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heliotropehotch · 3 years

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as it was - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @greenprisca: Hi can I request a Hotch x reader fic! The reader is always there for hotch and jack (took care of them even when Haley was alive), but they both snap at her. Telling her she’s not Haley/his mom. (Y/N) takes a break from them and goes out with a brother or family member that’s a single parent, and the boys see it wrong.

a/n: i contacted tumblr a couple of days ago about my tag issues but i haven’t heard back. boosting this fic, if you like it, could really help tumblr fix whatever issue it’s having with my accounts. its very frustrating, and is making me not wanna post right now, so i might take a bit of time off while i wait for this issue to fix, and while i wait for more requests! ilysm thank you for your support!

Masterlist

author: abby <3

words: 1667

warning: fighting, yelling, mention of past character death

It shouldn’t have happened the way it did.

The collapse of a perfect world was triggered by a caring act. The end of a long day, the whisper of words turned to shouts, love turned into regret.

Aaron Hotchner had come back to his home late that night, the smell of dinner flooding through to his nostrils. He smiled, a gesture he missed when he was away on case. He called for Y/N, a presence he had hoped to see. Instead of the giggles of his son and her that usually met his eyes, he was met with quiet, so he headed to his son’s room.

She was moving to close Jack’s bedroom door, having just gotten him to sleep. Her eyes were tired, holding a sadness he had not seen in a long time. He quirked his eyebrow, moving to speak. She shook her head, a finger going to her mouth as she motioned him into the living room.

“How was your day, hun?” she sighed, stirring the pot of food she had made.

“It was work,” he took his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair before hugging her body from behind. “Did something happen today?”

“I think you’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow. He yelled at me tonight,” she said sadly, head swimming with thoughts.

“He did what?” he asked concerned, he hadn’t seen his son angry before.

“I was just trying to put him to bed, but I guess he was having a hard time,” she spoke, recalling the hour before. “So I started humming that song Haley used to sing to get him to sleep, Hey Jude.”

“What?” His body tensed around hers as she continued speaking.

“I don’t know.” She remained oblivious to his actions. “I thought it would help, but he just got more upset. He shouted saying I wasn’t his mom and started crying. I just held him until he fell asleep.”

He retracted his arms from around her, hands curling into fists. “You’re not.”

She paused her movements to the dining room to set out plates for the both of them. She asked confused, “What?”

“You’re not his mom,” Aaron’s voice rang stern, anger boiling behind his steely eyes. “You’re not Haley.

Y/N took a step back, scared of the tone, the implication of the words not said pushing against his lips. “Aaron,” her voice was confused, hurt. “I know that.”

“Then stop trying to act like you are.” He pulled his tie off, chucking it across the couch. “What made you think it was a good idea to do that? Stop trying to be more than what you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Her voice became louder, not caring about the way it echoed through the hall.

“A distraction,” he bit out, jaw clenched. “Nothing more than a sound to fill the silence.”

She huffed out a teary, dark chuckle, looking away from the man she’d give up everything for. She grabbed her things, keys jingling as her adrenaline began to wear. “Well, thank you, Hotch,” she bit out, a sarcastic smile on her face. “For having the decency to let me know now. Dinner’s on the fucking stove.”

The silence that was there before her hung in the air as he watched her shut the door, as she watched her leave.

The next morning, Jack Hotchner woke up rubbing sleep out of his eyes, clutching a stuffed animal Y/N had given him for his birthday. He frowned as he saw his father making breakfast in the kitchen.

“Daddy?” he pressed the fuzzy elephant to his chest. “Where’s Y/N?”

Aaron sighed at his son’s confused voice, setting the spatula he was using for pancakes down. He tried to mask his own emotions with the excitement of seeing his son. “Good morning, Buddy! Y/N went home for a bit, she had some other things to do.”

“But I thought this was her home.” Jack’s small little eyebrows furrowed with more confusion.

“It is,” Hotch knelt down to get on his son’s level. “She just needed some alone time, bud.”

Jack’s eyes began to well up, striking his father’s heart. “Is it my fault?”

Aaron felt his stomach drop with guilt. “Of course not Jack.”

“But I yelled at her.” His lip quivered. “I said she wasn’t mommy.”

“I know buddy-”

“But I don’t care!” Jack was sobbing into his dad’s shoulder now. “I love Y/N, daddy.”

Aaron pressed his distressed son into his chest, shushing his cries against his casual shirt. His own heart ached with regret and words he wanted to take back. He admitted the words he had yet to say, as if to give himself some comfort. “I love her too, Jack. She’ll be back soon, I promise.”

After Jack had calmed down, Hotch decided to spend his day off trying to ease both of their minds. He took Jack to the zoo, carefully avoiding the elephants, and spent what felt like hours staring at the waddling penguins. Jack insisted on getting Y/N an apology stuffed penguin. Then he promised a trip to the park with what Jack called the ‘cool jungle gym.’

Jack ran towards the swings as Hotch reclined back into one of the park benches. He smiled to himself momentarily, as he watched his once sad son giggle with the other kids. His grin fell though, as he realized she should be enjoying the day with them.

He wasn’t sure if Y/N would wait for him, and he honestly didn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had put her through so much, after having cared for both him and Jack when Haley died, and long before she passed as well. He loved Y/N but she couldn’t be blamed for being hurt at the things he had said, and would never mean.

His eyes glazed over the park, letting out a solemn sigh at the peacefulness that contrasted the interior of his heart. And then he saw her.

Her arms were wrapped around a man, one Hotch hadn’t remembered seeing before, although it felt familiar. Around her own legs, a boy, about Jack’s age, had clung himself to Y/N’s knees, looking up pleadingly. The sweet smile he thought was reserved for his family had worked its way across her face. He almost missed his own son bounding up to where he had planted himself on the bench.

“Daddy?” Jack called out. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Hotch said distractingly.

“Who are those people with Y/N? Doesn’t she wanna hang out with us?” Aaron was too preoccupied, watching Y/N pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek.

“Can I go say hi to her?” he pleaded, tugging on his dad’s hand.

“Not now, Jack,” he sighed, pulling his now pouting son into his lap. “I think she might be busy, bud.”

Days had passed, without a word from Y/N. Aaron had picked up the phone hundreds of times at that point, wanting to say anything to bring her back into their lives. He had been relying on Jess for help taking care of Jack when he was at work, and had therefore endured a lecture he knew he deserved.

He got in his car to drive home, sighing at the empty passenger seat next to him. His eyes landed on the stuffed penguin he had bought to please Jack. He sighed once more, knowing he had to do something.

The front door of Y/N’s apartment was daunting, unfamiliar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to her place before, but Jack was right when he said their place was her home. She had basically moved in with them, so the varnish that covered the wooden door only seemed threatening of the barrier he had been putting up. He raised his fist, and knocked on the door.

Her eyes widened at the distraught man in front of her, promptly turning into a frown with the recognition of Hotch. She moved to close the door again.

“Y/N, please,” he begged, stoic expression long gone. “I’m sorry.”

“Aaron-”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I hurt you, I know that. But I didn’t mean it.” She stood still, allowing him to speak, and he took a step closer to her, reaching for her hand. “I love you, Y/N. You were never a distraction, only a relief. There’s so much I couldn’t have done with you by our side. We both know you’re not Haley, but I like you better as you are, as someone who cares for my kid like her own, as someone who cares for me when I forget to do it myself.”

Her hiccups of tears flooded the silence that came when he paused, his hand moving up to her cheek. “If I could take it all back, before I said those words, I would in an instant. Just as it was, just as you were. I just hope you still hold your love for me after what I’ve done.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing his nose into her neck as he breathed her in. She sighed, relieved to have one of the Hotchner’s back in her arms. “I love you, Aaron, even when you decide to act like a dick.”

He chuckled against her, squeezing her body against his before pulling back. Brushing away her tears again, he kissed her forehead, making a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let her go again. Her giggle, brought him out of his soft trance.

“Did you bring me a penguin?”

He smiled sheepishly, pressing the stuffed animal into her palm. “Jack got it as an apology gift to you.”

She pressed it against her chest, clutching it the same way his son had days before. “That’s one sweet kid you’ve got there.”’

“One who desperately wants to see you,” he chuckled again.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys. “Let’s go home then.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #thomas gibson #jack hotchner

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

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lonely moonlight (spencer reid/reader)

Title: lonely moonlight

Request: no

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: angst (w/ maybe the tiniest bit of fluff); songfic

Content Warning: thoughts of wanting to cause harm, verbal arguments, mentions of divorce, intrusive thoughts, talks about abortion, mentions of bad mental health, ptsd (?), mentions of anxiety, mentions of needing to get help, someone walking out on their partner, pregnancy, mildly ooc spencer, post prison!reid, swearing (if any) (if i missed anything or something needs to be tagged, please message me and i’ll add it)

Word Count: 6,694

Summary: spencer left his partner and ends up regretting it.

A/N: howdy partners! This is for @badthingshappenbingo (more about that later), blocking off the rejected apology square on my card (pictured at the bottom). this is very loosely based on the song lonely moonlight by ryan ross! this was something i don’t usually write. it’s probably the most angsty fic i’ve ever written... and it’s a little more on the “darker” side. please pay attention to the content warnings, and again if i missed anything, please message me! thank you everyone for the love and support on my other works!! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

The days following up to me leaving were bad. I wondered if that’s what it was like for Aaron and Haley. Although, there were different circumstances between the two of them. Same with David and all 3 of his wives. But, who am I to compare my problems with my superiors and their problems. Although, their wives left them… Not the other way around. Not like how I left you.

I should have stayed. We could have figured everything out. But I left. I think it’s because I got scared and didn’t know how to talk to you. And the reason behind why I got scared is a valid reason… I wanted to cause harm...

“God! This is so ridiculous!” you shouted from across the living room. I watched as you looked around the room, at all the piled up books and files. “I just do not understand you!” Your shout was louder than before, causing me to flinch slightly.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” I returned the shout, watching as it was your turn to flinch. “What do you want!?! Huh!? You know I can’t read your mind!” I stared at you. I wish I had noticed you were crying before I yelled. But that didn’t stop me…

“Spencer!” The way your voice shook didn’t bother me. But what did bother me was the way my hand started to ball up. It scared me. I took a step back, pressing my body against the wall that was closer than I originally thought.

I looked at you before I stormed out of the living room and out of the apartment all together. The sounds of your light footsteps followed behind me, and your faint voice calling out my name. I didn’t stop though, even as you begged me to stay. I couldn’t stay though… Not when I wanted to cause harm to someone I loved.

So, I left.

{***}{***}{***}

I looked down at the file in hand, reading over the case we just returned from. You didn’t come with. It wasn’t the first case you missed, and it wouldn’t be the last. Everyone ignored how awkward and uncomfortable it was in the room where we sat to talk about our cases.

“Hey, Reid,” Luke’s voice pulled my eyes from my case and to look up at him. He nodded towards the door to the bullpen, causing me to follow his gesture.

You were there, walking in like you knew what you wanted and that you were going to get it. I stood up and watched as you walked in more, scanning the room. Our eyes met and I dropped my shoulders as you walked towards Emily’s office. I tossed my file to my desk and practically ran up to you. I nearly tripped over my feet as I met you at the steps to the cat-walk.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Spencer,” you kept your voice low and your head held high. You didn’t even bother to look over at me.

“Please, just a minute. Two minutes. And then you never have to talk to me… again…” I tried to hold my ground but failed when my words broke. My throat and lips nearly betrayed me, closing as the last few syllables failed to come from me. “Let me explain myself,” I whispered, looking at you. If I spoke any louder, I’d fear my voice would crack, forcing me to crack and become a ball of emotions.

You stopped right in front of Emily’s office and looked at me. You looked right at me… I honestly can’t remember the last time I remembered you looking at me, and not right through me. It was well before our last fight, and even before we even started fighting.

“I don’t want to talk to you. You lost that chance when you left,” your tone held authority. I was left speechless as you stepped into the office, shutting the door in my face. Emily closed the blinds, leaving me to wonder what the conversation would be about.

I sulked back to my desk and lowered myself down to my seat. I kept my eyes on the closed-off room, waiting for you to leave. I didn’t want to miss what could be my last chance in ever talking to you again.

“How’d it go?” Luke asked as he appeared beside me and my desk. I sighed, glancing at him, taking my eyes off the door for a brief moment.

“She didn’t want to talk,” I whispered as Luke leaned against my desk. He was also looking at Emily’s office. I tried not to slouch, but it was so hard when it felt like a weight was on my shoulders, weighing me down.

“I don’t blame her,” Luke whispered, resting a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed roughly and closed my eyes.

“Thanks for that, Luke,” I muttered before pulling my shoulder away from his touch.

“Is she talking to Emily?” Penelope’s voice caused me to open my eyes again. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You knew she was coming?” I looked right at Penelope. She was standing beside Luke and looking right at Emily’s office. Jennifer and Tara joined us, standing on the other side of my desk.

“You were the only person she didn’t tell, Spencer,” Jennifer looked at me for a moment. She looked at me like I was the last person she wanted to be around. I didn’t realize you two were so close. You told her everything, and I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. “In fact, you’re the only person here she doesn’t want to see right now.” her tone was cool, and still. And, it made me feel like the bad guy. To be fair… I already felt like the bad guy.

“There’s no need to point that out, Jennifer,” I muttered, picking up the file and looking over it. I tried my hardest to keep focus on the file, but it was so hard when everyone was around me, looking at Emily’s office.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Penelope whispered, wrapping her arm around Luke’s before resting her head on his shoulder. I swallowed roughly and looked over at the door before looking back at Jennifer. She was looking at me, her lips pierced together in a thin line. She was angry and there was nothing I could do to make her not angry.

“Could be anything,” Tara returned. I tried my hardest to keep from rolling my eyes. But I so obviously failed.

“I heard she was transferring,” Jennifer looked away and at Tara. That was it. You were officially leaving and transferring out of the BAU. All Jennifer had to say was that you were leaving and I knew it was true. Again, you tell her everything. So, that’s why you were here…

“That’s not true! She can’t leave!” Penelope protested. I let out an annoyed sigh. “She... She has to stay! She’s a part of the family!” she continued. I almost wanted to snap at her. But, I wasn’t angry at Penelope. No, I wasn’t even mad at you. I was mad at myself.

“She told me that she was. Who knows what Emily is going to tell her.” Jennifer shrugged. I could still feel Jennifer’s eyes on me. Like her eyes were lasers boring a hole into my head.

“I hope wherever she transfers to… She enjoys… I’ll miss her a lot,” Tara walked around to her desk, finally leaving me alone. Now I just need everyone else to go.

We sat in silence, staring at Emily’s door. I couldn’t help but feel my stomach bubble with too many emotions. I wanted to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, but the door to Emily’s office opened and you both stepped out. You guys shared a few more words before you looked over at the group watching for you.

“We were just… Talking,” Penelope smiled at you. I wanted to glare, but I knew I shouldn’t direct my anger at her. In fact, I couldn’t direct my anger anywhere. It was my own fault you were leaving.

You looked away from the group before walking away from Emily. You walked over to my desk and the group of people around it. Our friends. Our family.

“Just talking to Emily about a few things. That’s all,” you whispered. A lie. You didn’t want to tell everyone that you had put in for a transfer… No, what will happen is we’ll all show up to the office, and your desk will be empty, clean of your stuff. “I, uh, wish I could stay. But, I’m having coffee with someone and I don’t want to be late,” you pressed with a fake smile, trying to convince us all you were fine, even though we all knew you weren’t fine.

“You can’t leave,” Penelope looked at you with wide eyes. I could feel my heart rate picked up as I looked up at you. “We aren’t a family if you leave.” she continued, her voice pleading to you. You looked at Jennifer, clearly annoyed that she told everyone that you were leaving.

“Penelope,” Jennifer started, her tone warning.

“Now really isn’t the time, Pen… I seriously have to go. I can’t be late,” you looked at her and shook your head. The look on your face was incredibly apologetic and I knew you were sorry for everyone but me. “I’ll see you guys later,” you flashed everyone a smile before turning to leave. “Goodbye,” you mumbled as you looked at me one last time.

I sighed, dropping my shoulders, as I watched you leave the BAU for the last time. My eyes stayed frozen on the elevator doors as they closed, and I could feel a familiar wetness rolling down my cheeks.

{***}{***}{***}

I’ll have to be honest, this isn’t the first or last day I’ve spent sitting in my office at home, regret filling my head and my heart. The sunset made the room look golden and the rays shone off the various reflective surfaces.

I needed a change of scenery. My apartment, office, and BAU offices were starting to drag me down emotionally and mentally. All places that reminded me of you. So, I packed a book and other things and went to the nearby park… Which is where we’d gone on many picnics.

Why would I go to the park as the day turned into the night? You know, I’m not sure. I just needed something different and the park was the best thing I could think of. It was walking distance and I knew no one would be there to bother me.

That was until I saw you.

You were walking beside Jennifer on the far side of the park. Henry was running around, playing with a remote control car. Michael was sitting on your hip, his head resting on your shoulder as he slept. And something about that looked so natural to me. If I had known you were here with Jennifer and her kids, I wouldn’t have come. I swear.

I kept my head low as I walked towards one of the park benches on the far side of the park. With my book in hand, I continued to pretend that I didn’t see you and prayed that you didn’t see me. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave and go to a different park… It was the familiarity of this one that made me feel safe. Or, maybe it was the chance of you seeing me, and wanting to talk.

“Uncle Spencer?” A young boy’s voice asked as a fire engine red remote control car hit my feet. I closed my book and looked up to see Henry standing in front of me.

“Henry,” I smiled at him. I closed my book and placed it back in my bag. “What are you doing here?" I asked, pretending that I didn't see his mom, little brother, and you.

"Mom brought me," he smiled as he looked over towards Jennifer and you. "She wanted to talk to…" he trailed off the end of his sentence, not wanting to say your name. Jennifer and Will didn't tell him about what happened between us. But he was old enough to know. Considering any event we were both invited to, we avoided each other like the plague. I’m sure he thought it was weird that his aunt and uncle (his god-parents) stopped talking to each other and ignored each other every chance they had.

"That's nice," I felt my smile falter as I nodded, "Is this the race car your dad got you?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Henry. He smiled and nodded as he picked up the car.

“Yeah, mom said I could bring it with while they talked,” he looked down at the toy. I smiled at him and nodded. “It doesn’t go very fast though,” he looked back up at me and pouted.

“I’m sure you could make it go faster. With upgrades.” I smiled at him as he placed the car back to the ground. I watched as he drove the car and spun it out. I watched as he moved it back and forth on the sidewalk in front of us until he drove it away and towards people walking towards us. The small red car hit the feet of two people, causing both Henry and me to look up.

At first, I looked at Jennifer. I knew she wouldn’t be mad to see me. The tense expression her face held told me a different story. Her jaw was clenched and her lips were in a tight line. Her eyes were wide, but the emotion behind them frightened me a bit.

Then I looked over at you. Your hand was resting on Michael’s lower back as you held him. Your hair was in disarray that looked nice, but that’s how you usually wore it anyways. You had bags under your eyes, they were a deeper color than they were before, it was a clear sign that you had obviously lost sleep. And then you looked at me, fear and sadness in your eyes. The golden sunshine shone across your face, highlighting the important details. The details I loved. But, also details that you didn’t deserve to have, all because of the stress I caused.

I rushed to stand to my feet, my bag falling off the bench and spilling its contents all over the ground. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to talk to you.

“H-hey,” I looked at you, then back at Jennifer, then back at you. You kept your eyes on me as I fumbled over my words, trying to find the right thing to say. “I was just… I just wanted to come out to read and go for a walk,” I spoke, trying to find a pliable excuse to be here, at the public park. It wasn’t even an excuse. I was actually here to read. I don’t know why I need to explain why I was here.

“You’re allowed to be at the park, Spencer,” you whispered back. I stared at you before I realized something. You spoke to me. And it was the first time too since you transferred out from the BAU. We stared at each other, feeling an awkward tension grow between us.

Jennifer cleared her throat, causing me to rip my eyes from you and look at the ground. I silently cursed myself when I noticed all my belongings on the ground. I fell to my knees and pushed all my things back into my bag.

“We should get going. I know Will should be home soon and we can get a head start on dinner.” Jennifer spoke, causing me to snap my head to look at her. You were staring at where I was standing, but not at me.

“Yeah, yeah… That’s probably a good idea,” you looked at Jennifer and smiled, “Michael here is getting a little bit heavy,” you let out a very forced laugh. I stood back up before brushing the debris off my pants. You and Jennifer (even Henry) look at me with wide eyes.

“Can we talk?" I asked, nearly begging, as I looked at you. You refused to look at me again. And I could see a familiar wetness in your eyes. My shoulders instantly sagged as I looked at you and watched tears begin to form in your eyes. My heart sank to my stomach, which then sunk to the ground. “Please?” I whispered.

“Henry, are you ready to go?” You looked down at the boy, who was holding his red race car. I swallowed roughly, watching as you offered Henry your hand. You looked back at me before leading Henry away from Jennifer and I.

I reached out my hand to stop you but failed when Jennifer stepped in front of me. I looked back at her, ready to protest her stopping me.

“Jennifer, please,” I thought I shouted, but I’m sure it was hardly above a whisper. She dropped her hand from my arm and looked at the ground. I watched as you brought Henry and Michael back to the Jaraeu-LaMontange mini-van. Something about the way you carried Michael and helped Henry looked very natural. I couldn’t place my finger on why though.

“Leave her alone,” Jennifer whispered, pulling my attention back to her. I looked at her with wide eyes, my lips parted my mouth dry of words.

“I need to talk to her,” I whispered as I gathered my things again. I put the strap of my bag back over my body as I held a death-grip on my book. “I have to talk to her,” I turned to leave, but stopped when Jennifer grasped my hand again. “Jennifer,” I warned as I looked at her.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Okay? Give her time to figure stuff out,” she spoke. Her tone was low and had a certain demanding tone to it. “She went from having you in her life 24-7 to not having you at all. Give her time, Spence,”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered as I looked to the ground, “How much time?” I looked back up at Jennifer with tears threatening to fall.

“I don’t know. You left her without an explanation, Spence. And she needs time to heal… To fix herself… To rebuild herself… She ju-” She bit her lips together to stop herself from saying something. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong? She just what?” I dropped my shoulders as I looked at her. She looked at me and shook her head.

“Just leave her alone for right now. She’ll come to you when she’s ready,” Jennifer half-warned. I went to argue back but failed when she looked at me before leaving. I sat back down on the bench and buried my face into my hands. A frustrated sigh left my lips as I pushed my fingers through my hair.

I looked up and over at the mini-van. You and Jennifer were sitting in the front seat, talking to each other. And I noticed that you looked over at me once or twice. I let out another frustrated sigh before standing up and walking back home.

The thoughts and memories filled my head of when you were mine and I was yours and before I made a stupid decision. The sunshine was almost fully gone by the time I returned home and it was safe to say this was another day I lost filled with regret.

{***}{***}{***}

My body jerked, forcing me to wake up and sit in bed. The bedding and blankets pooled around my waist as I felt the bed beside me. There was a moment where I forgot you weren’t there and panic settled in my stomach. And then I remembered.

The darkness of the room started to feel claustrophobic and I panicked in the night. I nearly knocked everything off my nightstand as I went to turn the lamp.

You would always tell me not to be afraid of the dark (or anything for that matter). But, ever since I left and we no longer saw each other, I was afraid. I looked over at where you once slept and reached my hands out over the blankets to feel for you. Even though I knew you weren’t there, I wished you were.

I sighed deeply before kicking the blankets off me. My body was on auto-pilot, and I found myself in the kitchen. The tea kettle was on the stove, waiting for the water to warm up. The clock on the stove read 3:13 in the morning.

The moonlight illuminated the living room, the silver lighting hitting the coffee table, floor, and the various stacks of books. It sort of reflected my mood for the last few months. I wondered if you felt this way. Probably not.

I sat down on the couch and turned the lamp on. A random book was in my hand, and my nose was in it. I was not retaining any of the information as I read, or looked at the words.

A knock on the door honestly scared me. I wasn’t expecting anyone at my home at 3:30 in the morning. I looked down at my book before placing it on the couch beside me. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around my body, hiding my pajamas from whoever was at the door.

I don’t know who I was expecting when I looked through the peephole. Maybe it was a hitman coming to kill me. No, no that’s entirely too dark. Serial Killer? Maybe a burglar? No, burglars don’t knock. Could be Luke coming over, drunk because the woman he was sleeping with told him to leave. Or, maybe Penelope wanted to have a late-night Doctor Who marathon. Of all the people and things to be at my door…

I wasn’t expecting you.

You were standing on the other side, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your hair still in messy disarray (this time it was because of restless sleep and a clear emotional breakdown). I couldn’t tell if the makeup you had on during the day was washed away by your tears, or if you cleaned your face before the day ended. But I could see faint streaks on your cheeks. You wore a pair of flannel pants with a very big sweater.

It had been a few days (okay, weeks… Month and a half…) since I saw you at the park. My heart nearly stilled as I looked at you in the peephole. My body was paralyzed against the door. I watched as you lifted your hand and knocked again.

Except you didn’t get to knock, I had pulled the door open before you hit the door. You looked at me with shock on your face.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” you whispered, dropping your gaze from my face. I stared at you with wide eyes. You came, expecting me to be asleep… I wondered what you would have done if I was asleep, and if you would have told me you showed up to my house so early in the morning (or late at night. Depends on how you look at it.).

“No, no… It’s okay. I was awake anyway. I was working on some files,” I lied and waved my hand off like it was nothing. “No, wait… Sorry. I was already awake. I was reading The Narrative of John Smith. I wasn’t doing any extra work,” I looked back at you.

“Why… Why were you awake?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. I watched as you brought your hand to your lips and bit your thumbnail. That was one of the many nervous ticks you had, and I wanted nothing more than for you to not be nervous around me.

“Couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d have some tea and read a little bit.” I looked over my shoulder towards my book and teacup. I quickly looked back at you, scared you wouldn’t actually be there when I looked back. I let out a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on you. “What are you doing here?” I watched as you looked at the door jamb.

“I, uh, I’m ready to, uh… I’m ready to talk,” you whispered as you looked at me. You folded your arms over your chest as you kept your eyes on me. This was the first time I noticed that you looked different. And not because you were awake at 3:30 in the morning in the midst of a breakdown. You looked different and I didn’t know how to explain it.

“You’re… You’re ready to talk?” I asked, my voice suddenly trembling as I looked at you. You nodded as you wiped your eyes with your fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, uh…” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at the ground. “Figured it was time. Been a few months and wanted to talk,” you whispered at the ground. I stepped to the side and pulled the door open more.

“Do you want tea?” I asked, knowing tea calms you down. You looked back up at me and nodded lightly. You stepped into my apartment (which at some point was our apartment) and went right to the couch. I stood still for a moment before retreating to the kitchen.

I quickly poured the hot water into a new teacup. I grabbed a chamomile tea bag, the milk, and a bottle of honey before going back out to you.

“Chamomile… I brought you the milk and honey too. If you want something else and sugar… Or… Anything.” I whispered as I sat back down where I once was. I placed the items on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” you whispered, putting the tea bag into the cup.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to figure out why the hell you were here and if I was actually dreaming. You steeped the bag a little bit in the water, your eyes looking at the steam swirling off the water.

“I could lie and say yes, but I don’t think that’d be fair to you, Spencer,” you finally looked at me. Tears were sitting in your eyes, threatening to fall. I shifted in my seat, turning to look at you more. “Everything is not okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. I scanned the room, looking for a box of tissues. I got up and grabbed them for you. You took a few before blowing your nose.

“I’m-”

“Let me talk… Please, before you apologize,” you cut me off as you looked at me. I nodded and kept my eyes on you. You were still looking at me, the tears started rolling down your cheeks and you used your sleeve to dry them. You licked your lips as you looked for the right words to say. “JJ didn’t want me to come over,” you whispered, finally taking your eyes off me. You looked back at the steaming water. I could feel a familiar anger bubbling in my stomach, that was directed towards Jennifer. Of course, she didn’t want you to come over. “So I left when I knew she was asleep. I think the last time I did that was when I was 16,” you let out a dry laugh before you sipped your tea.

I stared at you, taking in the way you sat in a moment of silence. You were probably thinking of what you wanted to say. You were never good with words and articulating them. But, neither was I. “You know, like when you would sneak out of your house so whoever you were with didn’t wake up? God, I did that a lot as a teenager,” you laughed before sipping your tea. You shivered as the hot tea went down your throat. “Anyways, sorry… Basically, JJ doesn’t know I’m here,” you momentarily glanced at me before looking back at your tea.

“I won’t tell her you came,” I whispered as I turned to face you more. I watched as you leaned over and placed the teacup on the coffee table. You grabbed a random throw pillow off the couch and hugged it close to your body, as if it was some sort of protection.

“I don’t think you understand how hard life has been for me the last couple of months, Spencer,” you whispered, keeping your eyes anywhere but me. I furrowed my eyebrows, not because I was confused. But because I wasn’t sure what you were going to say. “And… and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why you left, and what I did wrong to make you leave, and… I’m still working on getting better… But, I found something out and it broke me back down…” you whispered as you looked over at me. You were very cautious as you looked at me. Tears were fresh in your eyes again, and I knew you weren’t going to be able to control them. You sniffled and closed your eyes.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want it to go any louder in fear of my voice breaking the slightest bit. Tears started to blur my vision as I looked at you.

“Why’d you leave me in the first place?” You asked instead of answering me. Part of me wanted to point out that you answered my question with a question. But I didn’t bother.

“I got scared of losing you,” I whispered and looked down at the couch. That was partly true. I did, indeed, fear losing you. That wasn’t the whole truth… I was scared of losing you but I was more scared of hurting you.

I wrinkled my nose as tears started running down my cheeks. “And, I didn’t think about the consequences and outcome of me just… leaving,” I looked up at you. I left out the true reasoning for me leaving you. I could tell you knew I was leaving something out. But neither of us wanted to point it out.

“You did a lot more than lose me, Spencer,” you dryly laughed again as you spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yes, I know. And it was a mistake. You don’t understand how much I regret leaving. I’ve never wanted to take something back so badly in my entire li-”

“I’m pregnant, Spencer,” you cut me off and spoke. Your tone was filled with authority and you were so sure when you spoke. It totally caught me off guard, I wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Wh-what? You’re what?” I stared at you, my lips parted and eyes wide. I swear my heart stopped as I tried to comprehend what you said. Or… it was going so fast and I just couldn't feel it.

“I’m pregnant. And, obviously, it’s yours. I’ve contemplated so many things. But, I think you would have killed me if you didn’t know,” you whispered as you looked away from me. I looked at you, trying to find the right words to say, but I couldn’t figure out what to say.

Then I thought back to the park. You were so dismissive, which is allowed considering the things I had done and said to you. Or the lack of things said to you. But then I remembered how natural Michael looked in your arms and how you were with Henry and how different you seemed. Jennifer was talking about you, about you just-ing something but she cut herself off… Jennifer knows.

“Does Jennifer-”

“Yes, she knows. She knew when we saw you at the park… And she knew when I talked to Emily about transferring,” you whispered, picking at the fabric of pajamas. Your voice was so soft, I felt bad for leaving you and I tried to not be mad at you for keeping something so big from me. “Emily knows too…” you answered my next question.

“You’ve known for that long?” I finally found words to say. You looked at me like you were a kid who was getting in trouble. But you weren’t getting in trouble. I was just… Mad at myself.

“I… I, uh, I didn’t know what to do. And, JJ was the only person I could talk to about it.” Your words were soft and quiet and you avoided me and my eyes like the plague.

I wanted to be mad… But I didn’t exactly have the right to be mad at you. After all the things I did to you? It wasn’t fair if I snapped at you. You knew this too. You knew me well enough to know that I wanted to be mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked after some time had passed. It felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a mere few minutes.

“Because… I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay in DC… I wasn’t sure if I even wanted it…”

“Clearly you do if you’re telling me,” I whispered and looked at you. You looked at me, ready to protest, but failed when you realized I was right. You knew I was right. Why else would you be telling me that you’re pregnant if you didn’t want it? You dropped your head before nodding.

“There’s more to you leaving me though, isn’t there? It wasn't just about losing me,” you asked, changing the subject back to me. You didn’t want to talk about your pregnancy that you’ve known about for several months. So, I swallowed roughly before nodding. “What was it? Were you cheating on me? Were you bored with me? Did I do something wrong? Was it something I did? Or was it something I didn't do?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong… It was all me…” I paused and looked up at you. You were looking at me, intently watching me. I took a deep breath as I lifted my hand to wipe your cheeks. “I wasn’t cheating on you, and I wasn’t bored with you,” I pulled my hand back to my lap and flexed my fingers. “I think it was just… Work was getting overwhelming… And,” my words trailed off for a moment, causing me to sigh.

“That’s not a good enough reason, Spencer, you know that,” you looked at me and shook your head. Your tone was short. There was no hiding it, you knew there was something else. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth… But, I had to.

“The issue stopped being the actual problem… and it became me wanting to hurt you… And… And I never want to feel that way… Be-because I love you.” I looked up at you, watching the tears slip down your cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt the people that I love,” my voice was hardly above a whisper, “I guess… I-I need help, and I didn’t realize it till… till I had those thoughts,” I could feel my words shaking as I spoke. You looked at me with worry in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you whispered. I looked up at you and watched as you reached over, nervously placing your hand on my knee. I looked at you and let out a deep breath. Part of me wasn’t so sure we should be having this conversation at 4 in the morning. But here we are, having it. “After everything you’ve been through, with… With prison, and… and Cat, and Scratch…” your words trailed off as you spoke of the horrors I’ve lived through within the last few years, “Of course you need help… And… And we can get you the help that you need,” you whispered as you looked up at me. My eyes stayed glued to the hand you had resting on my knee. You were here… With me...

“It was just too much… And… I-I’m happy I didn’t do anything…. To…” I paused and took a shaky breath, but also to keep myself from saying that I almost did hurt you. Although, I did hurt you when I left. “I just didn’t know how to ask for help, even when I didn’t reali-”

"Spencer,” you started, your voice low and quiet. I could hear the raspiness in your voice. I’m sure it was the exhaustion of life for you. And it was my fault...

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I whispered. I knew just saying sorry wasn’t going to be enough. Something else needed to be said, but I didn’t know what. “I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t help but repeat my apology even as I brought a hand to cover my eyes, and as I fell forward to let a sob go through my body.

“Hey, hey, Spence, it’s okay…” You whispered as you rested a hand on my back. I could feel you move closer to me as you embraced me better. I sat up and looked over at you. “I… I can’t accept your apology right… right now… But, I think we can work on it. We both need help… We can help and heal… Together…” you turned to face me more. Your gentle hands grasped both mine, holding them in the space between our bodies.

“It’s something we’ll both have to work on,” you looked at me before looking down at our hands. I stared at you, waiting to hear you continue. My heart was beating faster than it should and I was only a little worried about it stopping. I could feel my palms getting hot and sweaty on the leather couch.

“You… You…” I swallowed roughly and squeezed my eyes shut. Tears rolled down my cheeks, causing me to roughly push them away.

“Obviously I want you back in my life, Spencer. I’m sure you’re aware of how hard these few months have been for me,” you whispered, your voice so soft, I’m happy there were no other sounds. I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard you if it was 4 in the afternoon instead of 4 in the morning. “But, you have to understand, things are going to have to change in order for us to work. Especially now… that I’m pregnant,” you whispered and nodded.

“Of course! No, I know that! I understand that more than anything in the world.” I moved closer to you and nodded. My heart finally returned to it’s normal speed. “I’ll stay. And not because you’re pregnant. I knew I wanted you back right when I realized my mistake,” I whispered, looking down at our hands. Your hand was on top of mine, and your thumb rubbed the back of my hand. “I can’t apologize enough, because no matter how many times I apologize… Sorry won’t be enough.” I wrinkled my nose and looked back at you.

“I’m not going to give you anymore second chances, Spencer. Please, understand that… You have to get help… If not for me, or yourself, for our child…” You spoke with a sureness in your voice. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you were going to get it. Honestly, I was going to give it to you too.

“No, no, I do… I do understand… I’ll get all the help I can. I promise,” I kept my eyes on you. A worried feeling overtook my body, I was worried that all of this was just a dream and you’d be gone when I’d wake up. But you were here and it wasn’t just a dream.

At this point, I’d be willing to do anything to keep you safe, and our unborn child safe. I knew I didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to miss any moments or chances of a family. Considering you were my family and I’ve known that for a long time. I didn’t want to lose any more time with you. These last few months without you were the roughest, and I didn’t want that anymore.

taglist: @thebluetint , @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

(if you would like to be a part of the taglist just let me know :) )

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #doctor spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid x you #doctor spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years

Text

Regrets // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1557

warnings // angst, mentions of abusive relationships (not details)

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader, Ethan Torchio x Platonic!Reader

author's note // taglist here. please only let me know if you want to be tagged on that google form so i know what to tag you on, thank you

I KNOW I MADE HER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE BUT MY ANGSTY ASS NEEDED SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO BE ABLE TO WRITE THIS FIC SOOO... I LOVE VICTORIA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S AN ASSHOLE AND THE WHOLE I BULLY YOU MEANS I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU TROPE IS STUPID IN EVERY OTHER OCCASION BUT IN FANFICTION ITS FINE

also i changed the original tittle because i didnt like it that much

request // yes

summary // Reader is Ethan's best friend and because of that they are around the band a lot. Maybe a hint of jealously, a toxic partner and a visit at the hospital will be enough to change their relationship with Victoria from hate to love. Or maybe the love was there all along.

The first time the two met each other was right after the band finally united. Y/N’s had been Ethan’s best friend for years now, making the fateful meeting inevitable - as well as the obscure amount of time they would have to spend around each other. If anything, the drummer was attached to the hip with his best friend, tagging them along to every show, many rehearsals (there was even a suggestion to come with him on Måneskin’s European tour - it would be a nightmare if they did).

Victoria did not take long to adopt a defensive mode against them, one that not even she could decipher. Maybe it was the way they were just always there, like leech attached to her bandmate, or maybe it was that annoying way they dressed, all out there and attracting her attention, or maybe it was that stupid girlfriend of theirs that just had to make it known they were a couple. She really did get on Victoria’s nerves a awful lot. She was nice, not going to lie, just maybe a little too nice - ickly nice, she’d say. She wasn’t sure why but that girl simply made Victoria’s gut drop every time.

For years, as that relationship lasted, Victoria and Y/N would butt heads, always at each other’s throat with something to say and complain about. What are they doing here again, the bassist would ask over and over again. Just here to piss you off, Y/N would say, walking to Ethan. Other times it’d be the opposite. It just always was… a mess.

Everyone could see the situation the two found themselves into but no one could do anything. No, not until they opened their own damn eyes.

The dislike between the two only grew stronger and stronger as time passed by, with their insults getting worse. Truth be told, no one expected it to get that bad, and now they just hoped to stop.

For a while, Y/N was facing some drama in the relationship, some that could end up pretty bad. Not few were the nights Ethan would get a phone call in the middle of rehearsal, sobbing heard even beyond his phone. Please, please come get me Ethan. I don’t think …. The rest was inaudible for Victoria, not that I care, she would remind herself, moving on with her work.

On occasion she’d joke about it to Y/N. What? Trouble in paradise, cucciolo? Oh well. Deep down she knew she should not say that but she could not control herself. Y/N was pretty put together some of those times, others they’d just snap with no regard to anything. Just shut your fucking mouth, they said once adding a few profanities to explain their anger.

After the fourth time it happened the blonde had gotten genuinely angry. “Ok, enough. Close your phone, Ethan,” she spat out, almost snatching it off his hand. “They can wait.”

“But-”

“No! They have cut short three out of our four rehearsals this week! This is the fifth rehearsal, Ethan, their fourth time! They’re a big kid now, they should not need you all the time.”

In time she would regret those words but in that moment they seemed appropriate. She had grown exasperated at their constant interruptions. Well, most of the time they were not really disturbing - they’d call on a break or just cuddle with Ethan on a break, at a time they had for the solemn reason of relaxing - but Victoria would not admit that. Not to herself and not to anyone.

“Ok.” Ethan whispered the words, silencing his phone with a heavy heart. He had a bad feeling, that he knew for sure, but he did not feel like fighting with the blond bassist.

The hours they worked passed by quickly, feeling more like quick moving water, their session was simply flowing. It was now quiet, maybe around three in the morning. 2.58 AM read the clock on the table. Ethan was sure his best friend was sleeping by now. He’d shoot them a text and then go to sleep as well - lord knows he needed it. Well, not everything always goes as planned.

Victoria was by him when it happened.

His phone started to ring while he was about to walk to his room. Y/N. If he was not concerned earlier that night there was no way he was not now. It was not common for them to call at hours like this, if anything they were usually asleep by eleven, maybe even twelve.

“Pronto. Che? A- cazzo, sì, sì. Sto venendo ora.” showing off my italian lol

“Ethan? What happened?” She was not sure of her feelings in that instant. Why was she even asking him? She did not care about them, right? But no, no, it was not worry. It was fear of guilt. And worry, but that she was not aware of.

“Y/N is at the hospital,” he breathed out, “they- uhm… Their ex hurt them - thank god their neighbor was there and heard what happened. Oh my- if-if-if he was not there Y/N-”

Victoria could not stand seeing her friend like that. She believes that she’s never once seen Ethan this emotional - not negatively emotional, that is. He always keeps his composure so well but this time it just was not possible. The blonde just stood there now, holding Ethan in her arms, whispering comforting things to him, hoping that he’d calm down a bit.

“I-I should’ve answered the phone Vic… It- I could have prevented this. Oh god, it’s my-”

“Ethan no! If it’s anyone’s fault here, it’s mine. I should not have snapped like I did.”

“I- yeah. Yeah, you know what, yeah, it is your fault.” He was sad, he was anxious, he was angry… A whirlwind of emotions really, and Victoria’s statement made him target it to her. “It is your fault Vic, with that-that stupid, stupid, conflict you two have. I’m leaving.”

“Where are yo-”

“To the hospital! Where the fuck else?” Ethan’s voice was rising by the second, as his blood started boiling in his veins. He knew he could not drive there, but he was not about to say it.

“I’ll drive you-”

“No. I can do it on my own.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” Victoria’s eyes were cast to the floor, unsure of what else to do. She knew that things were taken too far this time, the least she could do was drive her friend to the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Neither knew what to say. Victoria was feeling guilty, afraid, and even worried about Y/N’s well-being, regardless of whether she could she tried to focus on the road. More injured people would not be helpful. Ethan on the other hand was fuming. He was angry out of his head; at his blonde friend, at himself and most of all that bitch, Y/N’s ex. She was the one to cause all of this, all of it, even problems he was not aware she was the cause of.

As they arrived there there was even more trouble on their way. He’s not family, he’s not a spouse, neither is Victoria. It was always like that. They would not let them pass if they were not either of those things but, god bless that man, the nurse that called him showed up, recognizing the voice and assuring the nurse, on the front, that he was indeed the only person on their emergency contacts, they had to pass. With a lot of complaining they were finally let to pass.

When they walked in the room Y/N was laying on the bed asleep and at first both their minds went to the worst case scenario. “I have given them some painkillers for now. They’ll be ok but some injuries cause severe pain -” he was walking outside along with Ethan.

Victoria was now left alone in the room with Y/N, although it felt as if she was looking at a photo of them rather than the real life Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only thing that felt right to do at that moment. “It’s my fault -oh my it is! Ethan, he-he wanted to respond to the call by I-I got so angry!” She cried out, now grasping Y/N’s hand. “I can only hope he can forgive me. Hell, I hope you forgive me. It’s my fault you’re-”

“It’s not, Victoria.”

“You are awake?”

“It’s not your fault. I was already here when I called the first time. Neither of you could have changed a thing.” They were so calm - maybe it was the painkillers, she thought. “Thank you. For the apology I mean.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I-”

“Hey, stop! It’s ok. What’s by is by,” they laughed, never missing the opportunity to joke. (you know, bi - by… terrible pun)

“I, uh,” she paused, thinking of what to say next. She remembered a small chocolate bar in her pocket. She was about to eat it when the call happened. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat chocolate but I know you like it.”

“Oh my, it’s my favorite,” they gushed, prompting Vic to come closer.

“Come, sit, sit! We can share it.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

#måneskin #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic #måneskin x reader #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis imagine

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hannaswritingblog · 3 years

Text

Imagine: Selina Kyle reacting to you being a politician

Fandom: Gotham

Tags/themes: politician!reader, politics au

Collab with @winterxisxcomingx who inspired and convinced me to write a fic with politician!reader and helped me decide on the fandom, despite not yet being a part of this specific one.

A/N: Although basically originating from an inside joke, this is probably one of my best works so far, or at least one of the easiest and most fun things to write, and I feel it ended up being very much in character for Selina. Just so you know. :D

You often have trouble finding Selina. Gotham with its dark corners and high buildings provides plenty of fine hideouts for people in need, even when they need to hide from people making their way to the top, holding positions of authority. Or maybe especially when they need to hide from authority?

On the other hand, Selina is yet to know that you're a politician. She probably doesn't think she has to hide from you. It's also true that when you first met, you hadn't decided on your career, so you didn't hide anything by not saying you're one back then, and then... it just never popped up in your conversations.

You've been wanting to talk to your friend for the whole day, and with your persistence, you finally find her on a top of a building downtown, standing close to the edge. It doesn't surprise you to find her in such a place anymore, so you only greet her by saying:

'Nice to see you, Cat.'

Selina turns around and smiles lightly at your sight.

'Hi, Y/N. I didn't expect to see you here.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. I haven't seen you much lately.'

'I've been busy with work.'

'Work?' she says, seemingly surprised. 'You didn't mention work before.'

'Oh, it's because... it's... new.' With your heart suddenly starting to rush, you hesitate if you should tell her everything.

'What is that work exactly?' she asks the question you've dreaded for the last couple of days.

'Something in the city hall.'

'Well, could you specify? I think a lot of different people work there.'

You stay quiet, not knowing how exactly put it into words. Your silence is enough for her to start realising what really is going on.

'Don't tell me you got into politics.'

'If you want the truth, that's what I need to tell you. I'm a politician now.'

She scoffs, turning her head away. When she starts walking towards the door leading to the roof, you stop her by saying:

'Selina, I'm sorry! I should've told you earlier.'

'You think you should've told me?' she raises her voice, walking back up to you. 'What you should've done is not become a politician! You... you know what those people are like! They're corrupt, they don't care about anyone or anything except themselves. They're just... not cool. And I believed you were cool.'

Her calling you cool leaves you dumbfounded for a couple of seconds. When you finally manage to let anything out of your mouth, you say:

'But... you know me. I'm not like that. I don't have to be like other politicians. I'm the same person I was two months ago, and you know I've done so much good for you. I can still do good.'

'I don't know, Y/N,' she whispers, shrugging her shoulders. 'I don't know if I can trust you with that anymore. All I know is that I'll still be out there, fighting for survival, when you work your way into luxury.'

This time you don't stop her when she walks away. You regret the choices you made, mainly not telling her earlier. You know you dissapointed her greatly. But you also know you can't quit the path you chose. It's an opportunity to prove Selina she's wrong with judging people just by their occupation, especially when she knew them before; an opportunity to help others. The person she saw as cool is still there after all.

#we could be playing with fire with this one but it's too fun xD #also not me writing one of my personal favourite fics in 5 minutes #Hanna's writing #hannaswritingblog #fanfiction #imagine #gif imagine #gotham #gotham fanfiction #gotham imagine #selina kyle #selina kyle fanfiction #selina kyle imagine #selina kyle x reader #gender neutral reader #politician reader #politics au #collab #winterxisxcomingx

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yukisflowergarden · 2 years

Text

Flowers 🌸 Chapter 4- Who is your ideal partner?

Mammon x Mc

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Taglist- @yaboihack

If anyone wants a tag when I continue don’t be afraid to ask and I’ll happily do so💜

Previous🌸

^here is chapter 3/ link to the previous chapter

Authors note:

I remember reading something that was like this from a different fandom, however I can’t remember the original author who gave me this idea, so if anyone knows please let me know!

Also this is my first time writing a fic series, so I’d love the feed back, and feel free to be as harsh as you need to be, I want to become better at writing fics and stories, so then I can be better in future series!

(Also just for context to understand the story, just think about how you weren’t chosen for the exchange program, and instead you were the one to be the one to oversee the exchange student, *in this case mammon*) - Yes I’m adding this author note to every chapter, don’t question it.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

(Y/N’s POV)

There was a burning on my wrist as Mammon said those words.

“It’s like the world doesn’t even want us to meet our soulmate huh?” I said which caught Mammons attention real quick.

“I gotta admit human,…ya gotta good point there.” He said with a smile, making me blush instantly.

“What do you hope your soulmates like?” This caught him off guard, and he began to stutter. “Hehe,sorry I didn’t mean to take you by surprise,or make it sound like I was intruding on you.”

“Ya better be sorry! Geese don’t go askin people those kinds of things!” His gaze switch to the ground, a blush flaring up on his cheeks. “But I guess if ya really wanna know…”

Suddenly Mammons phone rang, and he had to excuse himself from the conversation. “sorry, it’s my brother, I’ll be back in a sec!” And just like that,…he disappeared into his room.

(3rd p POV)

“Hm? What’s up? I’m in the middle of a conversation with the human”, Mammon said, with an annoyed tone. He wanted to be near you,… he didn’t know why he wanted to but, he did.

“Excuse you?”

Crap, it was Lucifer! Mammon immediately regretted his words. It came up as Asmo.

Lucifer let out a loud sigh,”I just wanted to check up on you, I wanted to make sure weren’t causing trouble up there. Also, who are you staying with any way?”

“Ya can’t trust me with anything can ya? Anyway,I’m staying with this human, their names Y/N, and…their actually really nice.” Mammon smiled just thinking about Y/N.

(Damit Mc!!! Ya got him being all soft and mushy! And he doesn’t like it *insert pouty face*)

“Very well then, well I need to go I have a meeting in 5 minutes anyway, so just make sure to not cause any trouble for anyone, or else…okay Mammon?” He said in a stern voice.

“Yeah,yeah, cya.” Mammon said before hanging up. “Ughhhh! He’s such a bummer!” Mammon shouted followed by a knock upon his door.

(3rd person Pov)

“Hey Mammon, you okay in there?” Y/N said in a quiet tone

“Yeah, sorry it was just my brother calling me.” He said, opening the door and walking out. “Anyway, what we’re ya talking about?”

“Mmm, you were talking about your ‘ideal’ soulmate.” Mammon then burst into a fit of blush,”ah, r-right,yeah.”

Sitting down in the couch, you both got comfortable before Mammon begins to speak. “I guess if I had to say who my ideal type of soulmate would be, is…” Mammon hesitated before speaking up. “Someone who likes me for, me, who isn’t just in it for the looks, or my status, but actually Someone who likes my personality, doesn’t judge me for my hobbies, my dislikes.” Mammons eyes began to water at the memory of his home life, with his brothers, everything.

He didn’t want to be with someone who couldn’t care less about Mammons true feelings, or the ‘I don’t care what or who you are as long as you please my needs’ type of person. He loved his brothers truly, but it was just hard to believe when they said that they really did love him, and it was only to make Mammon a better person. I although it might be true, it still hurt.

(Y/N’s pov)

It was obvious that my question made him uncomfortable in a way, I felt bad, maybe I hit a little too close to home…“You okay Mammon? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

I was quickly interrupted by Mammon giving a small laugh, only just auditable. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” He said rubbing his eyes. The small tingling sensation on my wrist appeared again, and that’s what confuses me.

It’s never done this before, it’s never burned like this, nor this often. There’s no way it was Mammon, right? Ugh, there’s no way. I don’t mean that as in ‘uhh, I hate that’s he’s the one’ no I mean it as in ‘he’s just an exchange student, and after this year, I’ll never see him after this. … But maybe if I were to just enjoy our lives, even if it weren’t for long,…No! Y/N stop it! You’ll only be heart broken if you spend, what? Only half a year with each other? I need to ignore this feeling. Besides, it could always just be another exchange student, right? What if it wasn’t even Mammon after all?

(3rd person pov)

“A-anyway human, it’s your turn now! I told you, now ya gotta tell me! It’s suppose ta be fair game here!” Mammon said, eyes fluttering everywhere but Y/Ns gaze.

“Oh you mean my ideal soulmate?” Giving a small giggle, “well if you insist on knowing…”

*_Time skip_*

It didn’t take long before the weekend was over, and the 2nd week of school was about to begin…

<><><><><>

Dam, I know this one is short but the next will be semi-long-ish. Let me know if I should continue with this series or just ditch it.

I’m loosing a little bit of modulation, and always seeking out ideas that you guys may suggest to me. I can’t guarantee that I will add the idea, but I will defiantly take it in thought.

#obey me #fanfic #mammon x mc #mammonobeyme #obey me mammon

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isamijoo · 3 years

Text

Antidote

Written for @gameofdrarry Exploding Snap 2021. My card was:

Write a Drarry fic of 987-1625 words following this prompt: Immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and Harry are advised to go to therapy or to see a Healer to help them develop appropriate coping strategies. How do they feel when they run into each other unexpectedly?

Title: Antidote

Author: isamijoo

Rating: T

Word Count: 1612

Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Talks about Healers and Therapy, Invisibility Cloak, Astronomy Tower

A/N: I did have some trouble with this. I'm not comfortable writing about therapies so you can see how I avoided that and instead focused more on the boys, namely Draco. I purposely kept it short because of the word limit. I included bits of what I wanted to include, so the fic ends up feeling like random scenes thrown together, which doesn't sound really appealing. But I feel satisfied with how it turned out. Thank you to @sky-is-torn for the beta!

READ ON AO3

~~~

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the administration wanted to ensure the returning students would continue their education feeling secure and safe in all aspects. Thus, at the beginning of term, staff noticed a new door next to the Infirmary. The door, the Headmistress explained during the welcoming feast, led to the offices of two Mind Healers, Healer Park and Healer Algot.

Every student was required to meet either one of the Healers at least once. The first session was marked on each student’s schedule; skipping the session would cost house points and incur detentions.

Draco Malfoy was forced to return to Hogwarts as part of his sentencing. He joined the other Eighth Years, though he kept mostly to himself. Draco rarely sat in the Eighth Year Common Room because it was often taken up by Gryffindors, who made up a majority of their year.

Harry Potter was always around, but Draco never knew what the Saviour was up to.

Potter had cut his hair short, though still untamed and unruly. He was clean-shaven and sported a new pair of round-rimmed spectacles. He had also grown since sixth year. Perhaps now that the Dark Lord was dead, he finally had time to eat properly.

Sometimes their eyes would meet during classes or meals — silver with green. Potter would stare at him, unblinking. Draco was always the first one to look away.

~~~

When it was time for Draco to visit the Healers, he went without putting up a fuss.

He halted at the door when he saw Potter in the waiting room. Potter was seated in one of the two armchairs, slouched and flipping through a magazine. He hadn’t noticed Draco yet.

Draco walked to the registration desk, which was manned by a thin woman with greying hair. There were two white doors beside her, each labelled with the name of a Healer.

After registering, Draco was instructed to take a seat. The only available one was beside Potter, who now had his gaze fixated on Draco, magazine forgotten.

“Malfoy, how are you?” Potter smiled.

Draco lowered himself onto the armchair, back straight and hands folded in his lap. “I’m fine, thank you,” he said stiltedly.

“It’s good to see you here,” Potter said. “What are the odds of the two of us having a session at the same time? Maybe they arranged the timetable in alphabetical order."

Draco tilted his head and regarded Potter curiously, which made the other wizard chuckle nervously.

“You know, like the Sorting. I went directly after you.”

“The Sorting in first year? You remember that?”

Potter shrugged, mumbling, “I remember a lot of things about you.”

“Look, Potter,” Draco muttered wearily, cheeks warm. “Why are you talking to me?”

Potter rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re not children anymore, Malfoy. The war is over.”

Before he could retort, Draco was called to meet Healer Park while Potter went into Healer Algot’s office. Healer Park was a middle-aged gentleman with kind brown eyes. Draco wasn’t too forthcoming, so the Healer just asked him harmless ice-breaking questions. After an hour, the Healer gave him another appointment slip for the following week.

Potter got the same slip too.

Before they exited the waiting room, Potter suggested they grab some snacks from the kitchens. Draco grudgingly agreed; he was feeling bleak and could use some sweets to lift his mood.

As Potter led the way, Draco observed Potter’s gait. If Potter stood straight, he would be almost as tall as Draco. But now he walked with his shoulders hunched, as though the act of saving the wizarding world had also thrust its problems onto his teenage shoulders.

Draco wondered how much Potter knew about legends of the Greek Titans, of Atlas and the globe on his back. If Draco offered to tell the story, would Potter place his head on Draco’s lap and listen attentively, like Draco had done with his mother when he was a child?

In the kitchen, they sat together on a wooden bench, surrounded by treats and desserts. Potter talked openly and happily, as if enjoying Draco’s company. He remained this way — treating Draco in a friendly manner — until they reached Draco’s private dorm. He was the only Slytherin who had returned for Eighth Year so he had a room to himself.

“I had a great time, Malfoy.” Potter beamed. “I’ll see you around.”

Draco said nothing as he watched Potter walk away.

~~~

The following week, they met in the Healers’ waiting room again. Potter talked while Draco listened, basking in his attention and drinking in Potter’s bright green eyes and straight white teeth.

When Draco sat in front of Healer Park, he opened his mouth and, as though channelling Potter’s energy, shared his deepest regrets with a stranger with kind eyes.

~~~

The Healer had advised Draco to seek forgiveness.

Draco apologised to Potter at the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the school grounds while the cool breeze chilled him to the bones. Once the words were out, he couldn’t stop. His mind yanked at each of his mistakes, uprooting all his flaws from his first year, from the first time he spoke to Potter, from the moment he was born until he felt raw and sick.

He hadn’t noticed that while he spoke, Potter had gently guided him inside and sat them both on the steps. Potter was silent as tears streaked down Draco’s face.

When speech finally failed him, Draco wiped his face with a sleeve. Potter slid closer and engulfed Draco’s thin body in a hug.

Potter apologised for sixth year, for the scars on Draco’s chest, for failing to help when he could’ve.

Their first kiss, clumsy and laced with longing, tasted like rainwater.

~~~

Draco’s obsession with Potter was insatiable.

Potter was like an addictive potion. If you’d never had it, you could live and die happily, not knowing what you had missed. But once you get a taste, you’d want more and more and yet, it’d never be enough.

Draco couldn't count the number of times they dragged the other inside alcoves or empty classes for a snog. Potter’s lips were warm, delicious, sometimes even sweet. He kissed with a passion Draco envied, with his whole body leaning in and his hands all over Draco like a starving man.

Being the centre of Potter’s attention was like standing on the surface of the sun. Draco’s skin burned at every contact with Potter’s hard body, but with the heat came pleasure.

Draco was infatuated.

And maybe, just maybe, it was the same for Potter.

~~~

The first time Potter pulled off his Invisibility Cloak in front of Draco, the blond had yelped in surprise and accidentally banged his head against the headboard.

Potter climbed into Draco’s bed, clad in only a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “Are you afraid of people finding out about us?” he asked, his warm body pressed to Draco’s side.

Draco shrugged. His father was in Azkaban, his mother was sentenced to home arrest for 15 years, his family name tainted, his family fortune would deplete quickly if he didn’t take over the family business once he graduated.

Draco didn’t want to think about the outside world. It was too scary.

But having this with Potter wasn't any less terrifying. Nobody would be pleased to learn that The Saviour was sharing a bed with a Death Eater. Any animosity would certainly be directed at Draco. He was a criminal, after all.

Potter had nothing to lose, while Draco would lose everything.

Suddenly his vision blurred and he found himself looking through a layer of translucent fabric. Potter had spread the Invisibility Cloak over them.

“There.” Potter sounded smug. “No one can see us now.”

Draco’s body shuddered with laughter as Potter rolled on top of him. The cloak cascaded down Potter’s head and Draco’s fingers brushed its velvety texture while they kissed under its cover.

Was taking pleasure in The Chosen One’s embrace a crime?

~~~

“You shouldn't have saved me,” Draco murmured one night, mouth pressed against Potter’s jugular as they both lay breathless, sweaty and sated. “You should have left me in the fire.”

Potter’s arms tightened around Draco's bare body, pulling him until his long pink scars kissed Potter's brown skin.

“I left you once,” Potter whispered, lips brushing Draco’s temple. “Never again.”

~~~

“Do your friends know about us?” Draco asked when Potter took his hand on their way to the Healers’ office.

“Er, yes,” Potter admitted sheepishly. “I’m bad at keeping this a secret. Are you upset?”

Draco glanced at their clasped hands pensively. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure how I feel about this. About us.”

“Maybe we should talk with the Healers,” Potter suggested when they reached the waiting room still holding hands. “Get their advice.”

“You want to ask them for relationship advice?” Draco said incredulously.

“Why not?” Potter grinned. “Although, I should tell you before we go in…" He stepped closer, and Draco couldn’t avoid gazing into his emerald eyes. “I really like you, Draco. I think I’m in love with you.”

Rasps escaped Draco’s throat as he struggled to respond.

Potter didn’t wait for any reply. He just smiled and kissed Draco's knuckles before entering his Healer's office.

Draco stood frozen for a good five minutes before he finally went into the other office and took his usual seat on the sofa opposite Healer Park.

"How are you today, Draco?" the Healer asked gently.

"I think…" Draco closed his eyes, picturing Potter's joyful smiles and hearing his own heartbeats loud in his ears. "I think I'm in trouble."

Healer Park appeared concerned. "How so?"

Sighing, Draco leaned back. "I'm falling… for Harry Potter."

#gameofdrarry #exploding snap #isamijoo #drarry fic #draco x harry

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spencer-reid-in-a-pool · 3 years

Text

It Was You All Along (Part 6)

Author’s note: I want to thank @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods for helping me and listening to me ramble constantly about this series. I know I am probably annoying, but she inspired much of this fic just through our conversations and I am so thankful every day that I met her and that she is my friend. This chapter is Jaskier’s POV, so hopefully you will learn more about that night that (Y/N) eavesdropped! Enjoy~

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods @blackjay04 @mxsmwndr @bravelittlesunflower

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

If the gods could have blessed me with some other talent besides music, it should have been the ability to figure out where the hell I was in this forsaken forest. I wish I knew how to map out these routes in my head like Geralt seems to do, but I simply can’t. I guess you could say it was my own fault for running off after the attack, but I couldn’t risk getting punched again. Gods know that I am the one bringing in the most money, what with my music and all. Witchering be damned.

I mean, what can I say? I’m irresistible.

The trees in front of me seemed to stretch out infinitely, and I sighed as I came to a stop. I knew Geralt would be alright, of course. My thoughts were mainly focused on (Y/N) and where she might have ended up. I couldn’t help but think us getting separated was my fault. But I only did what I thought was right in the moment, and that was getting her as far away from the danger as possible.

She has been acting a bit strange lately, and that consumed my thoughts going forward. Was it... girl problems? Those happen monthly, right? Wait- what month is it?

A snapping sound drew me from my thoughts and brought me to another abrupt stop. It sounded far away, so I decided not being around to find out what made the noise was the best course of action.

It was starting to drop dark now, and I had found a fallen log to sit on and rest. It was so quiet. I hated the quiet. My thoughts and fears were always loudest then, so I decided to pull out my lute and strum mindlessly to bring about some comfort. Without meaning to, I started playing the song I was writing for (Y/N). It just kind of happened. I thought she was onto me and knew about the song when we arrived at that town the other day, but luckily she didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. If only she didn’t make me so nervous and loose-lipped, maybe she wouldn’t have even realized the song was new and unfinished.

My heart sped up the tiniest bit as I played, just like it always did when I thought about her. Which was quite often, to be honest. I simply couldn’t help it. She was my muse, even if she didn’t know.

Of course, thinking about her made me think about the other night in the tavern with the other woman. A stab of guilt made my chest hurt, and I cursed myself for that night. (Y/N) didn’t seem to be catching on to anything I was doing, so I had wanted so badly to be distracted. How stupid was I to let that woman be my distraction? Incredibly. And I would regret it for the rest of my days.

Obviously, thinking about that night and that woman made me think of the conversation Geralt and I had after. I remembered the whole thing, surprisingly, considering how drunk I was. I think- no, I know- the cause of me remembering was how much I was thinking about (Y/N) then. How badly I had wanted that woman to be her, in my arms and safe and loved.

I told Geralt everything. But I’m sure he already knew with his Witchery-ness...I swear he could read minds sometimes.

I went to the woman’s room- I don’t even know her name, now that I think about it. I don’t think I asked. It didn’t really matter, because it wasn’t (Y/N). Instantly, I had regretted my actions. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want this woman on me, touching me. So as soon as I had come back to reality, I pushed her off, probably a bit too hard, and winced as I realized how purple my neck would be soon.

Of course she was hurt, and I felt awful. But a second later, she smiled at me with what looked like understanding on her face.

“It’s that girl down there, isn’t it? You’re thinking about her.”

I didn’t answer her, and she took my silence as a yes. And that was that. I spent the rest of the night getting drunk to try and drown away this feeling I had. It didn’t work, of course. I suppose karma was being her usual bitchy self. Although, I knew in my heart that I deserved it.

As I strummed her song over and over, I replayed the conversation Geralt and I had that night in my head.

“You couldn’t have been any quieter when coming in?”

I pulled out a chair and sat in it heavily, the drink and regret weighing me down.

“Shut up, Geralt,” I groaned.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I was silent for a moment, and decided to just come out with it.

“You wouldn’t understand. I- I so desperately want (Y/N)...What do I do?”

If he expected something else from me, he made no mention of it. He simply stared at me with that same stupid expression he always had.

“You want advice? You need to grow a pair, Jaskier, and stop whining. Watching you be like this is incredibly exhausting.”

I sighed once more, like I had so many times previously tonight.

“That woman...seeing her was a bad idea. (Y/N) can’t know how I feel. At least, not yet. I don’t want her to know.”

He glanced at the wall for a split second, but I thought nothing of it. He was probably just tired of listening to me talk.

“You truly are an idiot. Both of you are.”

And without another word, he left for the washroom.

I played until it was pitch black outside, and even after for a little bit. I didn’t need light to see where the strings for her song were. I knew them by heart, even if it wasn’t quite finished yet. Only when my fingers started to ache did I stop, and I didn’t really want to. Playing her song made it feel as if she was right next to me.

I sighed and placed my lute down gently before laying myself down next to it. There probably wasn’t a really comfortable spot around here, so I balled up my doublet and used it as a makeshift pillow. Before long, I fell asleep and dreamed of (Y/N) all night, as I so often had since meeting her for the first time.

When I woke in the morning, it was just after dusk, and a bit cold out. I put my doublet back on quickly and grabbed my lute, ignoring the ache in my back and the growl coming from my stomach. There wasn’t really much else to do besides start walking and hope for the best.

Eventually, I made it to a small, run-down cottage near a stream. It was as good a place as any to rest and catch my breath. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but I knocked nonetheless. What can I say? I’m a gentleman.

No one answered, so I let myself in. But what I didn’t realize was that the door was on its last limb, so as soon as I opened it, it collapsed onto the floor, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt directly into my lungs.

“Melitele’s tits,” I croaked.

After I recovered from my little ordeal, I dug around the place to see what it had to offer. Was it too much to hope for food?

I came across a plant potted in the corner. Underneath the cobwebs and dust, it almost looked edible. Almost.

“Should I?” I thought out loud.

I stared at it for a good while, heavily considering eating it, before realizing it was probably not a good idea.

“I should not.”

Defeated, I sat down on one of the rickety chairs, thanking the gods that it didn’t fall out from underneath me. Maybe I’ll eat my own arm off. Wait, then I can’t play the lute anymore...

“Bollocks...”

I hadn’t realized that I had fallen asleep in the chair until I heard rustling and voices outside, which startled me awake. It looked to be later in the day, probably the afternoon. So I couldn’t really take off running- they would definitely see me.

The voices and footsteps got closer and closer. In a panic, I scanned the room looking for something- anything I could use to defend myself if need be. There really wasn’t much. The place has probably been ransacked more times than I can count.

Unfortunately, all I had was my lute. How horribly tragic.

I hunkered down in the corner farthest away from the door, and waited until they were right against the house before shouting, “I’ve got a very large- very hard sword! And I’m not afraid to use it. You had best leave- right now. Please.”

Idiot, why did you say please at the end? You sounded like an insufferable p-

“Jaskier!”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t my name. And it definitely wasn’t (Y/N) stepping over the fallen door.

Time felt frozen for a second. A bit annoying really, considering how all I wanted to do was run to her and hug her. But she made it to me first, and before she threw her arms around me, I looked at her like it was the first time.

She was disheveled of course. Scratches and bruises decorating her skin. A particularly large bruise was right in the middle of her forehead. Wonder what caused that monstrosity.

Twigs and leaves and grass were twisted into her messy hair, and for a split second all I could think about doing was getting it all out for her and washing her hair. She’d like that, I think.

Even in her condition, I had never seen such a beautiful woman. And I realized that even looking at another for the rest of my days would simply be a sin.

Her arms finally fell around my neck, bringing me closer to her and back to the present. I took a deep breath, telling myself that this was actually real. She was actually here and she was okay, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. I simply could not have her close enough to me.

I sighed her name, relaxing against her, and hoping against hope she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating right now.

Geralt stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. But there was a gleam in his eye.

“Shut up,” I mouthed silently to him, turning slightly with (Y/N) still in my arms as if I was hiding a sweet I refused to share.

He simply shook his head, and stepped back through the doorway from where they came.

Geralt and I sat around the fire now. (Y/N) was asleep a few feet away, curled up on a ratty old blanket laid out on the forest floor. I couldn’t help but watch her sleep. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. There wasn’t a single thing I would not do for her.

I had spent the better part of an hour picking out all the offensive bits of nature in her hair, and combed it out as best as I could.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling,” I had said to her after finishing with her hair, “But what in the gods’ holy names happened to your forehead?”

Her expression fell instantly, and she grumbled something under her breath. I leaned in closer to hear what she had said, ignoring the weird expression on Geralt’s face.

“I ran into a branch while I was escaping on Lily.”

If she hadn’t had such a pitiful look on her face, I would have lost my shit then and there, laughing until I felt sick. But I managed to stifle it, if only to laugh about it later.

“What a special girl you are,” I said instead.

She turned away from me for a moment before telling me to shut up.

Geralt’s words startled me from my recounting of the events in my head.

“If you don’t tell her, I will. You’re ridiculous.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and quickly turned away from (Y/N)’s sleeping form.

“I’ll tell her. Just...not yet. When the time is right. She deserves to know, even if she doesn’t feel the same.”

His only response was a sigh. Then he laid down on the other side of the fire, facing away from me.

That was fine. I’ll be up a while, and I preferred it that way right now. Perhaps I’ll finish her song...

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

Text

Strings Attached (m.c)

Pairing: Michael Clifford X Reader

Summary: It’s been four months since your break up with Michael, but you still have to give him one last birthday gift. ~ A small piece for @devilatmydoor and @blackbutterfliescal Michael’s birthday celebration ❤️🦋

Warnings: Soft Angst, language, overthinking, some bad grammar probably (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 1.9 k

Author’s note: Well hello there 👀 I have been struggling to find a promt for this Michael fic but I think I got it right this time ✌🏼 This is a genderless fic and I hope you can all enjoy it ✨ Reblogs, likes and comments/feedbacks are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear about you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🦋

My materialist and other Michael fics if you wanna be tag in future pieces please let me know!

Picture from Pinterest

You have to stop staring. It’s been half an hour already, probably even more. It’s almost pathetic, but you had to make a choice and it’s a matter of now or never. Though, you had to admit that the “never” option sounds really good at the moment.

You groan as you run your hand through your hair and turn around, away from the object that had you in this horrible dilema.

You have to give it to him, you have to. It’s his, after all. You bought it for him but how the hell could you know what would have happened just a few days later?

The fight started like any other, the usual ones you used to have whenever he came late from the studio or forgot an important date. Although this time you can’t really seem to remember the reason you both lit the match that ended up burning your little world. All you can remember is walking away and slamming the door on your way out. And just like that, it was over.

Almost three years of relationship thrown away by some harsh words and invalidated feelings. At least you could say it was mutual, you needed to get away and he didn’t stop you. Would you have stayed if he did? You knew the answer was yes.

The first few days after the break up were filled with angry emotions and bad coping mechanisms, yet once it all became real you realized the mistake that you both made. You were burned out, stressed and too tired and angry to have a normal conversation, and, suddenly without realizing, the spark became a fire and it was too late to salvage anything. The damage was done and you regret every single word as you saw the ashes fall once it was over.

You can’t deny the disappointment of him not calling, but, to be fair, you haven’t called either. You two can be very stubborn, you are alike that way. The thought of “maybe this was for the best” came as it went. How can this be for the best when you are still in love with him?

You miss him, with every beat of your heart you miss him and long for him and his touch. Not even when he went away for months on ends you missed him this much. Of course, whenever he had to leave you were reassured of his love for you. You were his and he was yours. No doubts, no walking away. And yet, you did.

The guilt of it all consumed you. And maybe, just maybe, this object could be the chance you needed to fix everything you once had.

“Oh, fuck it” You said in a sigh.

You grabbed the heavy object and walked up to your car, placing it carefully on the back seat, stopping only to take a look at yourself on the reflection of the window. You were set on what you were going to do, yet you still failed to hide the fear in your eyes.

What if he started over? What if you don’t have a place in his heart anymore? Maybe he doesn't even miss you as much as you do. Maybe he doesn’t miss you at all and you will just ruin everything for him today. Could he still love you still?

Shaking those thoughts away, you open the driver’s door and start your way towards the house you once (and still hope to) call home. There was no time to back up now. You had to do this, if not to fix it then to find some closure to all of this mess.

The music on the radio served as background noise to the thousand scenarios you created in your head, not all of them with a happy ending; but you still stayed hopeful, you had to be.

Your heart skipped a beat as you pulled on the too familiar driveway, the feeling of being so close and yet so far made your stomach rumble with anxiety. But you felt an odd sense of calm as you stepped out of your car, almost like coming back home after so long of being lost by your own mistakes and missteps.

You rehearsed the words you wanted to say to him in your head without realizing that your hand acted on its own and already knocked on the door, so once you saw him open the door and stand in front of you, you were a loss of words.

“Michael…” You breathed, the shock of seeing him became too much.

He was standing there, his hair was longer and a bit unkempt. His scruffy beard framed his face and made him look more mature, you always loved his beard and how it tickled every time he kissed your cheek. You almost smiled at that thought before you remember why you were there “Hi”

“Hi,” Michael said softly, almost like a whisper. The surprise was evident in his eyes as he looked you up and down. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you lowered your gaze and noticed that he was still wearing the hoodie you gifted him a few years back “Wh- what are you doing here?”

You winced at the sound of his voice, it did not sound like him at all. The Michael you knew was always loud when in public, his bubbly laugh filling any silence there was and, when in private, his voice would always be soft, loving and calming. That was the Michael you knew, not this timid and broken man that was standing in front of you.

“I-” You started, but soon had to clear your throat as your voice sounded as weak and scared as you felt “Happy Birthday, Mikey” You offered instead.

Michael’s green eyes soften at the words. He hasn’t heard from you in months, yet he somehow knew, hoped even, that you wouldn’t forget him today “Thank you” He murmured, gaze gracing the floor.

You wanted nothing more than to hug him and hold him tight, you had to physically fight every urge in you to do so.

“I have something for you” You said with a more uplifting tone, trying to comfort him this way.

“Babe-” He said before realizing “Sorry. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” You rushed before you dwell on the way he called you, feeling your heart grow with love “I mean, I already had it and I’m not really sure what to do with it since it’s yours and well, I can’t really use it and I really want you to have it so you-” You sighed. You were rambling and it didn’t make any sense right now “Just… It’s in the car. Michael, please?” You pleaded.

He sighed as he nodded his head. Seeing you has taken a toll on him since you were the last person he expected to see today, or ever if he was being honest. It gave him too many memories, too much hope.

Keeping his distance, he walked with you towards your car. He could tell you were nervous, he guessed it was because you didn’t want to be here in the first place but you wanted to get rid of whatever was in the backseat. One last piece of him for you to forget.

Funny how all those thoughts disappeared when you opened the door and his eyes fell into the object that was meant for him, making him almost forget to take a breath and keep breathing.

The guitar was perfect. That was all he could think off. The body seemed made out of marble, shining against the bridge and buttons that were colored silver and black. The strap was embroidered with his initials in a soft glittery grey, claiming itself as his. Yet none of that caught his attention like the stings and how 5 of them were clear, almost transparent as they clashed with the color of the neck, and perfectly in tune. But the sixth string that was placed in the middle of it all stood up with its ruby color, balancing everything just perfectly.

You watched expectantly as his eyes scanned the guitar up and down, wanting nothing more than to touch it but feeling reluctant to do it.

“I had it customized a few months ago… after we visited that shop you like?” You ventured, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence “I- I know it’s not that impressive given that you have thousands of other guitars and probably have one now that might be similar to this one. But you seemed to like one like this and-“

“It’s perfect” You heard him say. No shaking in his voice, no whispered tone or rushed words. Only sincerity and gratitude “It’s perfect, magnificent, even. I-I.. thank you”

When your eyes met his you could barely hold your emotions at bay. Oh, how you missed those green eyes. Especially now that they were looking at you with such gratitude and love that you almost forget you are not together anymore.

You cleared your throat, shaking the thoughts away “I’m glad you like it”

The two of you stayed silent for a moment, too much to say yet no words being exchanged between both of you. That’s until Michael noticed “The string… the middle one, why is it red?”

He knew you were a sucker for symbolisms; Easter eggs; hidden meanings; and surprises, this could not be a random thing.

“Remember when you went to Japan last year?” You asked, not daring to look at him just yet “You told me about that legend you heard about the red string of fate, that no matter how long or tangled it's become, the two people that are connected by it will find their way to each other. No matter time, place or circumstances, what’s meant to be it’s meant to be” You felt tears rolling down your face, but you couldn’t do anything to stop them as your eyes met his one more time “You’re my red string, Michael. Always has and always will be. And I’m such a fool for letting it tangled this much and letting you go”

Michael stared at you with glossy eyes, not wasting any other second without having you in his arms as he pulled you closer into a hug, wrapping his arms around you as you molded into him.

“These past few months without you have been turture” He said with his face hidden in your neck “I- I don’t know what went wrong but I was so afraid of fucking it up further that I just thought it was for the best. That you would be better off without me”

You chuckled through the tears “I was scared, too. I thought you were the one who would be better off without me and that you moved on” You held him tighter “I’m so sorry, Michael”

“I’m sorry, too, love. So fucking sorry”

“Can we please start over?”

Michael let go of you for just a moment before cupping your cheeks and crashing your lips into his in a slow, sweet, loving and awaited kiss “We were never over, love. I love you, now and forever. We are meant to be” He said as he placed his forehead on yours.

You smiled and brought him down to kiss him once again. “Meant to be” And you knew that from that moment on, everything would be alright.

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verai-marcel · 3 years

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Sharing is Caring (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Charles x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur have been a pair for a few months, and he's fully aware that he claimed you when you were still getting to know everyone in camp. When he notices you and Charles talking together amicably, he gets an idea and can't let it go. He only hopes that you would be willing to go along with it.

Author’s Notes: Been a while, huh? Just a random idea I had late one night, and it wouldn't leave my head. So in this fic, I’m thinking Arthur is incredibly proud of you, your beauty, your energy, your everything, and wants to show you off. He secretly gets off knowing that you chose to belong with him, and that he’s being such a great guy by letting you enjoy yourself with others. He could be a possessive and selfish man, but instead, being as giving as he is, gives to you what lesser men wouldn’t be able to handle: your freedom to indulge in some fantasies, and as a byproduct, some of his fantasies as well.

Tags: hotwifing, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, blow job, doggy style, paizuri, Charles x F!Reader, Arthur x F!Reader, unedited

AO3 Link is here, my friends.

Word Count: 3589

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Arthur took a short break after carrying around bales of hay for the horses to fondly watch his lady walk around camp, getting her own chores done. When she caught his eyes, she smiled brightly at him, just for him, and his heart leapt with joy. She had only been here a few months, but within the first week, he had made his move, uncharacteristically bold with the new gang member while she was still learning about everyone. Something about her made him nearly feral with desire.

Luckily, she had felt the same way about him.

Now he watched as she turned her glowing smile to Charles, and he saw him nod his head to her, a gentle smile on his face in response. He would have been just as good of a partner to her, Arthur thought. He would have treated her kindly, worshipped her body just as he did—

A mental image came unbidden of her lying on the edge of a soft bed, her legs spread wide open, and Charles standing at the foot of the bed, taking her with strong, steady thrusts. He quickly shook his head of the thought, but although he turned back to his work, the idea percolated in the back of his mind.

***

You had noticed Arthur acting a bit strangely these past couple of days. As you went about your daily routine, it seemed like he wanted to say something every time he managed to run into you, but he could only give you a simple touch on your arm and a shy smile before heading back to work. It was as if he was hiding something, and after being with him for the past few months, you had learned to read him a bit better, but you weren't even close to figuring out why he was being so dodgy lately.

You finally had enough and went to ask Charles.

"You notice something strange about Arthur lately?"

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow before he replied. "Does he keep looking like he wants to ask you something and then runs away?"

"Yes!" you answered, glad that someone else had noticed. "Is he hiding something from me? Should I be concerned?" The pitch of your voice rose with every word as worry creased your features.

"Don't worry wildflower," he said soothingly, "I'll talk to him."

You nodded, glad that Arthur had such a good friend. "Thank you."

He nodded and wandered away to look for Arthur, while you suddenly realized that he had called you by a pet name, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him.

***

It was towards the end of the day when you saw both Arthur and Charles coming up to you. Arthur looked a bit chagrined while Charles just walked beside him with a sympathetic glance every now and again. They both stopped in front of you, and Arthur took off his hat.

You were a bit wary because of the serious look on Arthur’s face.

"Darlin'," Arthur started, but quickly became silent, staring at the ground for a few seconds, then glancing up at the sky as if he was praying for strength.

"Yes, Arthur? You know I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say. You'll suffer no judgement from me."

He smiled at your reassurance. "Then, would you be willin' to, um, come to the hotel. With both of us?"

You can't say you were expecting that. Glancing over at Charles, you put two and two together. They must have talked about this before, and only now did Arthur have the courage to ask you such a thing. To be honest, before you had paired up with Arthur, you had imagined having a night with Charles, the mental images bringing heat to your cheeks. Even now, your eyes were drawn to those broad, muscular shoulders and those thick arms that could lift you with no problem.

"Sure," you finally answered, much to Arthur’s relief.

Charles looked satisfied and nudged Arthur with his elbow. "See? Nothing to worry about," he said before nodding towards you. "I'll see you both tonight."

He walked away to leave you and Arthur alone. You looked up at your lover, both excited and confused. He had never shown any interest in sharing you before; in fact, you hadn’t even thought of the idea yourself until they had brought it up. The question must have shown on your face, for Arthur stepped closer to you and took your hand. Looking around to make sure no one was around to notice, he took you further into the forest away from camp so he could talk without being interrupted.

"Ask your question, darlin'," he commanded gently.

"Were you waiting to share me? Or was this a sudden whim of yours?"

Arthur leaned back on his heels a bit, scratching his chin. After a few quiet moments of self-contemplation, he finally spoke, low and soft. "A bit of both. Saw how friendly you was with Charles, and I'd trust him to take good care of you."

He stepped closer to you and touched your hair gently. "I'd like to watch you take your pleasure from him."

A shiver of desire ran through you. Arthur's brilliant eyes stared at you with a lustful heat, and you could swear you could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest.

"He knows I'm sharin' you because I want to show off how beautiful you are, but only to the right people."

“People? Plural?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’ll decide together, but you get the ultimate say. I’d never make ya feel uncomfortable, darlin’.”

Nodding, you felt better about his emphasis on your choice. “Alright, I’ll… I’ll try this.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed your forehead, then pulled back to press his forehead against yours. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

***

Night fell and you were starting to feel anxious, but in a good way. You had been suppressing your carnal thoughts ever since you started being with Arthur, but some nights, when Arthur was out on a job, you’d curl up in his cot, tent flaps tied shut, and you’d shove your hand down your drawers and indulge in some of your more outlandish fantasies. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Arthur, far from it. It was just… while Arthur could make love so very well, you were a little more adventurous and wanted to experience all kinds of things.

You dreamed of being claimed by two or three men together, taking all of them deep inside of you while you came around their cocks. You even had a scandalous fantasy of John and Abigail taking you aside and using you as their personal toy. Your most outrageous idea had been born out of a stray thought, of being on your knees before Charles, John, Javier, and Arthur, all four of them stroking their long, thick shafts as they spent themselves on your face and breasts, their hands petting your hair and holding your hands as they moaned your name in ecstasy.

You shook your head. You hadn’t thought of that idea in a while. It was nearly enough to bring some wetness between your legs, and you took a deep breath to calm your heart. Charles was waiting at the hotel for the two of you, and as you joined Arthur at the horses, you smiled and waved to him, trying not to show your eagerness for tonight.

“Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out for you to mount his horse.

“Sure am,” you said easily as you mounted up. You felt Arthur settle in behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you started to head towards town.

***

“You let me know if you suddenly don’t feel like it no more,” he said gently as you got closer to the hotel.

You smiled. Arthur was so incredibly attentive and kind to you. But you wanted this. You definitely wanted this more than you were letting on. Leaning back against his strong, steady chest, you leaned over to kiss his stubbled chin.

“I’m still feeling it, Arthur.” You reached behind you and lightly ran your fingers along the curve of his bulge. “In fact, I’m very much looking forward to both of you,” you purred.

A low chuckled reverberated through you, and the arm around your waist tightened just enough to tell you he wanted you right this second, his hand gripping you possessively.

***

“I had a bath brought up here,” Charles said as he let the two of you into the room. “Figure our lady would like a nice, relaxing wash before we have some fun.”

You smiled at him; he was just as thoughtful as Arthur, so warm and gentle when he wanted to be. As you stepped towards the bath, the two men glanced at each other before coming towards you.

“Let us undress you, sweetheart,” Arthur said, taking position behind you.

You nodded and could only gasp as Charles came forward and kissed your cheek softly as his hands cupped your breasts.

“So beautiful,” Charles murmured before he began to unbutton your blouse slowly. The warmth of the fireplace licked at your revealed skin as he pulled the cloth from your shoulders, sliding down your arms to drop to the floor. At the same time, Arthur had his arms around your waist, undoing the buttons of your skirt, and as that fell, he was untying the ribbon of your drawers, letting them fall as well.

Charles took your hands and led you to step forward out of your pile of clothing. He looked you up and down, your chemise, your stockings, and your boots still on. To your surprise, Charles knelt before you and started to unlace your boots. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders for balance as he helped you remove them.

Arthur suddenly returned behind you, his warmth a welcome feeling to your back. He also knelt down and ran his hands down your legs as he removed your stockings one by one, tossing them aside.

Finally the only thing you had on was your chemise, and Charles turned you around to face Arthur.

“Look at him while I take this off,” Charles whispered in your ear.

You locked eyes with Arthur. He was looking at you with such a lustful curve to his lips, like you were the most gorgeous thing in the world. He was silent as Charles cupped your breasts again and squeezed you gently before moving his hands down to the hem of your chemise. You instinctively reached behind you and wrapped your arms around Charles’ neck, sticking out your chest slightly for Arthur to enjoy. You could see how his erection punched at his jeans, and he reached down to cup himself, almost as if he was willing himself to calm down so he could enjoy the whole show.

Charles slowly lifted up your chemise, giving Arthur a show of your body as he pulled it over your arms and head with your help. He flung it to ground and returned his hands to your body, caressing you up and down your curves.

“Let’s get you all clean, wildflower,” Charles said as he led you to the small barrel bathtub that had been brought into the room. Charles placed his hand into the steaming water to check the temperature.

“Perfect,” he said, and carefully let you step into the tub. You sighed happily as the hot water relaxed your body. You became more relaxed as Arthur and Charles took up positions beside you and cleaned your skin and rubbed your muscles until you were limp and pliant.

“I think she’s ready,” Arthur said, a gentle smile on his face. “Look at my girl, so relaxed.”

You looked at him and smiled back. As you were lifted out of the tub and dried off with a soft towel, you felt like a queen, being tended to with the utmost care. Then Charles carried you off to the bed and laid you down with your rear on the edge, your legs hanging off the side. Arthur sat next to you and caressed your hair.

“Now, I want you to look at me when I tell you, alright? Otherwise you can do whatever you want,” Arthur said.

“Yes sir,” you said automatically without thinking about why you said it.

Arthur let out a low moan. After a moment, he swallowed. “Didn’t know two simple words could get me so hard,” he said, chuckling softly. Resting himself on one arm, he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his aching manhood. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes on your nude body with unabashed hunger.

The sound of shuffling clothing brought your attention to Charles, and you caught your breath. He had divested himself of all of his clothes, his naked body completely revealed. He was so muscular, so well-built, and as your eyes locked onto the girthy shaft between his legs, you knew that he would make you sore the next day.

You couldn’t wait. You spread your legs almost immediately, beckoning him to come closer.

Stepping forward, he took his cock in his hands and rubbed the tip along your slit, spreading your slick around. He dipped in a little bit and then pulled out.

“You’re really tight, sweetness,” Charles said softly as he pressed a finger against your clit and began to stroke you. As you gasped and squirmed, he used his other hand and pressed two fingers inside of you, stretching you out as he continued to play with your clit.

Your hips lifted up towards his touch. “Just fuck me,” you said, panting as you were already reaching the edge.

Both Charles and Arthur laughed.

“Such a vulgar lady,” Arthur teased. “Guess we forgot to wash that dirty mouth.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but then you gasped as you felt Charles press his cock inside of you. Inch by inch, he slowly pushed forward, and you writhed with pain-laced ecstasy, the burning stretch tempered by his steady strokes on your center that kept you from pulling away.

When he finally bottomed out after what seemed like forever, you felt incredibly full, as if his cock had completely taken over inside of you. You looked down to see where you were joined, and your eyes traveled up Charles’ abs, his chest, then to his face, where he was looking at you with a smug and sexy smirk.

“Look at me,” Arthur commanded suddenly.

You turned to him and saw his devious grin.

“Fuck her,” he said to Charles without looking at him. Arthur’s attention was only on you.

All your heard was an affirmative grunt before you were suddenly being claimed by a very large, very thick cock. You could feel Charles’ hands on your thighs as he gripped you, keeping your legs spread out so he could see himself moving in and out of your wet heat. You could feel the bed shake with every powerful thrust. You could feel your throat growing hoarse with every loud cry you made.

But all you saw were Arthur’s eyes, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you get fucked so hard that you were breathless.

“Like getting fucked hard, princess?” he growled.

“Yes!” you screamed as Charles gripped your hips, angled himself a little differently and was thrusting into you again, hitting a sweet spot inside of you that made you grab the bedsheets and claw into the mattress.

“Say it.”

“I like getting fucked hard!”

“What a naughty lady,” Charles grunted. “Maybe you should do something about that mouth of hers.”

Arthur grinned and took off his boots before climbing onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard. As Charles pulled out of you, you had two seconds of reprieve before he flipped you over onto your hands and knees and slapped your ass.

“Go to him,” Charles ordered.

Crawling between Arthur’s legs, you let him lovingly grab a fistful of your hair and guide your lips to his cock. You licked it once, twice, before he growled menacingly.

You loved teasing him like this; that growl of his just did things to you that instantly made you even more wet. Taking the tip of him into your mouth, you started to suck on him casually, occasionally stopping to lick the entire length of cock, up and down, before taking him into your mouth again.

You saw Arthur nodding at Charles as he pulled you away from his wonderful cock. That was the only warning you got before Charles slammed into you from behind. You surged forward and let out a strangled cry of pleasure. Charles then grabbed your arms and pulled you towards him, arching your back as he fucked you in earnest, letting your ass bounce off of his hips, his pace increasing as he let your arms go, putting one thick arm around your chest so he could grab one of your breasts, while his other hand reached for your core and stroked you.

“Look at him,” he whispered into your ear.

You locked eyes with Arthur and your heart nearly stopped. He was so blissed out, watching you with so much heat in his eyes that you swear you could catch fire. He was furiously stroking himself, his breaths coming out in labored puffs.

“Make’er come,” he rasped. “I want to see her fall apart.”

Charles stroked you harder, faster, and his thrusts somehow felt deeper as he drove you over the edge. You screamed wordlessly to the heavens, your body going stiff for a blissful few seconds before spasming as the climax worked its way through you. Flying and falling, flying and falling, you felt like Charles’ fingers on your core would never let you go, and every time you thought he was done, he would drive into you again and draw out another shaky spasm from you until you went limp, collapsing in his arms.

He gently lay you down next to Arthur and straddled your body. He took your hand and wrapped it around his cock, then wrapped his big hand around yours. Together you stroked him until he let out a long, lustful moan as he spent himself onto your breasts. He had plenty of spend to coat your skin, and when he was done, he gingerly lifted himself off of you and collapsed at the foot of the bed, completely satisfied.

You were still catching your breath when Arthur sat up, got onto his knees, and grabbed at your hips to angle you towards him. Spreading your legs, he thrust into you smoothly; you were so wet and easy to enter.

“So damn gorgeous,” Arthur grunted as he fucked you. “So dirty with all that spend on ya. But yer my naughty lady, ain’t’cha?”

“Yes, yes Arthur!” you cried out as he pounded into you, his pace increasing with each of your cries of his name.

“You want my spend too, darlin’?”

“Yes, please, please Arthur, spend on me, make me your dirty girl, please!” you begged, no longer caring about how incredibly wanton you sounded.

Arthur moaned at your words, barely pulling out in time before he came, thick ropes spilling from his as he left his mark all over your belly and thighs.

“You a happy lady now?” he asked after the two of you had caught your breaths, still staring at each other in awe.

“Yes, very much so,” you replied. You slowly sat up and looked over at Charles, who was comfortably lying on his side on one elbow, watching the two of you with a happy smile. “Did you have fun too?”

Charles nodded. “I did.” He looked at Arthur. “Thank you. Both of you. I really enjoyed this.”

He stood and started to get his clothes. You glanced at Arthur, but he only shrugged. “I told him he could sleep here tonight, but he said he’d rather let us have some time together.”

You turned back to Charles. “Thank you,” you said, suddenly shy despite all the things the three of you had just done.

He smiled as he pulled up his pants. Walking back towards you, he took your hand and kissed the top of it. “Anytime sweetness, as long as you two will have me.”

***

Once Charles had left, the two of you cleaned up with the now tepid water and cuddled together in the hotel room, sated and happy. As the two of you began to fall asleep, you suddenly needed to know something.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“You ever think about sharing me with anyone else?”

“...”

At his silence, you sat up to look at him in the moonlight. His eyes were closed, but his brows were furrowed, as if he were still thinking.

“Arthur…”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, I do!”

He let out a sigh. “I realized I’m alright with whoever you want, as long as I get to claim you in the end and you say my name when you let go.”

“Why the sigh?”

“I thought… I thought I could only be comfortable with Charles, since I trust him.” He turned towards you. “But really… I just want you to be happy. So whoever you want, I’ll accept.”

Your heart swelled and you reached out to hug him tight. “I love you, Arthur.”

“I love you too, darlin’.” He held you close. “I’ll always treat you right.”

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End Notes: Oh lord, I accidentally spawned a few other ideas in my head after writing this. We’ll see, maybe we’ll have some short smut ficlets if I feel like it!

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur x fem!reader #charles x fem!reader #arthur morgan #charles smith #rdr2 #writing #fanfic #nsft #lemon fanfic

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vasoula · 4 years

Text

The Peepshow (chapter two)

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

Chapter one here, ffnet, Ao3.

Next chapter

Author's notes: An alternate title to this chapter could be "take a drink everytime sasuke activates his sharingan because of sakura" ;) I tried to keep my boy as much as in character as possible! My girl Saku is easier to approach thought wise. This the point of the three chaptered fic that things really take off :P Man, writing pole dancing is HARD ;) Enjoy some slowburn denial seduction sasusaku with a dose of humor, my loves! Also, big thank to everyone who read this, especially to those who left lovely comments! Thank you so much for your support! :D See ya next week! Just in case, english is not my first language and this chapter is only edited by me :D

“Act two: Seducing one jealous Uchiha”

Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.

He feels his eye power activate before he can control it as his chakra flares at the images flashing before him.

Sakura, his lovely Sakura, up the stage right in front the pole, looking straight at him in the most alluring way possible. Her body on full display and her face looking so different from her usual choice of make up he almost would tell you this is not her. But, those unmistakably beautiful eyes belong only to one person.

The glass of whiskey in his hand is close to breaking when Kakashi's voice cuts through his rage filled haze.

"Sasuke, stop." His mentor warns in a serious voice, just in time before they are detected by other people. It has the desired effect because Sasuke deactivates his sharingan instantly.

Naruto places his arm on his friend's stump, feeling the chakra pulsating there. The blond man says nothing although a crease in his brow has formed. He looks at Sasuke worriedly awaiting his reaction, averting his eyes from the stage where Sakura is dancing as if she does not have a care in the world.

Sasuke is clenching his jaw so hard, his teeth are aching from the pressure he is putting them on. He cannot believe what his eyes are seeing right now. Sakura who is supposed to be back in Konoha is up there on stage dancing for a target she is supposed to seduce and she has not told him a single fucking thing about this.

In fact, no, she lied to him and told him she would be staying at Tsunade for some medical bullshit she supposedly had to do with her mentor. He remembers the fifth Hokage calling him an arrogant brat for disliking this kind of mission.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his nerves, before he does something risky.

He feels his heart beating ridiculously fast in his chest for some reason as he looks up at the stage. Trying to see her face, he wants her to look him in the eye and tell him how does she feel now that she is making him hurt.

Does she not trust him enough with this information that she knew could potentially affect what they have? Why did she have to lie about it? Sasuke knows that there is some shinobi mission confidentiality, but they both know between them the barrier is drawn and she could tell him anything. Especially something that could potentially strain their feelings. Maybe knowing his nature she knew he would not like what she would have to do, but the outcome is the same anyways. Is he supposed to feel like this? What is the word again? Jealous, he thought.

Sasuke clicks his tongue and ticks his head to the right side. "I see," he says in venomous voice, uncharacteristic of him nowadays.

Acting unbothered, his eyes stay focused on the stage where the most important woman in his life is dressed in a skimpy lingerie trying to bait the target with her high class skills.

Naruto shakes his head knowingly and rests his forehead on his open palm, leaning on the armchair he is sitting on. "Man, this is bad," he says mournfully.

Kakashi finally breaks the ice by speaking again, trying to mend things in the worst way possible, "Damn didn't know she had it in her."

The gray haired man feels the Uchiha's rage before the sizzling stare reaches him.

"Shut it," Sasuke mutters angrily.

All their heads turn instantly when they hear a man shout in excitement exclaiming how hot Sakura is by throwing a bunch of money her way.

Sasuke feels the beginnings of a headache starting to form.

The heavy beat of the song is pounding strongly in his ears and he cannot help it when his eyes focus on Sakura once again. If he is being completely honest with himself, he did not know she had it in her either.

If you had told Sakura Haruno in the past that she would be pole dancing in front of Sasuke Uchiha, she would laughed straight at your face and call you an idiot.

But now, as she grinds her hips on the pole, she feels like she is the idiot. And the butt of her own jokes apparently.

She is really feeling herself actually. The lingerie she is wearing is top notch and it fits her body perfectly like it was made for her. It is dark red in color with stripes both on her chest and belly creating Xs. Her heels are not killing her like she imagined they would and she really likes the sparkle in them. And even though she is starting to sweat, she knows her make up will stay in place because she put all her time and effort on it to make it look bomb. It does look amazing on her as it accentuates her eyes in the best way possible. A red lip and black smokey look will do that to your face. Sakura also thinks her long curly hair really added a whole new vibe to her look.

Sakura grabs the steel in front of her and arches back. She rolls her head, moving her body and spinning around the pole. Her chest glistens teasingly thanks to the light and she pushes her hips forward to gain some momentum. She abandons the pole for now and dances a little around the stage to gain the attention of the crowd.

Stepping left and right, Sakura juts her pelvic side to side to create some form of belly dancing while her hands feel her body sensually, at last leading them to course through hair in an attempt to look sexier.

With all that effort she really feels like she is actually Misty Jade, the persona she is supposed to be impersonating. The pink haired ninja puts her hands on her hips and poses seductively. She looks around and spots her target right away.

Time to put on a show, she thinks bitterly and lifts her hands in air to grab the pole behind her. She pushes her butt against the pole and leans back in an effort to look like she is trapped and the pole is like a man who is holding her captive in a stimulating pose.

A happy yell confirms her move had the desired effect both on the crowd and the target as well.

But as she feels that familiar hot stare on her, she also knows how she fucked up big time. It seems her move had another effect as well. The making Uchiha very angry, hot, and bothered effect.

When she looks in his direction, Sakura regrets it immediately. Even though he is at the back of the club, she would recognize him right away no matter how far he is or what clothes he wears. She does not like the expression on his face one bit.

The moment she had turned around after being introduced she had felt his chakra spike up. It intrigued her how she had that effect on him when she knows for a fact the man is super calm and collected. Sakura will not lie to herself and pretend like she did not take great enjoyment from the fact that he reacted like that to her.

But, but, but.

He is very angry with her right now and it is apparent.

Sakura closes her eyes and pretends everything is fine. She knows the other members of Team 7, who look a lot more at peace than he is, will handle him if he gets too upset.

She decides it is time for some impressive tricks that will need her to use some core strength. She makes a quick spin with her hips sticking out and she starts to circle the pole and like it is a prey and she is ready to pounce. Her left hand reaches up and grabs the top of the metallic bar while she puts all her strength in her right hand which grabs the lower part near the base. Then, her left leg comes forward and almost warps around the pole.

Sakura closes her eyes as her right leg pushes her forward and the rest of her body gets send upwards. The beautiful woman feels her hair falling down to her face obscuring it from view for a few agonizing seconds as she stays upside down. With both legs secured on the poll she begins her ascend upwards trying to match her movements with the beat of the song to gain some momentum.

After climbing on top of the pole, Sakura starts spinning around using her hands as leverage. Putting her body in a fetal position, she locks her thighs together and descends towards the ground with her hands upwards pretending like she is falling down from the pole.

In flash, she squeezes her thighs together in an attempt to stop her body from falling down. Right before she reaches the base of the stage, her impeding fall halts.

With her body now close to the ground, she loosens and throws herself in compromising position on the floor. Her palms are flat on the stage, her chest squished together between concrete and her body. Her ass is high up in the air and she slowly goes forward like she is cat crawling her way towards the front row.

In the meantime the crowd has completely lost it. It takes athletic skills to do that and everyone is impressed.

Halfway through the song now with the performance reaching its peak, Sakura decides to pull out the big guns. In order to gain the attention of the target specifically, she will need to find a way to get him to focus on her. Even though he found her skills highly admirable, to him, she was just another girl pole dancing. That is why she has to act interested in him first.

Right now, Misao Takashi is smoking a cigarette like there is no care in the world and he is looking down at some papers.

Way to be inconspicuous, Sakura thought, dropping into a split right at the edge of the stage.

On the other side of the club, right at the back, Naruto is about to cry. He is so confused at the moment, it is not even funny. On one hand, he is really shocked by Sakura and the unknown skills she is displaying, however, he finds himself inwardly cringing because while she is very good at it, he sees her as a very dear friend to him. While he wants to hype her up because she is very impressive, he also wants to go up there and drag her far away from the leeching crowd and hide her from the world with a really big blanket.

On the other hand, he is very scared, because Sasuke Uchiha is about to have the biggest bitch fit of the year right next to him.

The blond man looks at his teacher for comfort only to find him staring him back with a desperate expression on his face which means he is also having a similar thought process. This leads to them having a battle of wills, holding intense eye contact, until one of them crumbles and has to be the one to take care of the green eyed monster that is Sasuke Uchiha.

"Both." Naruto silently mouths, pleading, not wanting to deal with this alone.

Kakashi clears his throat, taking the first step.

"Well, Sasuke, it looks like we won't be needed here," He says in a casual tone, although his voice cracks during the dialogue due to the fact the situation is awkward.

He feels uncomfortable, but he continues on speaking, "The Anbu specialist," he raises his tone slightly at this as if to reprimand him, "is doing a pretty good job on her own."

He folds his hands on top of his crossed knees after finishing his statement.

"I said help, not kill us," Naruto sweat drops and half whispers more to himself than anybody else.

They both hear Sasuke silently growl at this.

Naruto gulps down his saliva loudly and begins, "Look Sasuke, I know this looks bad," he pauses checking for a reaction. Seeing his friend only slightly pissed, he continues, "But, you have to look at the positive side!"

The black haired man looks at his best friend for a split second, his eyes glinting in the dark and says, "And that is?", he questions angrily.

"It is th-the fact that Sakura-chan is strong and she can handle herself!", he tries to explain lamely, "right Kakashi-sensei?"

"Of course, yes." Kakashi agrees quickly.

Sasuke sticks his tongue inside his cheek, pushing it outwards, trying to remain calm.

He wants to curse them, throw water at them or maybe punch them both in the throat, but he will not do it because Sakura would not want that.

His attention diverts back to her dancing on the stage.

"Tsk," he lets out a familiar annoyed sound.

Right at that moment, she decides it is the perfect time to do a split on the floor.

Sasuke feels a vein popping on his forehead while the other two screech like school girls next to him.

He watches as Sakura takes another route to her seduction game and she starts to rely on more sexual tactics. The last Uchiha observes as she starts to sensually rub her back against the pole, her knees slightly bend forward, in an almost squat.

Her right hand goes to her mouth, and she darts her tongue out as if to lick her long manicured fingers while she stares hotly at her target with hooded eyes. In the meantime, her free hand dangles teasingly in front of her torso and begins its descend down towards her pelvic area. Her green nails a stark contrast to her daring burgundy lingerie.

Sasuke almost wants to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory forever. He has never felt more jealous and needy than in that moment.

Despite all this unfolding before his eyes, he know this is just a mission, but he cannot help the emotions he is feeling.

The song is about to end, but he knows the torture will not end here. It will continue when she shows up again to lure her target away.

He cannot help but stare as she strikes a pose around the pole; her legs crossed around it and her body circled around the rod like snake hanging from a tree. Her arms are stretched out evenly and her voluminous hair hangs from one side.

Sakura looks amazing, her abs straining against her skin and her muscles showing in all the right places. His imagination of her naked body did not do the real thing justice; so much beauty on that tiny body of hers.

Sasuke heaves a sigh of relief just as the songs ends and the crowd cheers like never before.

"Finally," Kakashi whispers, coursing his hand through his hair.

Naruto plops down on the armchair loudly after hanging on the edge of it for so long.

It feels like a relief for all of them, but they know it is far from over. The lights of the stage close and Sakura disappears in the darkness. Their trained ears hear her heels clanking away despite the buzz she left behind. Everyone is complimenting her and the target looks very interested in her, as his eyes keep searching for her ever since the lights have opened again.

"Op, there it is, it worked, he is into her," Kakashi comments. The red haired male just signaled at a bartender - possibly asking for her company.

"Of course he liked her," Naruto shouts and stretches his hands out in exasperation, "oh my god she looked amazing, I can't believe I just witnessed that," the blond continues to mumble incoherently about their female teammate.

"Did you see that?", The tailed beast owner exclaims loudly, hands coming at top of his head in silent plea for salvation. From the corner of his blue eye, he anticipates his friend's reaction.

"I did," Sasuke responds, "fuck, I know, I did, okay," he says, his voice raising an octave.

He knows the other did it on purpose to gauge a reaction out of him, but he cannot keep hiding from them anymore. It is obvious they both know how he feels about her; except for Sakura of course.

"Op, there it is again," Kakashi jokes this time, his mask hiding his grin. He takes great pleasure in watching his greatest student fall apart in front of him.

"You are both enjoying this, aren't you?", Sasuke asks a question he knows the answer to. He is grimacing, trying to wallow in self pity alone.

"Of course we are," Naruto answers proudly,"have you seen your face?", he wriggles his eyebrows and points an accusing finger at Sasuke's face.

"I hate you both," He says detestably, "Leave me alone."

Before any more banter could continue however, they notice Sakura walking out of the changing rooms in a nice long dress with a slit on the side. It is light pink in color, almost transparent, and it has fuchsia fur on its collar. She is strutting towards the red haired man in very determined steps, getting his attention right away. The pink haired girl sits next to the target and strikes conversation. They watch the scene play out like movie, their eyes and ears alert and attune to everything those two do. Whenever he or she moves, their attention is solely on them - like a hawk which is watching its prey.

Sasuke focuses on Sakura, his eyes calculating every move she makes. He watches as the civilian says something probably funny to her and she laughs heartily, one hand covering her mouth. The woman cocks her head to her right cutely and she blinks her pretty eyes at him while her other hand which is not covering her mouth works in other dirtier ways.

Touch is very important in order to seduce any man. She pats his knee in an attempt to hold her laughter in. To any other person it looks like she is enjoying his company and she is comfortable with him.

But, Sasuke knows, this is her way of making him fall right into her beautifully crafted trap. Her subtle flirting looks like it is working because they both decide to get up at that moment. He does not have a clue what she could have possibly said to him, but the foolish guy grabs her extended hand and follows her to the back rooms.

"She is going in for the kill," Kakashi speaks suddenly, "we better stay alert now in case something bad happens."

It seems he is not the only one interested in how things play out.

The black haired man feels the temperature of the room skyrocket to new heights and he decides it is high time he took off his jacket. In one swift movement the annoying garment is off him and he undoes one more button of his blouse which is straining against his chest.

"Ugh I don't like this at all," Naruto whines and chooses to look anywhere else to divert his attention from Sakura.

Sasuke sits up straighter on his chair, finishes his drink in one shot and puts the empty glass on the nearby table. He feels his throat burning from the sudden consumption of the strong alcoholic beverage. The Uchiha welcomes the pain and cracks his neck to the side.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow at this and he inches his body closer to the outer part of his armchair as if he is ready to get up at any given moment. Naruto quickly catches on and puts his hand on top of Sasuke's bicep.

He grabs the flimsy material of his white shirt, but rearranges his hand in flash in order to grip Sasuke better.

"No," Naruto warns.

The blond's palm discreetly emits some chakra, trying to cool down the raging Uchiha.

Sasuke turns to look at them, his mismatched eyes cold and detached. They see his rinnegan flash in the dark despite being hidden by his fringe.

The brooding male shakes his head slightly and looks down. "I am only going to make things faster," he tries to reason with them.

"Sasuke, no," Kakashi tries to explain calmly. They must not alert anyone in here with their status or their cover will be blown. "We are the back-up, remember?"

"My abilities are more useful than Sakura's right now." Sasuke continues as if he did not hear them, "One look from me and it's over. Tsunade should have thought this through better."

"Sakura-chan can do this, bastard," Naruto speaks in a serious tone and continues, "Don't ruin this for her."

Sasuke stays still for a few seconds, his immobile form having both men on edge.

Before any of them could react fast enough though, they feel Sasuke's chakra flare and they see him disappear in a flash right in front of their eyes. In his place there is a broken bottle of vodka on the armchair.

"Fuck," Naruto curses and Kakashi lets out an indignant sound.

They avert their eyes from the bottle and look towards the changing rooms near the bar. Sasuke smirks, the purple stardust of his eye power blending in with the lights. He bends his head down and steps inside the dark entrance into the hallway behind him.

From their periphery they have no idea what it is going on in there anymore.

Naruto lifts his hands up in the air and says, "I give up."

"I have to admit these events unfolding before me have a more interesting plot than the Icha-Icha Paradise books," Kakashi shrugs his shoulders.

Both of them let out long sighs and fall back into their armchairs.

Meanwhile inside the changing rooms, Sakura has led her target in the quiet corner of her room. She has him pinned against the wall, kunai against his throat, her chakra infused fist holding him captive by his shirt.

"Tell me everything I need to know if you want to live to see another day," she spits out, her glare a complete one eighty compared to the sweet eyes she was batting at him earlier.

"I-I- Who are you lady?" The man trembles in her grip, her threat working.

Sakura pushes him harder against the wall to make him hurt.

"Quit stalling," She keeps the kunai on his throat as her other hand searches his pockets for the key and the papers. "What information do have?" The kunoichi in disguise asks and feels the cold metal of the keys at the tips of her fingers.

Just when she was about to get the juicy info out of him, Sakura feels Sasuke's strong chakra presence behind her.

"You heard her," his velvety baritone voice comes through as he flash steps behind them, both of his eye prowess glinting dangerously in the dark.

The man in question is sweating profusely now as he is faced with two scary looking ninja who look to be very powerful. He knows if he spills out the information the feud lords will come for his ass, but right now as he feels the tip of the kunai on his throat and looks at the threatening eyes of the man next to his beholder, he knows he is dead either way.

"I will tell you everything," He pleads, "don't kill me!"

The red haired man's knees buckle beneath him and he falls down to the ground with a thud. Sakura lets him fall, huffs and stands back.

As she crosses her arms in front of her chest, Sasuke bends down to be at eye level with the target and activates his sharingan, tomoes spinning lazily.

"I could do this on my own, you know," Sakura says annoyed. She is pursing her lips, her eyes going to slits.

"I know," Sasuke admits and stands up. The man on the floor is under a genjutsu, spilling all the information they need.

Sasuke's sharingan still activated records everything the man says that is useful to them. Sakura dangles the keys and puts them inside her pouch. With the man passed out on the floor, Sasuke and Sakura hold eye contact for a few minutes, both silent.

"How did you get in here without me noticing?" She breaks the silence first, taking a few steps closer to the black haired shinobi.

"I concealed my chakra well," Sasuke says laconically, glad for his nimble fingers because he locked the door silently as well.

Sakura hates the way he is so aloof about this as if he did not interrupt her own mission. She is so pissed off right now, the woman can barely hold her wits together. The kunoichi feels herself popping off the moment Sasuke decides to turn his back on her.

"I am not a weak little girl anymore," She spits out fiercely, trying to keep her tone down, "I don't need you going all macho on me!"

Her dress flutters around when she moves suddenly and starts pacing around the room. Sasuke looks at her from the corner of his eye, his visual power no longer activated.

He pretends to ignore her anger and stays mute instead. Unfortunately for her, Sasuke could not help himself and stay put. His jealousy pushed him to go in here with her because the thought of another man even possibly touching her sent him reeling.

Sasuke is glad nothing more had to happen, but god, he is such a coward still and he will not admit to her right now why he did it. He knows she is strong, but her being alone with somebody else, anybody else who is not him...It is eating him away from the inside.

Sakura is furious right now, but she also knows she cannot make a scene in here because someone could come in without warning and start asking questions. They have a man passed out on the floor who is going to arise some suspicions.

Analyzing the situation, she needs to think fast and act later.

Putting her hands on her hips and giving him the angriest bitch face she could master, Sakura barks out her order.

"Go inform the guys the mission is accomplished and we leave tomorrow at dawn," she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to try and defy her.

When she gets nothing but silence in response, she continues.

"Meet me outside across the street in twenty minutes," Sakura finishes her statement with a dismissive tone.

The pink haired medic raises her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to react.

Sasuke makes his usual humming noise in agreement, his lips slightly pursed. With a curt nod he leaves the room quickly, not once looking behind.

With the door now closed, Sakura lets out a silent growl. In her frustration she takes off one of her high heels and throws it across the room, her target where Sasuke was standing a few seconds ago. Disappointed that she did not hit his imaginary head, she tosses the other one too for a good measure.

Feeling accomplished, she gathers her stuff including the important papers and the keys and she changes to the civilian clothes she had brought with her. Seeing Misao Takashi slightly stirring, she takes that as her cue to leave. With one last look at him, confident that he will not have the guts to speak to anyone about this, she exits the room.

When the red haired male wakes up a few minutes later, he stands up groggily and looks around the room only to find it empty. Checking his pockets and realizing everything is missing, he recalls the events from before. That is when he takes a look at the mirror across him and he notices the gorgeous girl from before has left him a message.

A smiley face drawn with red lipstick is staring back at him.

He snorts and lets out a sad smile.

Twenty minutes later as promised everybody is out of the club with only Sakura still missing. Ever since Sasuke came back with the news no one has exchanged words besides Kakashi and Naruto who keep talking to each other.

The last Uchiha has been oddly quiet even for his standards. He keeps his face mostly hidden in the shadows of the night, his back against a nearby wall. Kakashi and Naruto are a few meters next to him throwing worried glances at him, fearing one word from them would set him off the wrong way.

The moment Sakura appears, it seems the gears in Sasuke's head have finished turning and he stands up straight ready to take off. The awkwardness in Team seven is palpable.

No one dares to look their female teammate in the eye, even Kakashi who is older than them. They do not speak to each other either. Instead, the male members of the group start following Sakura who is probably leading them to the hotel she has been staying. Sakura looks calm, but everybody seems to know that they should not try to cross her or strike a conversation with her.

Naruto who is usually lively and talkative feels like he is living his worst nightmare. He exchanges a few glances with Kakashi who keeps putting his finger in his mouth as if to signal the blond to keep quiet. Things are so awkward between the medic and the sharingan user that Naruto feels like a literal child confined between his two stubborn and angry grown up parents. Fuck being a third wheel to a conceited flirting Uchiha and a shy Haruno, this is so much worse.

Only when they finally reach the hotel and they forced to say their good nights, the Team manages to acknowledge and speak to each other. Of course it is typical conversation before you go to bed, so nothing weird here. Albeit, it was so disturbing to see Sakura faking a smile nowadays that Naruto wanted to bash Sasuke's head to the nearest wall for making this mission more awkward than it had to be. Thinking better than to try and talk to Sasuke about the situation right now, Naruto heads solemnly to his room.

Kakashi on other hand feels like those two are grown up adults and he should not have to interfere with their feelings. They have to work on their miscommunications on their own, especially Sasuke and his incapability to express his feelings.

With each person having their own thoughts in their heads, the members of Team 7 all go into their rooms respectively.

The moment Sakura steps inside the room, she starts to feel her tear ducts watering. Taking a deep breath in order to calm down, she starts pacing around the room while fanning her eyes.

In these kind of situations it always helps to think of something else to prevent her from crying, so she thinks about Ino and her holy grail set of girl rules.

"Never cry when you have expensive make up on," Sakura tries to pep talk herself.

Although she knows she will have to take it off eventually, she tries to hang on the smallest reason to stop herself from tearing up. If she slips up and allows herself to get sad, the woman knows it will be impossible to stop.

Sakura does have a tendency to get emotional despite being strong. Being apathetic is not one of her strongest assets, regrettably. In comparison to the man she is in love with, the pink haired beauty is quite the opposite of him when it comes to matters like these.

Thinking a good bath will clean her head (and her body), she steps inside the bathroom. Half an hour later, she comes out of it clean and fresh wearing her skimpy black pajama shorts and a white t-shirt. Knowing no one will come and bother her anymore tonight she skips putting on her bra.

Feeling rejuvenated and ready to go to sleep, Sakura starts making a beeline for her bed. She will figure out tomorrow what to do about her strained relationship with Sasuke.

Right just about that thought crossed her mind, she hears knocking on her door.

"No," the woman whispers, her eyes widening in horror.

There is no way Sasuke is behind that door, knocking it and expecting her to open up.

With two powerful stomps and a determined expression on her face, Sakura reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

#sasusaku #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #sasusaku fanfiction #ssfic #ssfanfic #ssfanfiction #vasoula writes #sasusaku fanfic #please enjoy everybodyyy #things get sexaaay

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giurochedadomani · 3 years

Text

Fic-in-progress type of update that has gotten a tiny, little bit out of hand but I regret nothing and I really want to share it

I’m doing the third and final part of this.

When I do get to finish this I feel like it’ll work just fine as a one shot, but. Just to give you some context: this scene of the story takes place after a botched plan ends up with the son of a rival capo dead at the hands of? Leonardo? I never bothered to write out what exactly happened on That Fateful Night and now I’m taking 100% advantage of that.

The thing is, the other mafioso certainly blames him. When Primo manages to keep Leo out of jail by putting the blame of the murder on the son of the town’s mayor, their rival decides to take justice into his own hands, failing to consider how little Primo is likely to stop until he owns the city and ends with every kind of threat vaguely pointed in his direction, Leo’s or this family he has adopted himself into. Enter:

[Gioia Tauro, Saturday night]

Uhhhhh there are things I can tag for: mentions of abuse re: Primo’s childhood, discussions of murder and other Mob related stuff, but there are other things that I can’t really tag without spoiling away what happens, so I’m gonna highlight that this story is basically about a mob war and that violent stuff happens and use the handy ao3 sign of ‘Author decided not to display any warnings’

“Do you want me to tell you, or not?”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing quite well on your own”.

It comes off way drier than Leonardo means to, and the without me goes over them, unspoken. He bites the tip of his tongue and stands his ground and tries not to picture the hint of hurt that passes over Primo’s face as Leonardo goes through his business, picking up his suit’s jacket and the briefcase from the sofa as the other looks at him like some kind of gargoyle while he fusses through the office.

“A bomb. In his office”, Primo explains, slow, after a moment, blatantly ignoring him. “Next week, we’re aiming for Friday, although Fiore needs to tie up some loose ends”. A beat of silence. “I insisted on it being Friday. Less people in the building that day, like you said”. Leonardo won’t give in to Primo’s unsubtle attempts to win him over. “I was going to tell you”.

He gives the other a sharp look. What he means to be a sharp look, really. It’s kind of endearing that Primo cannot withstand a grand total of half a minute of silence treatment. No, Leonardo’s still pissed that he didn’t call him into the meeting.

“What loose ends?”, he asks, tone clipped.

“ID passes. He wants to get a couple of original ones”, rob some innocent cleaning lady of her own pass, more likely, Leonardo thinks, as if he were in some shape or form morally superior to that, “and just modify the photos, keeping it simple. He can’t do that a week earlier, it’d be...”, Primo trails off, looking at him with a tinge of—

It’d be less likely to call on any unwanted attention, that’s for sure. And truth be told, they’ve never been lucky with forgeries. It’s not as if they’re trying to enter the fucking Quirinale, and one would think that a sleepy guard on a Friday morning wouldn’t pay much attention to some cleaning staff’s passes, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little bit extra cautious: Romano has proven himself to be able to become quite the headache. And he can’t help feeling a little satisfied at how Primo is not diving head first into danger for once in his fucking life— no. He’s annoyed.

Leonardo hums, pensive. He locks the door of his office after they step outside, and speaks again once he finds another direction in which to funnel his irritation.

“What’s their story, if they’ve got to flee the scene”.

Primo frowns. His patent confusion vindicates Leonardo, for some fucking reason. He focuses on that instead on how much it pisses him off that he already knows that Primo will avoid simply saying that he’s sorry, as if the words were fucking poisonous.

“They don’t manage to do it, what do they do”, he insists.

The eerie stillness of the building, empty at that hour, just makes Primo’s silence louder as they walk to the elevator.

“Why, if someone had thought to ask just that”, Leonardo concludes, sarcastic, stabbing the push button.

Primo huffs. He can behave like a child all he wants, Leonardo is not going to give in. He’s fully capable of becoming as difficult as Primo can be, when he puts his mind to it. Let’s see if the other can take his own medicine—

“Her name’s Lucrezia”.

…

Leonardo is so thrown off by the non sequitur that he almost manages to momentary forget about his exasperation. He stares at Primo for a long moment, the doors of the elevator opening and staying open for them. “...She’s one of his classmates”, Primo adds, as if that clarified anything.

Leonardo’s bewilderment must be patent on his face because Primo makes a whole show of rolling his eyes, looking up as if asking God for patience. He grabs him and pushes him inside the elevator, pushing the button to the ground floor.

“Francesco”, he starts again, slowly, once the doors close off again. He’s probably aiming to be more comprehensible, but doesn’t manage to make it look as if he’s not in some way explaining things to a baby. “He’s not out there doing…”, he has to think for a moment to land in something Leonardo could possibly be pissed off about, and he’s not entirely convinced when he says: “...Drugs, or whatever the hell you’re worried about. He’s just got himself a...”, he trails off again, does a florid gesture with his hand as if he could grab the right word, ends up saying a very dubitative: “... friend”. He shrugs, as if deeming it a suitable enough explanation. “So yeah. You can stop being insufferable now”.

Each button keeps getting illuminated as they descend, a little peep sounding each time they pass a floor. So that’s what was up with them both. Leonardo feels tranquility washing over his surprise, before his gut settles on uneasiness as he continues looking at Primo and the stiffness of his shoulders.

He passes a hand over his face.

“Francesco’s got a girlfriend”.

“You’re not this dense on the usual”.

“And he told you about it”.

He’s well aware that Franceso regards Primo with an undercurrent of hero worship. He’s also intimately familiar with how despite the fact that Primo is a man of many hidden talents, romance is, to put it mildly, not the subject he feels most comfortable with. The other is fucking with him in some way, he can’t help feeling sure of that, and it makes him kind of tense not being able to point out exactly where.

Uncharacteristically of him, Primo feels the need to fill the silence.

“Don’t be jealous”, he starts once the doors open, and he sounds a tad arrogant, as he always does when— “I told him to do a formal presentation at some point, bring her home to have dinner and all that stuff, let Regina gush and… yeah”. He turns to face Leonardo once he realizes that he has stopped on his tracks, adds, defensively: “You have been weird all fucking day. That’s why I didn’t tell you to come into the meeting”.

“Lucrezia”, Leonardo repeats. The name sounds familiar. It’s Primo’s closed off expression what makes realization fall onto his mind like a circuit breaker blowing up the fuse: a scratching sound and then fade to black. He stares at Primo in disbelief, mouth hanging open until he can work around the knot at his throat.

“Brambilla. Lucrezia Brambilla. Brambilla, as in. The daughter of the—”.

“Yes”.

A well-mannered girl, soft spoken and sweet. He has seen her in passing, disappearing behind the tinted windows of his father’s fancy car at the entrance of Francesco’s high school. He knows her father better. Sergio Brambilla.

Prosecutor.

“And you told him it was a good idea?”, Leonardo asks, in which he’d defend as a very reasonable tone of voice, given the circumstances, but doesn’t perhaps quite manage to hit the whole discreet thing, because Primo makes a sharp movement in the general direction of the night guard booth.

“What’s exactly bad about knowing what the fuck happens in that house?”

Of course. Of fucking course Primo would think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised except that for the very little, trivial fact that he cannot believe what he’s hearing!

“You had a hand on it!?”

Primo has the sheer audacity to look offended.

“Me? In what? How the fuck could I possibly— As if it were my fucking fault now that your kid likes blondes!”

“I swear on everything that’s holy, Primo!”

Primo throws a look to the booth over his shoulder, then at him, then promptly grabs his arm and pushes him forward, making him advance towards the garage entrance, past the night guard, who takes a look at them and searches to fade with the wallpaper behind. He loves Primo, God damn them both, he does, but sometimes he’d hit him with a fucking chair, but also no, because someone’s got to keep a levelled head and he refuses to go down the level of a machiavelian, manipulative jerk who deems feasible to intervene in his son’s life like—

“Shut up for a fucking minute, will you”, Primo says, which is fucking rich. Leonardo shoves him off the moment they’re passing the first row of cars, the itch of a fight bubbling right under his skin. Primo doesn’t continue after seemingly making sure that he’s going to listen. He takes a deep breath before doing so, evidently to rile himself in, which would be the most annoyingly petulant thing in the world if he were any other person. “He took a liking to the girl on his own. They’re classmates, as I said. They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”, he shrugs, ostensibly. “She’s also going to study in Rome, it seems”.

It hurts. The fact that not only did Primo know before him about it, but that he has done so for such a very long time.

“And you planned to tell me when, exactly?”, Leonardo can’t help but to interrupt.

Primo copies his sarcastic tone when he answers: “When you’ve decided to make a problem out of it, perhaps?”

He knows in his heart that Primo trusts him, and that he does so seemingly to a further extent than anyone else. That he loves him, in his own peculiar way, and that he’d move heaven and Earth to protect him, and his family. That’s why it’s so hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he wouldn’t even bother to mention something like this. Besides, the careless way he’s speaking about it doesn’t really sit well with Leonardo. As if he had landed himself had single handedly on court when he came to know the girl’s father: “You remember that Brambilla accused me of murder, don’t you?”

“You were acquitted”, the other replies, instantly, tone tense. “You’re a model citizen, for all the guy knows”.

“He defended that I’m a mafioso”, he insists. He remembers the charges line by fateful line. Refusing to talk about it won’t make him forget what happened, notwithstanding Primo’s look on the subject. “He said that I planned to set up a cocaine distribution ring with the money I supposedly stole from—”.

“Nothing about them getting together forces you to have a good relationship with Brambilla”, Primo points out, exasperated, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s Francesco the one who’s dating his daughter”.

Leonardo limits himself to stare at the other from the other side of his Berlinetta when they reach it.

He should have confronted Francesco directly about it, but no, because the kid’s got an angelic face of never having done harm to a fly and he’s soft. Regina has a sixth sense for these things, she would have been a better option, except that he feared that Francesco would have gotten himself in bigger problems than a girl. It’s not a girl, though, not just like that, and really, there’s probably an option that he has somehow missed that would have prevented him from ending up in a parking lot, being looked at as if he’s hawk’s prey.

He sighs, opens the car and gets in, going through the usual motions as Primo follows him suit, putting the briefcase on the backseat, his jacket covering it after he fishes out his keys from one of the pockets.

Francesco could easily say the wrong thing, in the wrong moment, to the wrong person, and neither of them would be none the wiser. He could rat them out in a bid to brag, or because he thinks that he can relax his guard. What if he breaks the poor girl’s heart and she wants to take revenge? He remembers how stupid young love can make you, how blind.

“Telling Francesco that he can’t do it won’t work”, Primo says, serious, but not quite as biting. “You’ll just be handing him over the perfect excuse for him not to tell you shit in the future”.

Leonardo wonders if it’s the girl sticking it to her father what appeals to Primo so much about the whole thing, he supposes the other could appreciate a kindred spirit. It’s obvious that he’s talking from experience, and Leonardo doesn’t know if he feels more insulted by the possibility that Primo might be comparing him to Salvatore, of all people, or to Primo’s own dad, of all fucking people, as if he had ever given the slightest indication that he’d beat— That he’d— Just considering the idea that he might have to explain to the other that not every son has quite the same relationship with their father as Primo did with Angelo Nizzuto makes him kind of nauseous.

Primo must sense where his mind’s heading because he ends up adding: “Doesn’t matter if you’re nice about it, but you can be my damn fucking guest if you want to try”. He shrugs, then looks out of the window, as if he were washing his hands out of the situation instead of biding his time, as Leonardo is completely convinced he’s doing.

This is a lost battle, if Primo has already taken such a defensive stance on the subject. He’s got months on him, despite all (“They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”), more than enough time for him to look at Francesco and Lucrezia from every possible angle and to collect every single argument in favor of their relationship before quick starting a confrontation with him. And really, he’s just so blind sided by the whole thing. He must be a really bad father not to suspect a thing for months.

Leonardo puts the ignition key on, but Primo speaks again before he turns it.

“I’ve just told him to be smart, to pay attention, and not to run himself into problems” he insists, softer. “Your kid can do that. You know he can. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on him”, he turns to face him, “You can at least trust that, don’t you?”

That’s very unfair of Primo. It’s not a question of trust. Francesco’s a very inexperienced hot head. He’d be up to his knees in problems before he recognizes the first signs of danger, let alone ask for help.

“He’ll tell me himself if he does fuck up, you can be sure of that. Holy hell, he just won’t stop talking about the girl, you know? Lulu this, Lulu that”, Primo continues, as if he knew full well that he’s picking at his reticences little by little. Leonardo’s running out of excuses not to associate the pang in his chest with the notion that he’s been kept outside this little secret. “He calls her Lulu”, Primo explains, seemingly flabbergasted at the notion, which is very boldly rich coming from him, and kind of makes Leonardo want to ask him what exactly makes Lulu any more ridiculous of a nickname than Leo.

He snorts, despite himself.

Primo smiles a little when he sees him doing so, as if he’s just proved his point. It’d be so annoying, if it wasn’t so genuine.

“Better to wait the whole thing out. Let him go to Rome. There are more options in Rome. He’ll just grow bored, with time”. Leonardo raises an eyebrow. Primo’s smile takes the barest turn to playful. He deadpans: “Worse case scenario, they do end up getting married and we need to find you a proper suit to wear. You look hot with a suit. I don’t see a downside of the situation for anyone involved”.

Just like that. As if it were so easy.

He’d like to have a smidge of Primo’s unwavering faith in their future, of his unstoppable conviction that they’ll always come up on top, though he’s reduced to trust that the other knows what he’s doing and join for the ride.

Leonardo’s done so many bad things in his life, this is surely his God given punishment.

“When I told you to solve this I didn’t mean, like, personally”, Primo interrupts his train of thought making a vague gesture towards the backseat. “We’ve got people for that. You keep insisting on that: a good boss knows when to delegate”, he adds, in which Leonardo’s forced to interpret as his attempt to mock him. It’s very unfair, given how different is delivering the suitcase from when he told Primo that, that is, when he had to keep him in bed after getting shot, but he knows where Primo’s going with this. He knows this kind of dance.

He looks at him and keeps silent, so Primo’s forced to elaborate. If he wants to have dinner with him, he can just ask. Primo purses his lips, frowns a little, but finally says, slowly:

“I have an idea. That I want your opinion on”, then he stops for a moment, seemingly to revise what he’s going to say, and adds: “That we could discuss, with wine”.

“You want to have dinner at the Olimpo, then?”, he insists, just to hear Primo say it, and not be the slightest bit surprised when he ignores him.

“It’s got to do with your cousin. Does he still want to work for us?”

“Antonio? Yes”.

“How fluent would you say that he’s in Spanish?”

Leonardo takes the ignition key out.

___

An hour later, Dante would finish his cigarette under the street light by the back entrance of the office. He would take a quick look at his watch, and he would get into the car after checking the backseat, adjusting the jacket slightly over the suitcase. If he came back soon enough, he could have dinner with his girlfriend, he’d think, fishing for Leonardo’s car keys in his pocket. Maybe he could take her out next weekend, treat her to somewhere posh by the port. He’d turn the ignition key on.

…

KA-BOOM!!!!!

#trust fx #primo x leonardo #Lau writes #this is awfully domestic truth be told #if you made it to the end: I’m sorry but also I’m not sorry at all #Working title: My daddy’s got a gun (you better run)

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hithelleth · 3 years

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First Lines Of Your Last 20 Fics!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I was tagged by @eveningspirit, thank you! I always like to walk down the memory lane of my writing exploits, they are a nice confidence boos. :)

The Ice King and the Star Boy (The 100 | Bellamy/Roan | E) (aka the monsterfic, as you know it ;))

Banishment.

Impasse (Revolution | CM2 | E)

Charlie finds Bass stretched all lion-like on the king-size bed, studying reports, when she enters the tent.

(Filling) Empty Spaces (Revolution | Jeremy/Charlie | NR)

Charlie was just going to drop off the files Miles had forgotten again, but Jeremy waves her inside as he opens the door.

Only Human (The 100 | various characters | G)

“You’re presenting a puzzle to Rani and Lana.”

Lost (Yellowstone | Jamie Dutton | G)

The plaque on the wall is like a signpost. So, of course he goes to Beth. Because he doesn’t know what to do, whether to accept Rainwater’s – a good man, Perry said, and Jamie might be naïve, but he is not that naïve to think that if everyone plays dirty Rainwater is an exception – patronage or not.

Homework (Station 19 | Vicley | G)

Homework: Write a 100 words about your family or about what you want to be when you grow up.

Now Is Not the End (Station 19 | Vicley | T)

Vic waits with baited breath for that moment she is not ready for. Waits. Waits…

Thoughts on the Future Pasts (Timeless | Nicholas Keynes/Emma Whitmore| T)

The future is... confusing.

Dominoes Falling (TVD/TO | Elena/Elijah/Klaus | NR)

It turns out sometimes late is worse than never.

Close Encounters (Revolution | Charlie/Bass | E)

Bass gets to work well after midnight when the hotel at last falls silent, the partying vacationers having tired themselves out and the early-rising business people not yet up. He is done cleaning the pools before dawn and he sits down in a shaded corner, enjoying the peace and quiet of those last dark cool minutes that offer reprieve from the summer heat.

Reasons to Fight (The 100 | Clarke/Roan | NR)

Roan comes round to something tugging at his hand, constricting his movement. Panic surges in his mind for a moment before he pushes it down and starts cataloguing his surroundings with the methodical precision he learnt as a boy.

Prompts Exist to Be Filled (Revolution, prompt collection, various)

She was a good woman – Jeremy sensed that, although he knew her life had been – perhaps still was – intertwined with Bass’ and Miles’, which also meant that it was fucked up, because those two managed to fuck up everything they touched and he only needed to look in the mirror to find an example; yet, whatever it was up with her and Bass and Miles and however fucked up it was, Jeremy saw her effect on Bass whose eyes lost the glint of craziness and paranoia the moment she appeared: Bass suddenly seemed the man Jeremy met fifteen years ago – the Bass with a sense of shame for his blatant lie and a remnant of naïveté that used to drive him to do the right thing, a man redirected to the path he had lost.

Alien Encounters, Changing Fates, Business as Usual (Killjoys, Revolution, Supernatural | various characters | NR)

After what seems like ages, the turbulence ends with one final jolt that rattles every single bone in their bodies, a clear signal that they have landed – somewhere.

It’s Us Who Own the Apocalypse (Revolution | various pairings | NR)

2030

For the umpteenth time in her life, Rachel regrets getting involved with the goddamn DOD – and for the umpteenth time as well, she acknowledges that she would have done it again if it meant saving Danny – when she almost stumbles into her office from yet another meeting in which she had to fight tooth-and-nail against the bastards trying to use her work for their nefarious purposes.

Convalescence (Quantico | Clayton Haas | NR)

Clayton flinches when he hears the door being unlocked. He always flinches when someone is at the door, although he knows the chance of anyone finding him here is miniscule. The shame at his own cowardice makes him nauseous for a moment; he didn’t use to be one to succumb to fears, but he supposes a near-death experience would do this to a man.

When the Night Breaks (The 100 | Bellamy/Roan | E)

“I’m sorry about your arm.”

The Princess and the Pirates (Revolution | various characters | T)

“Sail out. My brother Miles is out there at sea. He’ll help you.”

Each of Us Is Broken, Always and Forever (The Originals | Elijah/Rebekah/Klaus | E)

“Good evening.”

Hollow (The 100 | Bellarke | NR)

He hadn’t realised it would be like missing a limb. Like in those stories he had heard on the Ark long ago, of a person’s left hand trying to scratch the right one that is no longer there, of phantom pain where there used to be a body part.

There’s a War… but All I See Is You and Me (Agents of Shield | Bakshimmons | E)

It is a stupid thing to wish, but if he were able to stop the time, he would freeze them in those minutes when Jemma giggles between kisses before collapsing on the bed and pulling him down with her.

***

Oh, this took me to 2015 and that shitshow we do not mention, although am sorry I haven't finished this particular fic (but I won't. Nope, nope. Because I'd have to rewatch S2 for that and no, no, no. No. Yes, that's how many no-s it deserves.)

Thank you for the tag, ES, it was nice remembering things I did well, if I say so myself!

It took me so long because on the day you tagged me I started writing it right away and then tumblr decided that e and l are not acceptable letters - I got scared my keyboard was dying, but nope, it worked just fine when typing in word or even into a search line on another tab in the same browser, but tumblr just wouldn't 'take' them.

Also, I remember doing something similar before but with only 10 fics and I could've copy-pasted that and just add the next ten, but do you think I remembered it before I'd already painstakingly did 10 fics? Of course not.

And then, as I think you saw I was too scatter-brained for anything.

Why I'm even explaining this? I think it's the lack of contact with like actual normal humans and this is the closest, so I over do it. Oh, well, if I've already put in the effort to type it all. ;)

Oh, right, patterns: I tend to really vary in style? Though maybe shorter openings are more frequent than more wordy ones.

And my favourite are those from Hollow, Dominoes Falling, and Convalescence. Which one is yours?

Tagging (if it helps you feel better, otherwise, feel free to ignore): @bea2me, @jadedbirch, @abedsmessedupmeta, @stargazerdaisy, @vesperass-anuna and IDK who ever is still writing, oh @blue-charlotte and anyone else who wants to do it! :)

#writing meme #tag meme #this is also an excellent opportunity for self-brag #;)#eveninspirit

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rikumorimachisgirl · 4 years

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So, I started writing this Mystic Messenger fic last year but lost the inspiration to continue. I finally finished it today, so I hope you like it.

Oh, and I commissioned this lovely artwork from @hydeine last year, too. I said I'd tag her when I finally post the fic. I suppose today's the day. Here we go...

Title: Strawberry Pancakes

Pairing: Jumin Han x OC (Iris)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,665

Author's notes: Some of the scenes were faithful to the game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mystic Messenger, but I own the idea of this fanfic.

It started with pancakes. Those thick, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth fluffy stove-top cakes that both of them - apparently - were both fond of.

The first time they talked about it got him into a spot of trouble. Over an utterly dull lunch date with his father and his latest conquest, amidst the rich ambiance of the Michelin star restaurant where only the who's who in society were spotted, Jumin Han chose to indulge in a little tête-à-tête of his own at the RFA chat room with her.

Her. Iris - RFA's accidental member, unofficial party organizer, everyone’s cheerleader, and about the only other person who resonates with him. Jumin quietly as he waited for her to respond to his last message. Over the last twenty minutes, they have gone from talking about Elizabeth the 3rd’s grooming habits to his favorite breakfast food.

| ‘I like chocolate chip pancakes.’ He felt his lips stretch sideways as he read her message. It was strange, he thought, how he's been joining the chat room more often since she joined. In the two weeks that they've been chatting, he felt closer to her than he's ever been with anyone in his life.

| ‘I figured you would.’ He typed and sent.

|’Huh?’

|’You seem like the type who'd indulge in something with high sugar content early in the morning.’

|’That was a lucky guess, Jumin.’

|’But I don't believe in luck.’

|’Oh, and I suppose you think you've got me all figured out already? If you're so smart, tell me what I’m thinking at the moment.’ He smirked at her cheeky response.

| ‘Iris, I'd like to remind you that I’m a businessman, not a fortune teller. If you’d like me to infer based on our conversation though, I'd say you're thinking that I like buttermilk pancakes, to which the answer is no. I prefer strawberry pancakes.’

Silence.

| ‘Am I really that predictable?’ Her message finally came in two minutes later. He chuckled. In his mind, he imagined she probably would’ve pouted as she replied.

“You seem rather amused, son. Did something happen?”

The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his daydream. The young executive silently cursed himself for carelessly dropping his guard. Clearing his throat, Jumin straightened up and ran a hand through his dark locks.

“My apologies, father. I had urgent business to take care of.” He tucked his phone in his pocket while wishing that Iris would understand why he hadn't gotten back to her.

“Judging by your smile, I take it that business is going well?”

It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes at his father's new girlfriend. Glam Choi was it? And what was it that she did? Judging by how she managed to turn heads, he deduced she must be some kind of celebrity. Nothing special, he thought; after all, his father, the Chairman of the Board of C & R International, seemed to have dated them all - socialites, celebrities, models, beauty queens - some of whom were even a year or two his junior.

“Jumin? Are you all right, son?”

He silently cursed himself once more. While he was silently judging his father’s new girlfriend, he had once again dropped his guard and gave the older man the opportunity to call him out.

“My apologies.”

“That's twice you've apologized. My, what an interesting day it is indeed, ” the stately older man said curtly. “Is our company not to your liking, son? Please just bear with us for a few minutes more. After all, your assistant told me that you won't have an appointment in the next hour or so.”

Jumin took a deep breath and sighed. If he had only known his old man’s agenda was to introduce his new girlfriend, he would’ve begged off right away. God knows he’d much rather be eating pancakes with her now than having a full-course meal in this place. He shook the thought away for a moment. Now wasn't the time to dream of her. Fixing his grey eyes at his father and the young celebrity he decided to date, he feigned a smile. “Very well, father, you have my full attention until then.”

OoOoO

The second time they talked about pancakes was more of an afterthought. It happened right after their first kiss.

Their first kiss. The very thought of it still made his heart race. He remembered every little detail as if it were yesterday. He had Assistant Kang to thank for arranging everything for him. Thanks to his efficient employee’s quick thinking, he was able to meet Iris a week earlier than the rest of the RFA members, although if he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn't be as flustered as he was when he first laid eyes on her the night before.

He watched in awe as she stepped into the foyer. She was everything he’d imagined - slender and graceful, her brown hair cascaded down her back, and her dark brown eyes looked back at him with the same level of wonder.

“Jumin, i-it's so nice to finally meet you.”

He swore he’d never felt his heart beat faster than it did at that exact moment. ‘Get a grip, ’ he scolded himself, as he schooled his emotions before it got the better of him. He must not lose his footing, after all, he was Jumin Han - businessman, philanthropist, future CEO.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped from his mouth quite naturally, and he immediately regretted it when he saw her cheeks turn several shades redder.

“I’m sorry, ” he cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was that I hope you traveled safely. If I had known Assistant Kang was going to ask you over, I would’ve sent out my driver to pick you up.”

And then she smiled, and he knew right away that he was going to do whatever it takes to keep her.

“Who is this woman and what is she doing in your house?”

Jumin gazed at the shameless woman his father had been forcing him to marry and resisted the urge to throw her out of his penthouse himself.

“Sarah, please don't be like that. I'm Jumin's friend -”

“And what kind of friend comes a man's house alone? By the looks of it, you probably stayed the night, too!”

If Iris was the least bit upset at the insults hurled at her, she did not let it show. Unfortunately, he was far from being gracious.

“This is dragging on far longer than I expected. I'm actually quite surprised I hadn't thrown you out the door the minute you showed me that fake cat picture. My security will show you out.”

“What? No, you can't do that. I'm your fiancée,” Sarah cried out incredulously.

“Oh, please,” he said haughtily. “If you think that we'd gotten engaged just by exchanging a few words, you're clearly delusional.”

“So, you're choosing her over me?”

“I don't know why you're even asking,” the dashing Chief Director of C & R International said, as he turned his attention to the willowy brunette who stood quietly in the corner. Something about the way she looked at him urged him to come closer to her. With each step he took, the answer became clearer. He stopped in front of her and smiled. She was a good head shorter than him, and she looked adorable gazing up at him with those big brown eyes.

“It wasn't like I had another choice to start with,” Jumin finally said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Iris,” he whispered, as he lifted her chin and closed the gap between them. He could've sworn he felt a shock wave run through his body the minute his lips touched hers. Suddenly, the sound of Sarah's protests faded, and all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat - or was it hers? He really couldn't tell - but every single one of his senses zeroed-in on the beautiful woman in his arms.

Her lips were the softest he’d ever kissed - not that he’s had lots of experience - as a rule, he only kissed women because he needed to close deals with them and the kisses they shared were always cold. This, however, was different. As his mouth moved over hers, again and again, all he could think about were two things - how her kisses taste like strawberry pancakes, and that he could never get enough of her.

OoOoO

The third time they talked about pancakes was a memory guaranteed to make her blush almost immediately. He remembered vividly - Provence in July, a month after they'd gotten married. He promised to take her on an unforgettable honeymoon anywhere she wished. He thought she'd choose to go to Paris, Santorini, Milan, or even Ibiza, and he’d be happy to take her there; but instead, she chose to go to his newly-purchased winery so he could still oversee their daily operations while spending time with her and Elizabeth the 3rd.

That's so like her.

He woke up alone in bed one Sunday morning. Frustration marred his beautiful face as he ran his hand over her now-empty side of the bed, and found it still warm. She couldn't have been gone for long, he thought. And Elizabeth the 3rd, who usually enjoyed sleeping late, was not in the room as well. Still half-asleep, he forced one eye open to glance at the clock on her nightstand.

‘Six-thirty, ’ he groaned silently, as he rolled on to his back. What exactly could his wife be up to this early? Sighing, he rolled out of bed and left the room in search of the beautiful woman who disappeared from his side before he even got to kiss her good morning.

The house was quiet except for some movement coming from the kitchen. Raising an eyebrow, he quietly made his way to the large French country-style kitchen his wife loved so much and found himself entranced at the sight of the lovely brunette he now called wife, stirring something in the mixing bowl while their pet sat on the counter, looking curiously at her.

"I hope I get this right, Elizabeth the third, " she told the cat softly. "Jumin's pancakes always taste good, so I hope he'll like these."

Her innocent declaration made him gasp. She was making pancakes for him. And that realization made him pick up his feet and head over to where she was at.

"I see you both are up early."

"Jumin -, " she cried out in surprise, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind. "Good morning, my love. I didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I could say the same about you, especially after we made love several times last night, " he responded, as he planted soft kisses on the side of her neck. Her cheeks turned red at the thought of their passionate night together, and he smiled, knowing how embarrassed she was. "You're blushing."

"I can't help it…, " she murmured. "And I think you've disappointed Elizabeth the third."

He watched their pristine white cat jump off the counter and saunter out of the kitchen. "I think she's just giving us some privacy. Don't worry, she'll be fine, " the dashing young businessman said as he stopped kissing her, but kept her in an embrace. "So, tell me what you're up to."

"I was going to make strawberry pancakes for you, " she started, her face still flushed. "But I'm not sure they're as good as the ones you make."

"Is that so?" He unwrapped his arms and moved closer to the counter where the mixing bowl was. "I suppose there's just one way to find out."

She watched in silence as he dipped his long and slender finger into the bowl and scooped up a tad bit of better. Carefully, he brought his finger near her lips, while watching her gently. "Say ahhh…, " he said and laughed at how dutifully his wife complied. "Well?"

"It's sweet…"

Cocking his head to one side, he smiled at her wryly. "Is that so?"

"Why don't you taste for yourself?"

His eyes twinkled with excitement, as she failed to realize how enticing her offer was. Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned forward and whispered, "I suppose I will, " before he ravished her mouth - and all of her body - over and over just like the night before.

The pancake batter was left untouched until later that day. And as she had placed ointment on the scratches she had left on his back, he feasted on the strawberry pancakes she had made just for him.

OoOoO

The fourth time they talked about pancakes was on Valentine's Day - the first of many they'll be spending together. He thought of many ways they could be celebrating this together and spent a lot of sleepless nights thinking of the perfect present for her. Never once did he think they'd be spending the day spooning her in bed, with one hand caressing her swollen belly.

Thirty-eight weeks. She had been carrying their first child for nearly nine months, and despite her growing belly and her slight weight gain, she continued to look even more beautiful.

"I really want pancakes, Jumin."

His hand stopped moving, and he raised an eyebrow at her upon hearing her request. "Darling, I asked you what you wanted for Valentine's…"

She snuggled closer to him as she felt his low voice vibrating on his chest. The gentle sound of his voice always soothed her and the baby, and she wanted to hear more of it today. "And I told you I want pancakes."

He frowned, feeling a little upset at her answer. In truth, she could have anything she wanted - jewelry, cars, all the designer items a woman could get her hands on - but all she wanted to for Valentine's was his home-cooked pancakes. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I want, " she hummed. A few seconds later, she felt the baby kick and the sensation made her giggle. "See? Even the baby wants pancakes."

"But the doctor said you should lay off sweets…" He should have known better than to speak those words because no sooner had he said them, she immediately turned to him with sad puppy eyes. He sighed. He knew at this point that he had lost to her once again - after all, he could never resist her - but he wanted to make her victory a little harder. "As I was saying, the doctor said…"

"But Jumin, I haven't had anything sweet since we found out I was pregnant, " she said, pouting. "And I'm really craving the strawberry pancakes you make."

"Will that make you happy?"

"Very much so."

Sighing again, he untangled himself from her and rolled out of bed. "All right. I suppose I can alter the recipe a little bit. You just lay there and rest, okay? I'll be back with your pancakes."

Elizabeth the third jumped from her bed and walked beside Jumin as he stepped out of the room. "How long do you think before she rolls out of bed and follows us?" He asked, glancing sideways at their precious feline as she mewled her response. "Ten minutes? That's too generous. She's been too fussy lately, but something tells me you're spot on, so we need to move fast."

And true to form, a very pregnant Mrs. Han waddled out of their room ten minutes later, enticed by the mouthwatering scent wafting from the kitchen.

"Those smell heavenly, " she said excitedly, as she made her way beside her husband and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Jumin, " she whispered before she waddled towards the cozy little breakfast nook she had designed for them.

He smiled, as he watched her walk away from him. She had no idea how happy she's made him, how lucky he was that she came into his life, and how thankful he was for all the many things that brought them closer together. Especially strawberry pancakes.

The end.

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