "Well, it's a bit more serious than that, but-" "Peter," he stopped talking and looked at you, "so when you saying earlier that you didn't want to get attached, you were saying that because..." you dragged some while speaking at the end. "Because," he cleared his throat, "I didn't- I don't - want them to hurt you, Y/n." You nodded. He shifted closer from you on the bed. "I don't want to lose you." Peter whispered and without knowing, he placed his forehead on yours. "You'll never lose me, Peter." You said back in the same hushed tone. "Don't say that," his voice getting desperate. Something took over.

You put both hands on either side of his face, closed your eyes, and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was much sweeter, meaningful, and longer than all of the practices kisses. You'd feel Peter's hands on your waist and get closer to you. Suddenly though, he pulled away. You looked back at him so desperate and confused. "We can't, I don't want to put you at risk." You started to get up from the bed and grab the backpack when you grabbed him and pulled you close. "I'm already at risk, you idiot, and I want to risk it all." You strongly stated. "Let's do it then." Peter replied.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland x reader #marvel fic #marvel cinematic universe #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman no way home #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader

66 notes · View notes

snlhostharry · 3 years

Text

romeo and juliet thing

harry styles x reader

“rivals” to lovers au

~3k words

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s to lovers challenge, congrats on your milestone!

a/n: amazing thing I realized while writing this: if you don’t put it off you can actually get it done in a reasonable amount of time... I will not be applying this to any other aspects of my life

You’ve come to enjoy album release parties. The first one you’d ever been to was the one for your first album, something someone from your publicity team has put together, which they did a decent job on but you did not have a good time. You were so nervous about the album coming out at all that you tried to use alcohol to calm your nerves, so you can’t really remember anything about it besides briefly throwing up in the bathroom. After that incident, you resolved not to drink before the party ever again and the next few you’d been too for other artists were actually fun in their own special ways.

By the time your second album is on the cusp on release, you’ve decided that you deserved it after the mess of writer's block you’d gotten in the middle of trying to write the thing, which had gotten so bad that you’d been called into a “special meeting” by management where they talked for what felt like hours about deadlines and marketing and basically tried to intimidate you into finishing faster. Something happened that allowed you to finish, it was an odd timing but it did help.

But that was ages ago, and you’re trying to focus on the party.

Which is easy enough, winding through the room talking to friends and investors, small talk is easy when you're trying to avoid something else. You’re talking to someone who’s name you are definitely not going to remember when this is over, when out of the corner of your eye you think you see someone who should definitely not be here. When you're finally released from said conversation you walk around the room, trying to find the intruder. You make your way all the way back to the bathroom, when suddenly the person you’ve been looking for slams right into you.

You’re far enough in a corner that you think no one can see you, which is good because if anyone got photos of the two of you together you would never hear the end of it. Harry Styles looks at you like he’s been caught in the act, the guilty expression not leaving his face even as he says, “Funny seeing you here.”

“At my own party?” You ask.

He licks his lips, trying to buy time to think of something to say. “Before you say anything,” He says, treading cautiously, “I was told to come here.”

You narrow your eyes, “By who?”

“Someone who works for me,” He replies, “Which means that someone who works for you gave them the information.”

You groan, “Of course they did, well at least make sure they get your good side when someone comes around to take photos.”

He smiles at that, “That’s every side, love.”

You shake your head, typing a message on your phone and quickly sending it, “It’s not but it’s cute that you think so.”

“Ignoring that little comment,” He says, seeing that your attention is divided between him and the person you seem to be very angrily texting. “It’s a good song you wrote, I’m excited to hear the rest of the album.”

“Oh,” You say, eyes widening, “Thank you..?” He tilts his head to the side gently, clearly his way of asking a question without actually asking a question. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize we were doing the thing where we pretend this is normal, and you are normally at my party.”

He laughs, “Didn’t know there was pretending involved.”

“I’m just so used to pretending to loathe you all day everyday that it's just so natural,” You say, and wait to see if he’ll get the joke.

He shrugs, “Really? I don’t think of you all that much.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can respond, one message sits unread underneath the ten you’d sent a few minutes earlier in rapid succession. Honestly? I invited him because I thought it would be fun. Of course that would be her rationale for not telling you about this very obvious stunt. Inviting your “rival” to your album release party is the perfect way to get your name in some headlines conveniently before the whole thing goes live, not like you need them but then again you do pay people to manage this kind of thing so they figure they should be doing something.

Oh yeah, Harry is supposed to be your “rival.” Think of some of the most infamous musical feuds of all time, and then knock it down a few pegs, and that’s where you would put yours and harrys. No one knows how it really started, something between a couple of twitter stans you’ve been told, but it suddenly gave each of your respective “people” the genius idea to milk that kind of exposure for all that it’s worth. The two of you have been pit against each other ever since the release of your debut albums, both self titled and both released within two weeks of each other. It hasn’t harmed either of you, being compared to the other, since you’re both pretty evenly matched in terms of talent.

It seems to only exist to make the occasional headline when the media remember that it “exists.” There have been headlines wondering if you’ve mentioned him in tik toks (you didn’t) in instagram posts (you were shading someone but not him) and if this whole thing started due to a one night stand that went the wrong way (definitely not).

You pull yourself back into the conversation, realizing you're being rude trying to think of something to respond to the text message. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Who are you rage tweeting over there?”

“Rage texting actually,” You say as another one comes through, “Fucking Melanie.”

“Unfortunate that her parents gave her that as a first name.”

You look up at him right away, “Not funny.” He laughs at his own joke anyway, “Melanie-” You say, holding up your phone for dramatic effect, “Is the head of the PR team, which is three people but anyway she is the one who seems to have coordinated this whole thing as a prank on me apparently.”

“It’s kind of funny,” He says.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m sure from your point of view it is.” Suddenly, someone comes rounding the corner near where the two of you are standing, and you freeze on instinct until they pass right in front of you without even looking in your direction. You realize that in a panic, you’d grabbed onto Harry’s hand and you decide that the two of you are going to have to finish this conversation somewhere else. “Come with me,” You sigh, leading him through the back of the room all the way to a small door that leads to an outside area at the back of the venue. You look at him again, his eyes glinting in the lights hanging above your heads. “What were we talking about?”

“Are you ever listening to me?” He asks, half joking.

“Don’t take it personally I’m only half listening to everyone,” You answer, “It’s called multitasking.”

“Seems tiring.”

“Better than being bored,” You say.

He looks at you for a second without saying and then shoves his hands in his pockets, “Why are we out here again?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s the game plan here, if you’re supposed to be seen here alone, seen with me, if I’m supposed to throw some kind of tantrum about it.”

“Besides the one your already throwing?”

You stop looking at your phone, “Ouch.”

“Punishment for continuing to ignore me.”

You turn off your phone and hold it in your hand gently, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening, but only if you’re going to say something that it’s some kind of thinly veiled insult,” You click your tongue, “You’re one of those guys who flirts by making fun of girls aren’t you?”

He thinks about it, “That’s a type?”

“Yeah, for people who are still mentally in high school.”

“So you wouldn't be interested then?”

You smile, thinking about it. Here’s the thing, despite the fact you very much have been pretending to loathe Harry Styles for two years just so you don’t slip it if someone asks, you recognise now that he is objectively attractive. The curls, and the eyes and the borderline too busy suit jacket he’s wearing (that both of you know costs an exorbitant amount) is all contributing to a look that is working for you at the moment. Also working in his favor? The semi enemies to lovers arc that you have going on in your head. “Despite the fact that I think that kind of flirting is beneath you, at this moment, it’s currently working for me.”

You take a step forward, closer to him, and suddenly your phone starts going off again. You check it briefly, trying very much not to ruin the moment but very cognizant of the fact that this is your party and people are going to start noticing if you're gone. You look down, see it’s not a life or death emergency and look right back at Harry. “Let me guess,” He says, “She wants you to kiss me for the cameras?”

You laugh, “No, but I’m going to do it anyway.” You kiss him, he leans in and you think that you might just seal the deal with harry styles out on this very nice patio when your phone rings again. You pull away when it’s clear that whoever it is needs you desperately, you look at the message, and groan, “Fucking Melaine.” You look towards the door and back at Harry, “Okay this is not over, but I have to go take care of stuff, so just meet me here after the whole thing is over and we will finish this thing.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” You smile, “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.” You pause, “Well maybe with the end if Melanie kills me with her bare hands for not talking to this producer she wants me to meet.”

“Later, then.”

You take him back to your apartment that night. And you invite him back the next day, and then the week and then a few more times after that. As much as you had meant it a joke at the time, the kind of forbidden lovers aspect of trying to keep this whole thing under wraps is sexy in a way that you would never admit outloud.

You’ve both become shockingly adept at sneaking in and out of apartments, neighborhoods (Harry has multiple priorities; why that is you're not exactly sure) and sometimes clubs if you're in a group and it’s dark enough that you think no one will see you.

“Should I climb up through the window?” You ask Harry as you stand in the backyard of his house in London, swimsuit clad even though you’ve gone nowhere near the pool.

Harry looks at you from his place on the ground next to you. He’d refused to get a chirhair to sit on, so he just sits on the ground, looking out over the pool and the fence. “Why would you do that?”

“Romeo and Juliet thing, didn’t he climb through the window to see her?”

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around your bare legs in some attempt to keep your attention on him, “I don’t know, never read it.” He laughs a little, “But I think if you did that some pap would catch you with your ass hanging out of my window.”

You laugh too, “And you would never fucking stop laughing at that.”

“No, I would not.”

You kick your leg out so that you almost hit him right in the face, “Fucker, I thought you were over being mean to me as a tactic. You have successfully romanced me.”

“Really? Because you’re staring at the house like you’re going to kill me for my money.”

“You’d put me in your will? That’s sweet,” You turn to him, pulling your sunglasses onto the top of your head.

“You are so hot right now.”

“It is hot,” You say, looking out at the clear sky, “What an observation.”

“You’re screwing with me.”

“Because I’m too tired to screw you at the moment,” You say, “Can’t we just enjoy one day in one of your two properties out in the sun before you start making me exercise?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“It is work,” You say, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that song you played yesterday, I think it needs to be less.. Ethereal.”

“What does that mean?”

You sit down next to him, laying your head in the grass. “Harry Styles is a rockstar, if you’re going to do a sad song, which seems to be your specialty, it needs to at least have a beat.”

“People don’t want to dance to sad songs.”

“Dude,” You say matter of factly, “Of course they do, I do and I think I speak for a very large section of the United States population.You need a sad song you can at the very least scream too, if not full out dance.”

“So what’s your suggestion?” He asks.

“Add more guitar,” You tell him, “Like a lot more. Take all the lyrics you have and put them on a track that sounds like it should be about your new puppy or something.”

“Who writes songs about puppies?”

“It was an example, H.” You sigh, “but you get the point.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t be like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you let it go as one of his moods for a while. But it goes on for longer than you thought it would be, and eventually you sit up. He’s staring down at his phone, frozen, and then he starts typing without saying anything to you. “What are you looking at?” You ask him, and he doesn’t say anything. “What is it H?” You ask again.

“Fuck it all,” He says, dropping his phone to the ground, and covering his face with his hands as he laid down with his head in the grass.

You pick his phone up off the ground and see that he’s opened twitter. Staring right back at you is a picture of the two of you kissing outside a small restaurant from the night before, you rack your brain trying to think if you saw anywhere when you were there and you swore you didn’t. Like it or not, everyone is going to know about the two of you now, including Melanie who had told you not to interact with Harry after the party expressly. “Shit,” You say, and your phone begins to ring the sound of Temporary Fix filling the small backyard.

“Fucking Melanie,” Harry says, still lying on the ground, “She’s going to ream me.”

“Well at least she’ll do it to both of us,” You groan, not even bothering to go and get your phone. You stand up, as a tension headache begins to form in your temples, “Well I’m going to get into the pool.”

“Now?” He asks you. “Seems like the perfect way to avoid this problem, doesn’t it?”

He also gets to his feet, and takes your hand, “Yeah it does.”

And together the two of you jump into the pool.

It’s an hour before you finally call Melanie back, even though you meant to avoid it for at least another hour. You sit at the kitchen counter while Harry takes a call in another room, dreading this call because you do not want to hear her yell at you for nothing, mostly because you're a grown woman and are above being lectured.

“Were you just not going to tell me about this?”

“Yes, that was the plan.”

“I told you not to-”

“Yeah but I had already made plans by then that I couldn’t cancel.”

“There was one man in the entire world, who you couldn’t fuck-”

“I know, what are the odds?”

“Could you please stop fucking with me for one second?” She says, “This is serious.”

“It’s not that bad, for you I mean.” You shrug, “I mean for me my personal business is all out on the internet now and I’ll be permanently known as one of Harry Styles’ girlfriends but for you what’s better press wise than a good ol enemies to lovers arc? I won’t tell anyone the enemies part wasn’t real if you won’t.”

You hear her sigh from the other end of the phone, and then tap her nails against the desk. “You might be onto something there.”

“I’m always onto something Melanie, I’m the artist here aren’t I?” And you hang up, before you say something that you’ll regret. You’d meant what you said, you were mostly just uncomfortable with everyone knowing who you're dating, especially the harry twitter stans who are known for being very excitable to say the least, you could see why they liked him so much but you would be lying if you said they didn’t scare you. You think of all the interviews you’ll do in the future where people will ask about him, about your relationship and maybe about how it ended.

Harry comes back into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge. He opens both and sets one out in front of you. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” You say. You look at him, “Is this the part where we break up because you can’t be seen with me?” You put your face into the counter and let out another groan.

“Never,” He says, taking a drink, “No one else I would rather weather this shit-storm with.”

You smile, “Same here.”

#guys.. I wrote this so fast #it only took me two days #which makes me nervous that it's bad because it was so fast #but anyway #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction

254 notes · View notes

ag3ntl3vi · 3 years

Text

Hoodie X GN! Reader X Masky | “Rock Paper Sisscors” |☁️

This struck me at like, 3AM while listening to Devil in Diguise. I’ll probably write more parts to this tonight if im being honest.

!Gender-Neutral reader!

Trigger Warnings: Sexual mentions.

Word Count: 2,317

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

"Can you go any slower?" You laughed, stopping to allow your friend to catch up. Sweat dotted her chocolatey forehead as she panted.

"Yes! I can." She wheezed. "You're just too fast!" Taylor whined loudly, bending herself in half to try and catch her breath. You rolled your eyes and pulled her up, raising her arms over her head.

"You'll breathe better this way," You told her, taking a step back and taking a long sip of your icy water. Taylor nodded her thanks and slowed her breathing gradually.

"Wanna keep going?" You asked as you wiped your mouth on your wrist. Taylor feriously shook her head. "I'll pass, (Y/n)." She whimpered. You put yout arms behind your head as you began to walk down the worn dirt bath.

"That sucks," You murmered. "We were only 1/4th of the way done."

Taylor gaped at your cocky smirk. "And you do this everyday?"

You nodded. "Twice a day if I'm feelin' lucky," You winked and giggled. Taylor shook her head in disbelief.

"You're a machine," She grumbled, jogging to your side. You could tell she was tired, but she was the one who asked to join you in your near-night run. She said she needed the exercise to get the perfect "summer body", even though it was fall.

You hummed. "I didn't know they made sexy machines now." Taylor pushed away the urge to roll her eyes, though she desperately wanted to. She chose not to answer your stupid comment. You both started to walk back to your dorm and planned a junk food movie night. You had the feeling she wouldn't last, but you couldn't say no to her puppy face. You had to admit, you were a sucker for your best friend. Taylor ended up chugging the rest of her and your water bottles greedily, but you didn't blame her. She was pretty out of shape. The darker skinned girl took a large gasp of fresh oxygen after finishing off your beverage.

"Learn to breathe, my God," You snorted. She glared.

"I just ran a mile, you can shut your mouth, you fucking monster," She hissed playfully.

School campus soon came into view after your bickering. Taylor grumbled about how badly her feet ached and how she was never running ever again. You parted ways at the dorm. Taylor wanted to get the living room set up for the movie and sent you out for snacks and drinks. You easily migrated to the everything store. That wasn't its actual name, you couldn't care to remember what it was, but the everything store seemed to suit the run down shop better.

You pushed thr glass double doors open, a cute bell ringing to announce your presence to the cashire, Michael.

"(Y/n)!" He greeted with a smile. You returned the facial gester with a small wave of your own. "What're you here for this time?" He leaned his head on his open palm, his eyes trained on your figure. You had your back turned to him as you read the movie names on the rack.

"What does it look like?" You chuckles, plucking a familar title from the shelf. 'Kiki's Delivery Service', a childhood favorite of yours. Michael didn't verbally answer, he was too busy allowing his eyes to roam your every curve.

His eyes snapped to the side when you turned around to wonder down the candy isle. You shoved a KitKat , snickers, and (f/c) into your arm (allowing an extra of your favored one into your pocket, shh) before you turned the corner, finding the energy drinks. With a childish grin you grabbed a few of the better Monster flavors. You knew you had popcorn at the dorm so you didn't bother trying to find a box here.

You decided to check out as quickly as possible, avoiding as much conversation with Michael as you could. He gave you the creeps. He always tended to make sexual remarks regarding your running outfit, like how your shorts made your ass look plump or how cute you looked with a flushed, tired expression. In general, he didn't seem like a good guy or influence, though Taylor took an odd interest in him. She always had shitty tastes in men.

It was getting late, you noticed. The sun started to darken as students scrambled to their respected dorms or apartments off campus. You made your way to your room. The illuminated cobblestone path gave you the worst horror movie vibes, so to say you booked it was an understatement. As soon as you were inside the safe confindments of your dorms living area, you released a loud sigh of relief. You thought about taking the elevator up, but decided on the stairs to the third story. You were very grateful you were on a higher floor, to you it served as a lesser chance of being robbed or murdered.

"I brought a movie, candy and monsters, come on, you filthy goblin." you called into the freakishly neat room. Taylor was a very, very messy person so you tended to pick up after her more than you'd happily admit. It didn't take long for you to set positions for certain objects in specific places. Example, your shoes stayed in a small, plastic, blue bin by the door. They didn't ever make it to the carpeted floor of the living room. You had a key rack by the door so your keys were never lost or misplaced and Taylor had insisted you needed a coat rack, so your bookbags and Taylor's purses hung there. Any extra blankets, pillows, and sheets were placed neatly in the spare closet.

"Monsters..?" Her brown head popped out from around the corner.

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

Taylor had passed out halfway through the movie, not that you were surprised. You pouted. You were very well use to it, but it wasn't any less disappointing when it happened. You carefully laid her on the couch, not bothering to wake her. She was a literal demon when she was woken up. You covered her body in a large, fluffy blanket before standing, pacing for a moment.

You wondered back to your organized room and grabbed your large spray bottle you kept on your dresser. You stared down your mass of plants in your window seal and the few on your night stand and hanging from the ceiling before watering the ones that needed it, leaving your Rainbow Bush succulent alone. Satisfied, you grabbed your school jacket and your earbuds and phone before slipping your shoes on at the door.

It was almost 1 before Taylor and you had finally settled enough to sit and watch the movie, so it was fairly late now. But, regretfully, your body was still pumped from the sugary drinks you consumed not long ago. You made a quick choice to go on a short run to tire yourself out a bit before retiring for the night. Sure, wasn't the best idea to go out at night, alone and defenceless, but you prided yourself in your speed if needed. Besides, you've done it before and you were obviously still alive!

You made your way to the dirt path you ran earlier in the day, struggling to remember a stupid songs name. You grinned when you figured it out and hurriedly played it. The opening played through your earbuds as you gently bobbed your head to the beat.

"There are boulders on my shoulders, collar bones begin to crack, there is very little left of me and it's never coming back," You sung softly along with 'Be nice to me'. An old, but greatly loved song from your middle school years. You began to run.

Your lips parted in a content smile as a phrase slipped past your teeth.

"You're a killer, and i'm your best friend. I think it's unfair, your situation,"

You began to bounce on the balls of your feet excitedly. "You say i'm changing! I'm sorry I didn't know I had to stay the same!" You jumped as your legs moved, your voice growing louder and bolder with every word thoughtlessly spilling out your mouth. You became unaware of the eyes watching your movements, head tilted in confusion.

"Your voice is driving me insane!" You shouted, hopping more as you swished your head side to side, getting louder everytime the phrase was repeated. The last note rang through your ears and you let out a joyful that was quickly cut off. The overbearing feeling of being watched dawned on you.

You jerked around and scanned the treeline, your eyes falling on a tall male facing you with a tilted head. You stared at him, confused before your gaze fell on the bloodied pipe dangling by his side. You fearfully and turned around, bolting in the direction the path led you to. You didn't have much time to understand why he was watching you, but you could hear his heavy footsteps crushing dead leaves as he raced after you.

'Molly' blasted into your ears loudly, making you jerk in surprise. If you were going to die tonight, you were glad this was the song you'd die to.

You could hear him distantly still chasing after you. Not to brag, but you could run a mile amd keep going onto the next without breaking too much of a sweat, though you'd be fairly tired. Speaking of tired, you could feel the drousiness spreading to your head and deep down you knew that you couldn't keep the pace up for much longer.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned into the woods, lifting your feet high so you wouldn't be the stupid one to trip on a root and be killed first. That would be an embarrassing way to die and not even Molly could make it better, you concluded.

So you did the most logical thing your sleepy brain could think of.

You climbed a fucking tree.

The man was a far enough distance for you to get a good amount of height between the two of you. You panted, your palms itching with needle-like pain from the rough and merciless bark, but pulled yourself up another branch and looked down. The man was panting heavily, bent over as he struggled to force air into his most likely burning lungs. He stood up after a quick second, glaring up the tree at you.

Childishly, but overcome with a sense of acomplishment, you stuck your tongue out at him.

Bad idea, you concluded when the guy's gloved fists clenched by his sides and he started to climb.

You squealed. "No! Fuck off!" You shouted. "Pick another goddamn tree, you humanoid orange!" A growl ripped through your teeth as you glared fearfully at him. To your surprise, he got down. He moved his head to stare at you before sitting indian style, his face pointed to you.

For the first time you had a proper look at him, and you weren't surprised. He looked like he came from a shitty horror movie. He wore an orange hoodie with a ski mask hiding his facial features, a red frowny face sitched into it. He had dark blue, wore out jeans and black boots that looked to be kept as clean as Taylor would keep her living space.

'Best friend' Began to play quietly through your (f/c) earbuds and you forced down a snort at the timing. You were hoddled up in a tree while a guy who most likely wanted you dead watched from below. You shook your head and glanced at the dark sky.

'The stars are out' You thought as you spotted the little dipper, the big one wasn't far away from it's child.

It only took about ten minutes for your easily distracted mind to get bored. You stared down at the hooded man as he drew in the dirt with his pipe. An idea struck you, a bad one, but an idea nevertheless. And it wasn't going to kill you, with a lot of hope, it may allow you to live another day.

"Yo, tangerine!" He flinched at your loud voice, moving his head to stare at you.

You held up a fist with your dominate hand, your opposite going under it, palm up and open.

"Wanna play rock, paper, sisscors before I die?"

The man stilled before very, and I mean very slowly nodded. You allowed yourself to snort. Now you were going to play a childs game with a murderer.

"Do you know how to play?" You called down. He nodded again and held up his hands. "Cool," You said.

The orange-clad killer was absolute shit at rock, paper, sisscors. He was even worse than your nephew, who was six and had the attention span of a squirell. Sometime in your game playing, you had moved yourself a few branches down to see him better in the dark woods. You now sat a branch above his head. He didn't move much, but his shoulders seemed to slump.

You threw rock, again, and he threw sisscors. You gave an evil victory crackle whiele he glared gloomily at his open fingers. "That was fun," You stretched your arms over your head, yawning. "Can I go now?" You calmly asked.

He didn't move for a long while, looking between you and his gloved hands, the, back to you. Finally, he nodded. You hopped down, smiling widely.

"Thanks," You said nervously. He was trying to kill you earlier, so you wouldn't be completely off guard around him. You started to shuffle around him cautiously. His arm shot out, grabbing your upper arm roughly. You flinched hard, looking up at him with wide eyes.

This is it, You thought He changed his mind and wants to eat me!

Instead, you heard a deep voice whisper.

"You can leave if we can play again soon."

#creepypasta #x reader #hoodie x reader #hoodie #masky #marble hornets #fanfiction #masky x reader #poly relationship #masky x reader x hoodie #cp #i dont know what im doing #rock paper sisscors #murderer #tim wright #brian thomas

153 notes · View notes

skiller0dani · 4 years

Text

More | Ethan Nestor

M A S T E R L I S T YouTube Masterlist

smut requested requests info Part 1

lately ethan is the only thing that brings a smile to my face. thank god he exists. thank god he was born.

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Ethan said with a shrug, adamantly avoiding Mark’s doubtful gaze. That’s the agreement you and Ethan made, you could fool around all you wanted but you were just friends. Lately, the lines felt more blurred than they had in the past, but you were still just friends.

“Uh-huh.” Was all Mark said, but Ethan pretended not to hear him.

Ethan didn’t know what kind of answer Mark wanted to hear, all he could tell him was the truth. No matter how painful the truth is, and painfully you and Ethan are just friends. From the first kiss, the first touch Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. Instead of outright admitting how he feels about you, he continues to go along with friends with benefits.

He loves being able to fuck you, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more than that. “What?” Ethan can’t stop the word as it pushes free from the confines of his mouth. Mark smirks.

“Nothing.”

“It’s definitely not nothing.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you asked Y/N on a date?” Mark blurted, his hands fixing the lens as he set up the camera in front of his desk. Without meaning to, Mark presses record and fully intends to stop recording immediately when a horribly wicked thought crosses his mind. You are one of their video editors.

“W-Why would you think that?” Ethan felt a blush crawling up his neck, he and Mark didn’t have conversations like this.

“I know how you feel about her, you’re being a pussy.” There’s a smile on Mark’s face that lets Ethan know he’s only joking. Sort of. A nervous chuckle escapes Ethan’s lips before he can stop it, and he’s pulling at the collar of his black and white splattered t-shirt. Which coincidentally, you gave him for his birthday this year.

“She said just friends.” Ethan sighs, knowing there’s no point lying to Mark.

It was your idea to be ‘just friends’, you had suggested it first. That’s what keeps stopping Ethan from trying to be more, why would he when you said to his face you wanted to be just friends?

“She said that just in case you didn’t feel the same way dude.” Mark rolled his eyes, never did he think he’d be coaching Ethan on how to communicate with a girl. Ethan shook his head, itching the back of his neck as he turned back to Mark’s desktop. Mark hoped he didn’t notice the camera recording. He didn’t.

Deep down Mark knows that Ethan isn’t going to do anything no matter what he says to him. “Do you have feelings for her?” He asks, watching Ethan desperately avoid making eye contact with him.

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s worth a shot.” Mark shrugs, turning to grab for the mouse. His eyes looking into the lens as he reaches up to ‘hit record’ on the camera. Mark wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for Amy informing him on your enormous crush on Ethan.

It was late when Ethan finally made it back to his apartment, and to his surprise he still found you curled on his couch where he left you that morning. You had a book nestled in your lap and Spencer curled at your feet, it made a warm feeling blossom in Ethan’s chest. “Hey.”

He smiled upon hearing your voice. “Hey, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

You blushed.

“You have good books that you never read!” You explain with a pink blush dusted across your cheeks. Ethan kicked off his shoes with a smile, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He wants you to be here waiting for him to get home all the time. He wants you to be waiting for him like this, not some other guy. He wants more.

“Mind if I stay tonight?” Your question is hesitant, but instead of answering Ethan worms his way under your book and lays his head in your lap. “Have I ever?”

He thinks about what Mark said earlier, and Ethan wishes he had the guts to outright tell you how he feels. He wished he could, but he’s not nearly brave enough for that. He knows the way he feels about you is more than a crush, it’s more real, more raw than that. He remembers all the times you’ve been there when he desperately needed you, all the times you’ve laughed at a dumb meme at 2 in the morning. Those gentle moments in the pale moonlight, those moments after sex but before sleep. When he rolls over and looks at you, and you smile shyly at him, your hands intertwined. Ethan knows your body like the back of his hand, he wants to know your heart like that.

When Ethan first started this with you, he and Mika had just broken up. He needed someone, needed to feel someone against him. You were there when he needed you, and then the lust turned into something more. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did and now it was consuming his every waking thought.

You continue reading your book, your fingers aimlessly combing through Ethan’s hair. “Gonna put me to sleep.”

You look down at Ethan to see his eyes have fluttered shut, and he’s fully nuzzled into your lap. Your heart feels like it grows 10 sizes, but you’re just friends. Friends do stuff like this...right? Before you think twice, you’re leaning over and pressing your lips to Ethan’s Spiderman style. When you pull back, Ethan’s eyes are open and focused on you. Ethan sits up when you shift under him, and his eyes widen in surprise when you sink to your knees in front of the couch where he’s sitting.

“What are you doing?” He swallows thickly, feeling his cock already hardening in his jeans. You smile shyly, you’ve never initiated anything sexual before. It was always Ethan making the first move. “W-Well I wanted to do something nice for you. You worked all day today.”

Ethan leaned back against the couch as your hands fumbled with his belt, before finally unbuckling it. Your hands unbutton his jeans before your hand delves into his boxers, your fingers wrapping around the hard shaft. Ethan spreads his knees apart further to allow you more room, a soft hiss escaping his mouth when you finally free him from the confines of his jeans.

“Y/N you don’t have to-” The protest dies in his throat when you take him into your mouth, your tongue snaking under his shaft along the vein that runs all the way down to the base. His head falls back against the couch as you continue to slowly work him down your throat. Eventually one of Ethan’s hands winds into your hair, but he doesn’t tug your head. It’s more that he needs something to hold onto. Soon your nose nestled against Ethan’s pelvis, and you hear him groan softly when you swiftly pull off him. You smiled up at him, and when Ethan looked down at you his pupils engulfed most of his eyes.

You stood and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I have to go edit the video from today. Be back in an hour or two.”

“I thought you said you were going to do something nice!” You hear him groan loudly as you leave the room and you can’t help but laugh.

You sit at the computer, the video pulled up in the editing software. You hear something frying in the living room so you can only assume Ethan is making dinner. Your heart races in your chest, this doesn’t feel like just friends anymore. Ethan lets you stay the night, in fact you’re over here basically every night of the week. He holds your hand, cooks for you, randomly gives you kisses. You don’t want to be friends anymore, you need to be more than that. You try to shake the thoughts from your head when you hit play.

The conversation you hear stops you dead in your tracks.

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“Yeah.”

You almost feel guilty listening to their private conversation, but when Mark looks into the lens you know it was intentional. You see the blush on Ethan’s face, you see the small smile pulling at his lips when he admits his feelings for you. Ethan has been your best friend ever since he moved to LA, and even when he was with Mika your heart raced whenever he entered the room. You felt tears pushing at the backs of your eyes, he actually feels the same way!

Your heart races at a million miles an hour as you stand on shaky legs. All this time you thought he didn’t want more, you thought that he was content being just friends. Your heart races and happiness blooms wildly in your chest. A smile stretches across your face before you can stop it. You push out of Ethan’s office and nearly stumble as you stand numbly in the kitchen. You stand quietly and watch him for a moment, humming to himself as he continues to cook dinner. Your chest warms, you want this with him. You want it all the time, you want to be able to kiss him in public and brag because yeah he’s yours. You want sex to mean something between you two, you want it to be more than just getting off.

“Ethan?” Your voice is shaky, as you watch him stir some pasta in a pot.

“Hm?”

You have so many things you want to say, but when Ethan turns to look at you it all completely unravels. His eyebrows furrow together once he sees the tears in your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. Your mind goes blank as you look into his eyes, the tender concern laced in them as he watches you cautiously. You know what you want to say, and you know that saying it could change everything between you two forever but that’s what you want. You want things to change forever. You can’t live in limbo like this with him anymore, you need more. A tear drifts down your cheek, and Ethan has a confused and worried look on his face.

“I love you.” The words come out softer than you thought, and for a second it felt as though time stood still. You see something flash in his eyes, and you smile wider before taking a few steps towards him. “I love you Ethan.” You whisper as you reach him, your arms winding around his shoulders. You feel immense relief as the words free themselves from your mind, finally being out in the open between you. Ethan blinks in confusion before swiftly pressing his lips against yours. The desperation that is normally laced in every kiss isn’t there this time. This time, the kiss is soft, and slow, and tender. It makes you feel weak in the knees.

His hand reaches to turn off the stove as his other one cups your cheek to deepen the kiss. Ethan’s eyes are closed tightly, as are yours and you know your cheeks are wet with tears. “I love you Y/N.” His voice wavers and you press your lips to his once more, and soon Ethan’s hands are pulling your thighs up to lift you off the ground. He walks you through his apartment before you feel his soft sheets against your back, and he finally pulls away from you. Ethan brushes his nose against yours as he smiles down at you. Your hands slide under his shirt, pulling it off his body as you go. You lean up to press kisses to his collarbones, drawing out soft sighs from him as you go.

Ethan’s hands reach for your leggings, slowly pushing them down as your lips find a tender spot of his neck. You bite down, and you hear Ethan groan as his hands pull your panties down next. His hand drifts up your body, past where you need him and up your stomach. You lay back against the pillows when his hands pull his shirt you took over your head. This isn’t just sex anymore, you’re in love with him. His bulge rocks into your bare core through his jeans and you whimper before reaching down to quickly pull his jeans down his legs. Luckily he never put his belt back on. Ethan’s forehead rests against yours as his boxers join his jeans on the ground and your hand is deftly stroking him.

Ethan rests on his elbows, and for the first time you can really feel his body against yours as you continue to pump him slowly with your hand. “Jesus stop, keep teasing me like that and I’ll fucking cum.” Ethan groans, eliciting a giggle from you. Ethan reaches down and runs his fingers through your folds, a loving tenderness in his eyes as he positions his head at your entrance. You press your lips against his, and your lips move together slowly as Ethan slides into you with one swift thrust. You gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his bare shoulders. Your toes curl as Ethan slowly pulls out before rocking back into you tenderly.

He sets a soft and gentle pace, his thrusts going deep and slow. You moan softly as you rock against him, your lips never leaving his. Ethan keeps his slow and loving pace, causing your entire pelvis to heat up. The way he looks at you when he finally parts from you, that look in his eyes nearly brings tears to your eyes. It makes you feel like he really does love you. “Fuck Ethan-” You cry out softly, holding him tighter to you when his pace picks up a little. His hand drifts in between your bodies and presses against your clit, and as soon as it does you’re cumming around him. Ethan offers a few more weak thrusts before he’s cumming inside you.

When he pulls out of you he rolls over to lay next to you, a boyish smile on his face. You press your lips to his once more, winding your arms around his waist.

“I love you.” You can’t help but say it again, you just want to say it over and over again. Ethan presses a kiss to your forehead with an easy smile on his face. “I know, I love you too.”

“What made you tell me?” Ethan brushed a hand through your hair as you laid your head on his chest. You smiled shyly.

“Mark left your little conversation at the beginning of the video he sent me today.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Ethan blushed.

“Jerk.” You couldn’t help but laugh, and finally it felt like everything in your life finally fell into place.

#ethan nestor #ethan nestor imagine #ethan nestor smut #crankgameplays imagine #crankgameplays #crankgameplays smut #youtuber #youtube smut #Smut

391 notes · View notes

riversofmars · 3 years

Text

Well, well, well, here we are, forth and final part to this story! Thank you everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! I'm happy to say, I'll probably be posting another fic for them next week, plus, I'm working on some bits for them for Whumptober! Until then, hope you enjoy this last part <3

Home Is Not A Place - Part 4: The Way Forward

When Caroline stepped out of her SUV, she narrowly avoided a puddle and congratulated herself on the small achievement. She walked around the side of the car to get Flora out of her seat. The week had gone by in a haze and by the time the weekend came round again, Caroline hadn’t been able to face being cooped up at the farm. So she had invited herself and Flora to her mother’s and Alan’s for the day, a course of action she had started to regret the moment her mother turned her visit into an interrogation.

“What’s the matter with you?“ Celia’s sharp observational skills had picked up on Caroline’s discomfort within moments of her entering the house.

“It’s been an exhausting week.“ Despite Caroline’s best attempts at making her drop the issue, Celia was like a dog with a bone:

“Did something happen? I told you it would be a bad idea, this. You and Gillian, you’re like fire and water, cats and dogs, it was never going to go well, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did,“ Celia had huffed with no small measure of self-righteousness.

“Nothing happened! Everything is fine with our living arrangements.“ In hindsight, Caroline wasn’t sure how convincing her assurances had been but her mother wouldn’t have dropped the issue either way.

“That’s not what Alan said,“ her mother had countered, which came as a surprise to Caroline. Alan had been nothing but supportive of her move to the farm.

“What?“

“I didn’t say anything of the sort…“ Alan had intervened, but Celina had a habit of twisting his words the way they suited her.

“You said Gillian sounded strange on the phone, like something had happened.“

“Yes, but that could be any number of things…“ Alan had tried to appease, but the damage had been done.

Now, Caroline was back at the farm contemplating how they could move forward from here. She didn’t want her mother to have been right but the more she thought about it, the harder the current situation appeared to maintain. Watching Flora skip up the stairs to the farm house, calling for Calamity, was a particularly painful reminder of what she had ruined.

“Hiya Caz!“ A voice called to her as she hung up her coat in the front room and she tried to ignore her disappointment with the fact that it was Raff, not Gillian.

“Hello everyone,“ Caroline smiled as she came into the lounge. Flora had pounced onto Calamity on the sofa, next to Ellie, who was feeding the baby and gave her a quick wave of greeting. Caroline turned her attention to the kitchen where Raff was setting the table. Gillian was nowhere in sight which was both a relief and a disappointment. “Date night, is it?“ Caroline asked with a smirk as she noticed Raff had only set the table for two. There were wine glasses too, which the headteacher thought odd, as Raff didn’t drink wine really, but maybe he was making an effort for Ellie.

“This? Oh no, that’s not for us,“ Raff was quick to explain. “We’re gonna take kids to Harvesters if that’s alright with you.“

“Oh…“ Caroline didn’t know how else to respond.

“You and me Mum really need to sort out whatever it is you’ve got going on,“ Raff explained and opened the oven, checking on what looked like steak and ale pie. “I know she’s a lot to handle but…she’s better with you around so, whatever she’s done, just… try and move on from it?“ He retrieved the pie and put it on the table.

“It wasn’t her…“ Caroline said softly. “She didn’t do anything…“

“Oh well, then…you just sort it out, yeah?“ Raff reached out and put his hand to her arm, a gesture of understanding and support that Caroline didn’t feel she deserved, but was grateful for anyway.

“Right.“ She managed a thin smile and Ellie announced from the sofa:

“We’ll get the kids out of your hair.“

“What’s all this?“ As if on cue, Gillian appeared in the doorway of the lounge.

“Dinner.“ Raff smiled, setting the oven gloves down and following his wife who was shepherding the kids out.

“You not stopping?“ Gillian frowned, confused.

“Promised Calamity and Flora we’d go to Harvesters this weekend so you guys enjoy,“ Raff explained, gesturing towards the table.

“Raff!“ Gillian exclaimed, panic evident in her voice at the prospect of being left alone with Caroline. The headteacher just stood by the kitchen table, grabbing on to the back of a chair far more tightly then necessary.

“See you in a bit… come on little monsters, off we go!“ Raff paid no attention to his mother’s protest and silence fell upon their departure.

“Dunno why he did this…“ Gillian was first to break the awkward standoff, pushing her hands in her pockets self-consciously.

“Cause he wants us to sort things out,“ Caroline replied without looking at her. She decided it was best to sit down. Raff had gone to a lot of trouble for them and so it would be ungrateful of them to not at least try.

“Did you tell him?“ Gillian’s voice was shaky and accusatory in equal measures.

“No. Of course not…“ Caroline huffed. “Did you?“ She looked up to Gillian who sat down across from her, even if it was reluctantly.

“Course not!“ The sheep farmer shot back as if it was a ridiculous notion.

“Right…“ Caroline hummed. “Well, it’d be a shame to…let this go to waste…“

“I guess…“ Gillian had to agree and took the initiative of dishing out the food. “How’s me Dad?“ she asked without looking at Caroline.

“Fine, yeah, it was a nice day,“ the headteacher replied in a non-committal sort of way.

“Was it?“ Gillian’s voice let on how much she doubted that and Caroline couldn’t help a small smile, at how well Gillian was able to interpret the situation.

“Well, apart from my mother giving me an earful as usual,“ she admitted as she took a bite of the pie.

“What about?“ Gillian asked as she started eating as well.

“Oh just her usual high and mighty nonsense, how she’d been right, us living together would never work,“ Caroline answered thoughtfully. She wanted to be outraged by the very suggestion but she couldn’t be. Not when she had to entertain the possibility that maybe she had a point.

“Hm,“ Gillian huffed a response. “Hate it when your mum’s right.“

“She’s not right,“ Caroline shot back quickly, refusing to believe that, and Gillian held her hands up in defence.

“If you say so…“

Conversation stalled and they focused on their food instead. Where before, silence had been comfortable and peaceful between them, it was now laden with unspoken accusations and bitter disappointment. So much so, that eventually, they couldn’t take it anymore and Gillian was the first to break. She downed the rest of her wine and got to her feet though she was nowhere near done.

“Gillian…“ Caroline felt obliged to try and stop her from walking away.

“Just got to go check on sheep…“ Gillian said and Caroline shook her head:

“No, you don’t.“

“How would you know, you don’t know first thing about farming,“ Gillian snapped as she made her way into the lounge.

“I’ve lived here long enough to pick up a thing or two,“ Caroline countered and got up herself. “You’ve just been to feed them before we sat down.“ She followed her into the living area.

“Maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to go for a walk then. Fucking hell, Caroline, just give me some space, would you?“ Gillian yelled, and the expression of shock and hurt on Caroline’s face must have been all too obvious. “Sorry…“ The sheep farmer mumbled quickly. Her reaction had been over the top and it was impossible to deny how bad things had gotten. They couldn’t ignore it any longer, they needed to sort it out. Gillian perched against the sofa and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a gesture both defensive and protective. She didn’t look at Caroline, who lingered a few meters from her, she just stared at her own feet.

“Maybe this was a bad idea, us moving in here,“ Caroline said at last, admitting to something she neither believed nor wanted to be true, but it seemed the easiest way to alleviate the pain they were clearly both in.

“Don’t say that,“ Gillian mumbled, kicking her feet on the thick rug.

“It was, it was a bad idea. On paper it was perfect but in reality…“ Caroline gave a bitter laugh.

“It was too. It was…perfect, in reality, I mean…it was so…good…“ Gillian admitted, her voice soft and full of regret. It hurt Caroline more than another angry outburst would have. That disappointment that everything had gone up in flames after it had been so good, for all of them.

“But only until…it’s made me… I don’t know… the other day, that shouldn’t have happened.“ Caroline couldn’t get her words out, not properly, but Gillian understood anyway. There was, after all, only one thing she could be referring to.

“Caroline-,“ Gillian started but Caroline interrupted her:

“No, it was wrong, I read too much into what you were saying, it won’t happen again, I promise. But if you want me to go, if you feel like that’s going to hang over us from now on, I understand, I…“ It was the last thing she wanted but if that was what it took to make things go back to normal, she was prepared to make that sacrifice. She would sooner have Gillian as a friend with a healthy distance between them, than push their relationship beyond repair by forcing closeness that wasn’t good for either one of them.

“It’s not that, Caz,“ Gillian actually started laughing, in a desperate, disbelieving sort of way that stunned Caroline.

“It’s not?“ The headteacher echoed incredulously and Gillian shook her head.

“No…“

“Then what?“ Caroline asked, desperate for an alternative explanation. “Give me a clue.“

“Given you lots of clues, haven’t I, and you picked up on ‘em too and then… I just… don’t know, I freaked out, didn’t I. Like the utter pillock I am…“ Gillian mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?“ Caroline frowned, she wasn’t sure whether she had heard her right or if she was getting the wrong end of the stick again.

“You know when you…“ Gillian cleared her throat awkwardly, but managed to meet her eyes at last. Caroline was surprised at the depth of emotion she found there. Negative ones, yes, like Gillian’s constant self-doubt and anxiety, but positive ones too, like admiration and something akin to longing. “Been wondering what it’d be like to… have someone like you, you know… and then, you’re here and like I was saying, it’s everything but the sex, isn’t it, and I meant what I said, I’d never been… happier…“ She paused and took a deep breath, she looked back to the floor as if she didn’t want to face Caroline’s reaction as she carried on: “I like you Caz, like really like you, for God’s sake, I’m sharing my f-bloody life with you, aren’t I, for what that’s w-worth and I… I thought maybe…“ The sheep farmer broke off her stuttering explanation as her courage left her.

“Gillian, I…“ Caroline took a step towards her, she reached out, intent on taking her hands but Gillian flinched back, clasping her arms around herself again as a means of protection.

“You’re too good for me, Caroline. In like, every way, and for some s-stupid reason… you seem to want to be here and I can’t figure out why! Sure, makes childcare easier, dunnit but… you always have to put up with me and Raff, Ellie, little ones… you could just pay for f-bloody wrap-around care, couldn’t you, it’s not like you can’t afford it…“ The sheep farmer burst out, shaking her head vehemently.

“Gillian,“ Caroline tried to appease her but there was no talking to her when she got like this, into a self-destructive, self-deprecating spiral because she believed nothing good would ever happen to her and if it did, she surely didn’t deserve it.

“So yeah, guess I… can’t blame you for wanting to leave, like, what were you doing here in the first place…“ Gillian took a deep breath, coming to the inevitable conclusion.

“Has it, at any point in that convoluted reasoning of yours, occurred to you that maybe, I like sharing my life with you too?“ Caroline asked, slowly, testing the waters as her heartbeat started to thunder in her ears upon the realisation that she had looked at things all wrong. The reason Gillian had rebuffed her advances was not that she wasn’t interested, that she had overstepped, it was because she had got scared and pulled back at the last moment because still, after all this time, she still didn’t believe she deserved to be happy.

“Oh…“ Gillian’s response was barely audible, she still stared at the floor, and Caroline decided this was her moment to put everything right. Things couldn’t get much worse, could they, so with a sort of dead man’s courage, she decided to put all her cards on the table. She retreated to a safe distance over by the fire before turning back, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Yes, maybe it was a stupid idea to move in together, God knows I usually have better judgement than that - but then, looking at John, maybe I don’t,“ Caroline announced and was relieved to see a little smile cross the sheep farmer’s features, even if it was just for a moment. It encouraged her to keep going. “Maybe, I was tempted! Maybe I liked the idea of this, of us! And I always knew that there was a good chance I would only be making things worse for myself. Bad enough that I fancy my step sister, I put myself in the same house. With you right there, in arm’s reach! Cooking for me, looking after my daughter. You were changing in front of the fucking fire for God’s sake! Do you have any idea what that did to me?“ Caroline sigh, exasperated and Gillian huffed:

“No…“

“Well, I can tell you, it made things quite a lot worse, otherwise I would never… because I knew you wouldn’t be interested. I knew! You’re straight as an arrow. Except for when you’re not, which you just happened to drop into the conversation! Honestly, Gillian, what are you trying to do to me?“ Caroline laughed in a desperate sort of way at the irony of it all.

“Well, I don’t know, Caroline, maybe I was trying to say that yeah, maybe I’m like, I don’t know, interested! In you! As f-bloody mad as that sounds. You drive me crazy!“ Gillian exclaimed, breaking out of her stupor at last.

“We drive each other crazy, that’s not just on me,“ Caroline shot back, but not unkindly.

“You’re impossible!“ Gillian groaned, shaking her head at her.

“I’m impossible? You’re the one that pushed me away! I would have been quite happy to make all your sapphic fantasies come true, which, for the record, would have put you off men for good, I promise you that! You pushed me away,“ Caroline insisted sternly and this time, Gillian held her gaze defiantly.

“Yeah, well, maybe I was scared!“ Gillian declared and Caroline laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.

“When has sex ever scared Gillian Greenwood?“

“Not the sex, fuck’s sake, the commitment! Everything else! Our parents finding out! Ellie and Raff, they live in the same house as us. And the kids! And what will your colleagues say?“ Gillian gestured wildly, her emotions getting the better of her. “Did you hear, Dr. McKenzie-Dawson is dating again, yes, a sheep farmer, would you believe it?“ She faked a posh accent that she couldn’t maintain. “Caroline, I have nothing to give you, that’s what put us in this position, my f-bloody ineptitude at life.“ Gillian ran her hands through her hair, desperately trying to make her understand, but all Caroline did was take a step closer to her.

“I don’t want anything from you, I don’t have any expectations,“ she answered softly in response to her emotional outburst.

“You say that now but I bet when…“ Gillian averted her eyes again, looking at anything, everything, apart from the attractive headteacher who stepped into her personal space and simply took her hands, forcing her out of her defensive posture. The sheep farmer didn’t struggle, she couldn’t.

“Gillian. I am already sharing my life with you. We live in the same house. You look after my daughter. We share the burdens and we share the rewards, we are already, for all intents and purposes, partners. Do you really think I care what people say?“ Caroline asked softly and a strangled sob escaped Gillian’s trembling lips.

“I care,“ she declared and cleared her throat, struggling for composure. “Not ‘bout… what they say about me, like, I know what they say, don’t bother me anymore, but you…“

“Gillian, shut up,“ Caroline said and Gillian gave a bitter laugh:

“Don’t just tell me to shut up, you’re not headmistress here, are ya, you…“

“Gillian, you really need to learn when to shut up. I don’t care about other people. Yes, maybe, seven years ago when we first met, I would have, but not now, not after everything with John, and Kate, Flora, the new job, you… I don’t care anymore. I just want to be happy… don’t we deserve nice things, after all that?“ She let go of her hands and instead cupped Gillian’s cheeks. She tilted her head up, made her look at her.

“You deserve everything, Caroline, and I can’t…give that to you,“ Gillian mumbled but Caroline gently shook her head.

“I don’t want everything. I’d be quite content just having you, if it’s all the same to you,“ she hummed and leaned down to kiss her. This time, Gillian didn’t pull back. If anything, she allowed herself a moment of weakness too. She kissed her back, wet and sloppy, as tears fell from her eyes that Caroline was quick to brush away.

“Well, you can… have me… if that’s what… you want…“ Gillian rested her forehead against Caroline’s as they broke apart.

“Yes please…“ Caroline pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her. Gillian was shaking still, insecure, a bundle of nerves, and Caroline was determined to make it all better for her. She knew she could. “Do you remember how hung up I used to be on that house in Harrogate?” The sheep farmer gave a little nod but frowned, confused as to what her point might be. Caroline gave her a warm smile, pulling her close. “I’ve come to realise something since then.“ She gave a little chuckle and pressed a kiss to the top of her sheep farmer’s head. “Home is not a place, it’s not four walls and a roof… it’s the people you live with. I feel at home with you, Gillian.“

“Alright then…“ Gillian mumbled into her shoulder, obviously fighting back tears as she rested her head there. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, taking comfort in the other’s closeness that they had missed so dearly over the course of last week.

“So you were dropping hints, were you?“ Caroline chuckled, as she straightened herself up again at last and ran her hands along the collar of Gillian’s plaid shirt.

“Maybe…“ Gillian admitted sheepishly, wiping a few stray tears away. She took a deep breath, focusing on Caroline, who regarded her with a warm smile.

“Getting naked in the lounge?“ The headteacher raised her eyebrows at her.

“I had to get out of those clothes, you said so yourself…“ The sheep farmer countered and Caroline laughed:

“It was a cheap ploy.“

“Worked though?“ Gillian smirked, seemingly feeling more confident with every moment.

“Worked very well… I was lying awake all night thinking about it…“ Caroline admitted with a hum and she looked down at Gillian’s body.

“You were?“ Gillian grinned and Caroline leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her neck, just below her ear.

“You have no idea…“ She hummed and delighted at how Gillian seemed to stiffen a little.

“Well, maybe you can tell me about it…“ The sheep farmer suggested, her voice a little more breathless than before.

“Show, don’t tell…“ Caroline grinned and captured her lips in another kiss.

“Fine by me…“ Gillian whispered into the kiss and started tugging at Caroline’s blouse.

#last tango in halifax #gillian greenwood #caroline mckenzie dawson #caroline x gillian #femslash #nicola walker #sarah lancashire #friends to lovers #fanfiction #mutual pining #light angst #fluff

30 notes · View notes