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h0tchner · 3 years

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Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He��s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

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Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fandom #my fics #rb!!!!!! ily!!!!!!!!!#ivyheliotrope #abby!#aaron hotch

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Exposed (Sidon x f!Reader)

The ornate silver neck piece made contact with the tiled floor with a satisfying clank. With each clasp undone, Sidon felt his body buzzing at the newfound lightness. The metallic chime of his final piece of garment, his left bracelet, was a beautiful sound that echoed off the vast pillared walls of his chambers. Although it already had been a day since his arrival, his muscles still ached with a dull tightness brought onto him from the journey to Hyrule Castle. A subtle form of tiredness akin to jetlag was quickly draining his energy and he could not wait to submerge himself in the ample pool that laid before him.

Sidon padded to the edge of the water, streaks of ivory moonlight passing over his crimson scales. He kneeled down, wincing as he heard a few of his bones crack, and dipped an experimental hand into the basin. The warmth of the liquid sent a shiver up Sidon’s body and he immediately slid into the water in one fluid movement. The castle maids had prepared his pool with warm water, per your request, to the exact temperature you knew he liked it. Although this was just one of the many guest rooms in the immense castle, he felt your homey presence in every corner of the chamber. It made his heart flutter in adoration.

Sinking lower, he let the water engulf his shoulders. The tension diffused out and a supple moan escaped his parted lips. Lightly treading water, his thoughts circulated through his mind much like the gentle current of the pool. The officials and champions he had rekindled with today, what was he going to eat tomorrow morning, how radiant you had looked in your formal w-

“Prince Sidon, I forgot to ask you on more question before you retired to the room!” Zelda’s melodic voice carried from the hallway. Her small but sturdy frame emerged from behind the towering door, the hem of her gown swaying about her ankles as she danced her way into the entryway. Soon after she appeared, your head peeked its way around the frame.

Perhaps it was the abruptness of the entry, the intimate solitude of the chambers, his discarded garments, or all factors combined, but Sidon suddenly felt hot. Uncomfortably hot; and not from the water.

“A-ah, yes Princess, what did you want to, ah, ask me?” He coughed, awkwardly sinking lower into the pool. He cursed the palace for having such crystal clear water.

Your brow knit into a firm line at his flustered state. Never before had you seen him act like this seemingly for no reason. When his eyes began flicking anxiously from the pile of metal to you, a wave of understanding flooded your consciousness. Sidon felt exposed. And he was embarrassed about it.

It was natural for Hylian habits to rub off on him since the two of you had started courting. When you were in the Domain, the only time you spent away from the Prince was when you were working on Vah Ruta or the one to two hours of his council meetings. With all that contact how could a few things not start to be ingrained in Sidon’s daily routine? It was clear now by the steady reddening of his cheeks that one of those habits pertained to wearing garments. Or more specifically, when one is caught not wearing them.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” She blinked, unclear of what had him acting so strangely. Sidon looked like he was about to expire in the cloud of uncomfortableness that was circling above the pool. As adorable as he looked, shuffling bashfully and avidly studying the carvings on the nearest pillar, you needed to save him. Biting back your laughter you tapped Zelda lightly on the shoulder. Her head whipped around, confusion still inscribed on her face.

“Zelda, it appears that Sidon was not expecting company this late at night.” You stated, giving her a knowing look you prayed she would pick up on. You cocked your head subtly towards the armor and Zelda gasped softly, the tips of her pointed ears running rosy. She then looked to the Prince with panic written all over her features and he returned the expression tenfold. The two of them turned from mimicking rose petals to beats instead, only making the aroma of the room more thick with tension.

“Oh my goodness! My deepest apologies, Sidon. I didn’t realize you were having, ahem, some alone time.” She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the floor so fast you wondered if she got whiplash.

“Well, Y/N can just tell me your answer tomorrow morning. Until then.” She stuttered, abruptly turning on her heels and disappearing behind the door. Once the brisk click signaled her departure, every muscle, tendon, and scale in Sidon’s body went lax. He sighed, tipping his head back against the edge of the pool with a gentle clunk. You took a moment to drown in his appearance. He was like a slightly wilted lotus flower with coral petals basking in the rippling droplets of indigo moonlight.

It now physically hurt to restrain your hysterics and you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, drowning the luminated room in a symphony of laughs not unlike a songbird’s. Sidon poked one eye open and shook his head in mortified distress, still lazily leaning against the tiled rim.

“Stop laughing, Y/N. I bet she thinks I was doing something lewd or weird. In her castle of all places.” He grumbled, raising his hands out of the water to run them over his face.

Once you had reigned in your cacophony you padded over to the pool and sat down next to his deflated form, feet dangling into the water.

“Nah. It’s okay, Si. She’s my oldest and best friend. If she does I’ll tell her the truth.” You nudged him playfully. He lolled his head to the side in your direction.

“That might be even more embarrassing…” Sidon trailed off, his face contorted into a slight grimace. You returned it with a fond smile.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He huffed, a feigned pout forming on his features. The rosiness on his cheeks bloomed once more as he lightly splashed your feet where they embraced the water’s surface.

“You know, you used to never be embarrassed about being seen without your accessories.” You stated innocently, eyeing him to observe his reaction.“They don’t really leave anything to the imagination, anyway.”

“Hylian customs are rubbing off on me, I guess.” He replied in a small voice, snaking an arm around your calf to press himself into your side. He started idly playing with your toes, offering a squeak from you. You lightly kicked out, hoping to shake him off. Instead he only scooted closer yet he resigned from his tickling.

“What did the Princess want to ask me?” Sidon inquired. He seemed to be mostly recovered from the ordeal.

“She wanted to know what you wanted for breakfast tomorrow. You left before she could put in an order for the chef.”

“Damn, that’s an important question.” He muttered, setting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with anticipation, his eyes large and blinking.

“I was planning on telling her smoked salmon.” You informed the prince, giving his caudal fin a loving stroke. Sidon’s eyes lit up, his saffron orbs turning a brilliant gold that put the calming hue of the starlight to shame. He could feel himself start to salivate at the mention of the Hylian delicacy.

“Don’t drool on my leg.” You teased, chuckling as he gulped audibly. You were unable to convey your thoughts on the dish as the deep chiming of the castle’s clocktower replaced whatever voice you would have spoken. The twelve bells signaled it had just turned midnight.

“It’s late, we should both get some rest. We need to wake up early for the festivities tomorrow.” You let out a bittersweet sigh, not wanting to break away from the closeness you shared but knowing you would be the walking dead in the morning if you stayed up any longer. As you rose to your feet, Sidon’s head limply fell into the water, his gaze never leaving your form. Just as you were about to deliver a sweet goodnight, he gingerly grabbed your ankle.

“Please stay, my pearl.” He suggested, a gentle plea that caused your heart to skip a beat.

“Can’t get enough of me, hm?” You sang.

“A very true statement, darling.” Sidon cooed, the warmth radiating from his gaze brushing the tips of your ears and leaving a blushed residue in its wake.

“Alright.” You responded through a yawn.

“We can go back to your chambers, if you’d like.” Sidon suggested, releasing his hold on your ankle and making a move to leave the basin. You shook your head and held a hand out to stop him. He halted his movements immediately and blinked up at you.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get my bed wet. I will go get some blankets and return.” You chuckled as you strode towards the doors. He hummed in agreement, a breathy laugh puffing from his chest. Grasping the knob, you turned to face Sidon once more.

“Better keep an eye on this door, my prince. Wouldn’t want someone to see you so exposed now would we?” You warned, tone velvety and blithe. The last thing you heard before you skittered out of the room was a loud groan and the sound of an unlit candle being halfheartedly thrown at the door.

#loz #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #botw fanfiction #loz sidon #prince sidon #sidon x reader #sidon/reader #prince sidon x reader #prince sidon/reader #zora #zelda #botw imagine #botw drabble #drabble #sidon fluff #fluff

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Biggest regret (part 3)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: So many of you guys love this story and I love it. Thank you guys 😊

So this one really went off on a tangent and it's longer than I thought. But I didn't wanna rush this and I'm enjoying this story. So he doesn't meet his kid yet, that's in the next part that I'm writing right now. Then there will be another part that I've got in mind too.

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness, fluff kinda, emotional Billy.

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Delilah cooed happily where she was perched in a little rocker seat. It was vibrant pinks and yellows with a bar along the top and little stuffed animal shapes dangling off it that she swatted with her chubby hands.

You were cleaning. Stress cleaning to be precise. Ever since you got that letter from Billy you'd felt out of sorts. You really hadn't expected it. You'd spent the better half of the start of your pregnancy thinking he'd come to his senses. That he'd turn up and say sorry or even call or text. But by the end of the pregnancy you realised you'd asked too much of him. That maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow having him just walk out of your lives like that. Your pregnancy hadn't been easy by any means and that only made it harder. You had no family, no real friends. You'd been completely alone. Every time you ended up at hospital the nurses took pity on you. Seeing you so sick with no visitors or help. It had been hard.

Since Delilah could return home, one of your neighbours in your complex had taken to helping you. Louise was a woman in her 60s and before now you'd only ever seen her in passing with a murmured hello. But seeing you struggle as a single mother, she'd taken you under her wing and helped you immensely.

You had to work from home since you had the baby. The time off with unpaid maternity leave when she was born and was sick had set you back quite a bit and now you were struggling. You'd had to leave your job since there was no way you could do it from home and you didn't have child care or the money to do it. And honestly, after having Delilah, the overwhelming urge to keep her safe was shocking. You didn't really want to leave her with someone you didn't know. It had been hard for you to agree to it with Louise who would occasionally have her for an hour or two so you could catch a break. And she was literally only next door which eased your mind a little.

Now you were doing proofreading and transcription work from home and it didn't exactly pay great. You got by though and you made do with what you had. You just didn't expect things to go this way. You still remember when you found out you were pregnant and told Billy. It had been a huge shock to you and despite the nagging feeling that this was how it would end, you stupidly hoped it would be different.

You sat on the bed, the test in your hands as the two pink lines glared at you. You were pregnant. You had a baby in your belly. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You and Billy weren't even super serious. There were feelings involved but neither of you mentioned it. Opting instead to pretend they weren't there. You were scared if you told him you loved him that he'd run for the hills and he was scared of feeling anything at all.

You'd been 'together' for nearly two years. You weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend, there were no labels slapped on you both. But everyone knew you were his and he was yours and it worked just fine. But now there was a baby. Now things got serious way quicker than you expected and you were terrified.

You weren't ready to be a mom. You'd never put much thought into having kids and you didn't know how to be a mother. You'd have a tiny human that depended on you to keep them safe and loved. How the fuck would you manage that? And then there was Billy. You'd have to tell him and you felt sick with worry about how he would react.

You knew about his childhood, you knew pretty much everything about each other. He'd never known love as a child and you hoped that would mean it would force him to want to be there and be a good dad. But you knew him well enough to have the worry that it would have the opposite effect and he'd freak out.

He'd been at work and you'd been at his place. You didn't live with him, you still had your own place. But you stayed there most nights or he would be at yours. You never spent a night away from each other.

You heard the front door open and close and you felt a wave of dread settle over you. Like an ice cold blanket snaking around your entire body as it squeezed. You had to tell him. You had to hope he would be okay with this. You knew you'd keep the baby regardless. Despite only knowing for literal minutes, you cared about this baby. This baby was a piece of you and a piece of Billy. There was no way you couldn't keep them.

"Hey, sweetheart! I'm home!" You heard him call from the living room. You swallowed thickly as you stood on shaky legs, stuffing the test in the pocket of your hoodie. You made your way to the living room as he shucked off his jacket. He looked handsome as always and he flashed you a warm smile when he saw you. But it fell when he took in your anxiety induced state.

"What's wrong?" He asked carefully, black eyes scanning over you like he was checking if you were hurt. Your throat tightened as you felt your eyes prickle and you willed the tears away.

"Uh… you should sit down. We need to talk," you murmured softly. He frowned, tilting his head as he regarded you.

"Sounds ominous," he replied dryly. He complied though and moved to sit on the sofa. You opted to stay standing near the coffee table.

Your whole body felt like it was shaking and you felt in your bones that this was the moment where everything would change. Either for better or worse, but change was coming and it hurt your heart. You needed to just tell him, get it over with. You inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at him. His face was etched in concern and he was patient with you, watching all the emotions pass over your face.

"I'm pregnant," you blurted, grabbing the test from your pocket and handing it to him. His eyes almost popped out of his head and he grabbed the test, staring at it. You couldn't get a good read on his face other than the surprise and you didn't like that. He was staring at it hard and you knew he was deep in thought. That cold dread came back and sunk its claws into you.

Suddenly, he tossed the test on the coffee table, springing out of his seat and moving around to the back of the couch like he wanted to get far away from you.

"No," he frowned. You blinked dumbly at him for a moment as your eyes burned.

"No?" You asked softly. His dark eyes pinned you in place then. For a brief moment you saw utter pain and complete panic, eyes glassy with unshed tears. But then all emotion left his face, left his eyes, and it felt like a punch to the gut. You'd seen that look on his face before but never directed at you.

"I'm not… I can't do this. I don't want a kid," he said coldly. The lump in your throat got bigger as you nodded. What else could you say? You could cry and scream and fight but what was the use? Part of you expected this although you hoped for something else. You couldn't force him to stick around. If he wanted out then you had no choice but to let him.

You felt tears slip down your face as you glared at the floor, lower lip quivering. You couldn't look at him. The pain you felt was unbearable. Pain for yourself for losing him, pain at how cold he was being, and pain for your baby for having a dad that didn't want them. Did Billy even realise he was continuing the cycle of his own upbringing?

You felt his eyes burning into you but you couldn't look. You had so many things you wanted to say but they all caught on the lump in your throat. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and left, slamming his door behind him so loud you jumped. You sobbed then, moving to curl up on the sofa as you let it all out. He was gone. You'd have to do this all alone and you missed him already despite him leaving you like this.

You were unsure of how long you lay on his sofa sobbing your heart out until your phone chimed with a message. Stupidly you thought it was Billy saying sorry. It was Billy, but he definitely wasn't apologising.

'I'll be back in two hours. Pack all your shit and be gone before I get home. Don't contact me again.'

You felt a surge of anger and bitterness seep into you then. You thought he'd cared. Never had he told you how he felt about you but he acted like he cared. Introduced you to the Castle's, his family. But clearly you were wrong. His message was loud and clear. You didn't respond, there was no need. He wanted to never hear from you again and that was fine. You packed anything of yours and left within an hour, your heart heavy with pain, hurt and anger.

When you got his letter, at first you were angry. You wanted to be petty. Wanted to ignore it or send him one back telling him to go fuck himself. But you'd looked at your daughter then with her sweet smile and her dad's eyes and you couldn't. Because despite what he'd done, she deserved her dad.

You hadn't responded to the letter right away. Two weeks you kept reading it and coming to terms with all the emotions it brought you. You knew you still cared about him even after what he'd done. You couldn't help it. But his letter sounded so sincere and the self loathing in his words tugged at your heart. He'd fucked up big time, but he was trying to fix it. Billy was a proud man and you knew it took him a lot to reach out to you. You wanted Delilah to get to know her dad and wanted her to have a relationship with him.

You had a lot to work through and you and Billy would need some serious talks to be able to co-parent properly, but you'd do it for Delilah. There wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't do for that girl.

So you'd replied and now you've been waiting for his call. You were full of nerves and you could taste the emotions lingering from the day he left in the back of your throat. You felt like you were in some kind of limbo.

After stress cleaning for a bit and looking after Delilah, you sat on the sofa with the TV on low as she snoozed in her little seat. You felt lucky she was such a chill baby. The pregnancy and birth had been harder to deal with and you thought having her would be difficult but it hadn't been that hard for you. Louise kept telling you that you had natural maternal instincts and that you'd picked it up easily.

You tried to pay attention to the screen when your phone buzzed from your pocket. Your heart skipped a beat as you got it out. It was a number you didn't recognise and your breath started coming in shorter because you knew just who it would be.

"Hello?" Your voice shook a little as you answered and you heard a soft sigh on the other end.

"Hey, Y/N, it's Billy," his voice was smooth like always but it sounded off. A little raw.

"You got my letter then," you murmured. You rolled your eyes at yourself for stating the obvious but you didn't know what else to say. Never had it been so stilted and awkward to talk to Billy.

"Yeah… and I know you asked me to really think about it, so I did. And I wanna be there. I'd like to… I'd like to meet her if I can," he sounded apprehensive and you wondered if he thought that you'd reject him even after telling him in the letter you wanted them to meet.

"Okay… I'd like to meet up with you first. We have a lot to talk about that needs dealing with before you meet her," you said firmly. This you wouldn't budge on. There was a lot of unresolved tension and feelings around you both and one quick meeting with him wouldn't fix that, but you wanted to clear some air before he came to meet Delilah so it wasn't completely tense. You also wanted to make sure he really was 100% with this or you wouldn't allow it to happen. You wouldn't let her get hurt.

"Yeah, I'll do… anything you need. Whatever you want," he answered quickly. You nodded even though he couldn't see it, happy that he wasn't fighting you on it. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take this seriously which was good.

"Right… uh… I can… I can meet you today. The diner down the street from my place? About 6pm?" You asked softly. You heard him sniffle a bit down the phone and you started to wonder if he'd come up with an excuse about work. You knew he worked late a lot.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll be there," he said resolutely. This was a good start already.

"I'll see you then, bye Billy," you murmured.

"Bye, Y/N," he replied softly. You hung up and blew out a breath, your shaking hands gripping your phone. You hadn't heard his voice in over a year and it had your heart hammering away against your ribcage. You still loved him but the love was tainted with pain and betrayal. You'd have to stuff it down for the sake of your daughter.

You didn't bother to change out of your jeans, boots, tee and hoodie and after asking Louise if she could look after Delilah for a bit, you set off out. You'd told Louise everything. She already knew what happened with Billy and you'd even let her read his letter. While she wasn't happy he'd walked away in the first place, she was happy he was trying to step up now. You were glad she was supporting you with this.

You got to the diner five minutes early and fully expected to have to wait. But when you got inside, Billy was already sitting in a booth. He looked shit scared and his fingers drummed on the table restlessly. As you approached, his head snapped up. So many emotions crossed his face as he looked at you that you couldn't keep up with them. But when it settled on heartbreak you felt your own squeeze painfully in your chest.

He stood up as you got to the table and there was an awkward moment where you both looked at each other. He looked tired. He had dark rings around his eyes and his usually perfect hair was a little dishevelled. He had on casual clothes and his leather jacket. He took a step closer like he was going to hug you and you stepped back without thinking. His face fell a little and he nodded, the movement stiff but he seemed to understand you weren't ready for it.

He moved to sit down and you sat opposite him. It was so tense you could cut the air with a knife and you didn't even know where to start. The waitress came over then and gave you both a bright smile and you both ordered coffee. Once she was gone the tense atmosphere was back.

"I'm sorry," Billy muttered brokenly. Your eyes looked up at him then and he was staring at you with shiny eyes. Your throat constricted and you cleared it.

"Billy-" you started with a frown. He cut you off though.

"I know… I know I'm the biggest asshole out there. I don't deserve you sittin' here or givin' me a chance. But I want you to know that… I thought about you and the baby… Delilah… every damn day. And I-I hated myself for walkin' away. And I can't take back what did, but I can be better. I want to be better. And I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I left. But I'm serious when I say I wanna be here. You said I'm in or out and I want in. And I swear, I fuckin' swear that I'll prove to you I'm a better man," he said imploringly, leaning his forearms on the table as he watched you.

You blinked at him, collecting your emotions as the waitress came over with the coffees. She didn't linger, sensing the heaviness of whatever was happening in your booth.

"I'm glad you're here, Billy. And it's gonna take work for us to… to be okay around each other. But Delilah is the focus here and you deserve to have a relationship with her. You're her dad," you said softly. He sneered, not at you but himself, as he shook his head.

"No… no I'm not. I haven't been there. Sure she's mine, my DNA, my blood, but… I walked out. I left you, I left her and you both needed me. I'm not a dad, not yet. But I'll do whatever it takes to show you I'm worthy of bein' her dad," his voice shook yet was also firm and you knew in your heart he meant his words. It settled you a bit to know he really was serious about this.

"I'll be honest… part of me expected to come here and you wouldn't be ready. That you were talking shit for whatever reason. But I believe you. I wish it hadn't taken this long but I'm glad you're here now, Billy. It's been… so fucking hard doing this alone," your hands were around your cup and you stared at them as you spoke, your voice quiet among the light buzz in the diner.

You heard his breathing hitch and looked at him again. His fists were clenched and his head was lowered which made it hard to read his face. His whole body was tense and you were about to open your mouth to ask if he was okay when you noticed his shoulders shaking slightly. Oh.

He sucked in a breath as a broken sob left his lips and it ripped a hole right through your chest. Now matter what he'd done, seeing him this way was jarring. You'd seen many sides to Mr Billy Russo and you'd even seen him cry before. But he looked so worn down and broken and it hurt you even if it was his own fault.

His elbows resting on the table, he brought his hands up and rested his head on them as he openly sobbed. You never thought you'd see the day that Lieutenant Russo cried in a public space but he seemed beyond caring.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stood and moved to his side. You slid into the booth next to him as your own eyes welled up and you reached out a shaky hand to stroke the back of his neck. He tensed at first like he hadn't even noticed you'd moved which was startling given how perceptive he was about everything around him. But then he relaxed and moved his face from his hands and turned to look at you. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked younger and vulnerable.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he didn't hesitate to bury his face in your neck as his own arms held you tightly. You stroked his hair softly, trying to soothe him a little. You couldn't help it. Maybe it was that maternal instinct that always hated when someone was upset around you or maybe it was just the fact that no matter what happened, you did still care.

"It's okay, Billy," you whispered through your own tears. He shook his head where it was still pressed against your now damp neck.

"No it's not. I fucked up. I shoulda been there," his voice was muffled and broken with his soft sobs that were slowly easing and you held him a little tighter.

"You did fuck up but you're here now and that's what matters," you murmured. You pulled away and he let you go reluctantly as he sniffled and looked down. You reached up and wiped his cheeks with your hoodie sleeves and then he looked at you.

"We can't change the past, Billy. Yeah, you messed up, and yeah it hurt me. But you already missed out on so much and that's a punishment in itself. Things aren't gonna be easy and it'll take time for us to heal, but you're here now and Delilah needs you. That's what matters," you uttered, hands falling from his face.

He sniffled again as he nodded, his obsidian gaze searching your face like he was looking for something.

"I don't… I don't have the words because thank you doesn't even come close. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you helpin' me out and I don't deserve Delilah. I didn't really think I'd hear from you and now here you are, fuckin' comforting me in a diner when it should be the other way around," he lamented with a frown.

"I don't like seeing you cry," you shrugged with a weak smile as your hands toyed with the sleeves of your hoodie. He gave you a small smile back as he nodded. A silence settled over you both then and it was slightly awkward. You knew he was probably embarrassed and also still beating himself up. Once upon a time you'd be glad to know how hard he was being on himself over this. But seeing him like this was painful.

There were still a lot of things to sort through with the pair of you but they weren't the priority. The first and most important thing was him establishing a relationship with his daughter. You figured in time things would get easier with him and he seemed dead set on being here now. And you could see the genuine remorse for walking away so you knew he was serious.

"I should go. But uh…" you murmured as you stood from the booth, Billy following suit.

"You can… you can meet her tomorrow if you'd like? I could… I don't know, make dinner for us all? You could come by my place and meet her before dinner?" You suggested, voice laced with uncertainty. His face lit up then even with his slightly damp cheeks and shiny eyes. His smile was bright even if it was hesitant.

"I'd really like that," he nodded as he gazed down at you.

"Okay… good. Uh… come by around 5?" It still felt awkward between you and you hated it. It used to be so easy between the two of you.

"I will… thank you, Y/N," he murmured sincerely. You nodded and gave him a little smile. He stepped forward and this time you didn't step back. The hug didn't last long but it took you back to a time when things were good with the pair of you. Where you felt safe in his strong arms surrounded by his calming scent. It sent a pang through your chest. You hugged him back before he moved away and you gave him another nod before you left.

By the time you were walking in your complex you had tears down your cheeks. It had been hard to see him after everything. Hard to see him such a mess too. You had that feeling, the same one you did the day you found out you were pregnant. That things were changing, this was a turning point. Only this time it was a good one.

It was hard to wrap your head around after all this time that he'd be there. Of course there would be a period of adjustment where he got to know his daughter, but eventually he'd be parenting just like you. It was a strange feeling to comprehend that you wouldn't be alone in this anymore.

Seeing him and speaking to him, it had eased some of the bitterness that you'd held for him. Not completely but quite a bit. You couldn't hold onto the anger and pain of the past, not when Delilah needed this. You'd never be able to go back and redo how things happened but you could close that chapter and start a new one. One where Billy was actually around and your daughter had a dad. Despite the nerves for the dinner the next day, you were also a little excited and hopeful.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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tinawriting · 3 years

Text

I want everything with you (S.B)

Requested: Yes/No

Pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader

Navigation

Summary: In his best friend’s wedding, Sirius realises how much he wants to feel that too.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, a bit steamy??, Sirius being hopelessly in love with Y/n yes it’s a warning, not proofread, my english.

Word count: 1.2k

Sirius looked at his right to see his best friend, his brother, getting married to the woman he loved. He thought about how it was being in third year and listen to him rambling about how beautiful Evans' eyes were or how much he liked her and how annoyed Sirius was with him for not being able to spend a day without talking about Lily. And then, in sixth year, he understood.

That year he realised that James wasn't being an idiot, he was being annoying, but it was for a good reason.

After meeting Y/n his whole world changed, it was like the whole world was black and white and after looking into those beautiful eyes colour washed all over his life.

Even just thinking of her got him all giddy and stupid. One would think that after being three years together you could get used to the fact that you were in a relationship, but Sirius didn't. He still couldn't believe that that wonderful woman loved him back, every time he looks at her he can feel a funny feeling in his stomach. When he kisses her, it's like nothing else matters. When he makes love to her, he swears he isn't alive anymore, because nothing can feel that good, nothing can be more otherworldly that being skin to skin with Y/n.

He looked around the place and saw how so much people had reunited to celebrate the union of James and Lily, and wondered how many people would assist at his wedding. No one from his family of course, expect maybe Andromeda and Regulus. Sirius felt a pang in his heart at the thought of his younger brother rejecting his invitation, which was the most possible scenario.

Shaking his head a little to get rid of his thoughts he came back from his gaze just on time to hear the 'I do' and see the kiss that would make it official. He looked at his left and saw Remus and Peter smiling softly, and he would love to tease Moony for the evident tears on his eyes but for once, he decided it wasn't the right moment, more so because there were tears in his own eyes as well.

When he looked at his right, past the happy couple, he saw Y/n, and the sight make him lose his breath like it was the first time he saw her. She was standing next to Marlene smiling softly at James and Lily, Y/n was wearing her bridesmaid dress, a pretty dark blue that hugged her beautiful body perfectly, Sirius felt proud on knowing that he would be the one who takes it off that night.

They made eye contact and Sirius smirked before sending her a wink, when they first started dating he could make her blush with just a wink or a compliment. Now she just rolled her eyes affectionately and blew him a kiss, he pretended to catch it and put it on his lips, she faked a gag and Sirius' smirk turned into a full grin. Their relationship wasn't the same as it was at the beginning, now they were more playful, more intimate. They weren't just a couple, they were best friends, and Sirius wouldn't change that for anything in the world.

Sirius was swaying to the music with his arms wrapped around Marlene's waist, she looked really pretty tonight, he noticed how her eyes would look away to her right repeatedly.

"You think Dorcas would dance with me if I ask her to?" She said looking longingly in her direction.

"Of course she'll say yes, she'd had a crush on you for years" he said. "Although I do not recommend it, you had step on my feet at least six times."

"Shut up," she said chuckling and shoving at his shoulder playfully. "Alright. I'm doing it. Wish me luck." And with that she step out of his embrace and went in Dorcas' direction. Sirius find it extremely funny that a girl that independent, strong and confident could be reduced to a blushing mess for being close to her crush. But again, the same thing had happened to him.

It was like their minds were connected, because then he felt a pair of arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

"Hello handsome, can I have this dance?" When he turned around in her arms he was met with the fragrance of her perfume and let himself sink in it, he looked her in the eyes, those alluring eyes that made his knees weak and smiled brightly at her.

"Hey gorgeous," he said leaning down and leaving a kiss on her lips. "We haven't been together the whole night." The music had turned slightly slower and he took the opportunity to pull her closer by the hips, their bodies swaying in sync to the music.

She grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down to kiss him. He gasped out of surprise and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, their tongues warm against each other, her hands on his hair, his hands grabbing roughly her hips, Sirius felt as his whole body was exploding, and when they pulled apart enough to breathe he remembered that they weren't actually alone.

"I'll give you all the attention you deserve tonight." She said sultry against his lips. He felt how his heart has beating wildly as a reaction of kissing the love of his life. He smirked at how her eyes were half-closed in desire, a look he now knew too well.

"You know," he said. "I was thinking earlier of how I'm going to rip this dress off you tonight." They both just looked at each other, soft smiles on their faces, her eyes were big and dark with lust, and the thought of her naked clouded his mind, he felt his blood rushing down, down, down-

"They look really happy," she said looking at James and Lily dancing together not taking their eyes off each other. "I couldn't think of a better match."

"Us." He said simply. "We're perfect for each other, and when we get married everyone it's going to say the same thing."

"When we get married? Not if?" She asked looking up at him. "Do you want to get married?"

"No, I don't want to get married, I want to marry you. I want everything with you. Just you. So yes, when we get married, unless you don't want to." Sirius said feeling suddenly nervous, he didn't even think before confessing this to her, if she said no this might ruin their entire relationship, he wanted to punch himself in the face for even mentioning it, what if-

His train of thought was cut by a sniff coming from Y/n, her eyes watering. His eyes opened in horror at her reaction and it made it worse knowing that he had caused it. "Fuck princess, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything-"

She pressed her lips to his, it was evident the contrast of their previous kiss. It had been passionate and desperate, filled with lust. But this one was slow and sweet, he felt how her lips formed a smile and he pulled her impossibly close, their chest pressed together.

"It is my greatest wish to spend the rest of my life with you, my love." She said sweetly, smiling up at him.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black

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conniespringerblkwife · 3 years

Text

Guess Who? (Final)

(Armin Arlert x Female Reader | NSFW)

Part 1, Part 2, Series List

A/N: This series has officially come to an end. There would be more Armin content in the future hopefully :) Also I'm currently coming up with a Jean series that will be longer than this one and the Eren one, so lookout for it!

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Cussing, Smut: Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Female receiving), Dry humping

Summary: Y/n and Armin decide to confess to each other after two weeks of not talking.

*2,283 words*

Songs I listened to while writing:

Fallin for Armin's Ocean Eyes Playlist

You stared in confusion as the words left Armin's lips. "That night at the party. I was the one you kissed and ran away." His grip on your waist tightened so you wouldn't pull away from him. When he noticed you were taking too long to answer he then continued. "I was too scared to tell you, I didn't think..." He stopped himself.

"You didn't think what?" You interrupted, your hands gripping his shoulder as lust was replaced with confusion and hurt to why he didn't tell you the truth.

"Because I didn't think you would want to be with someone like me Y/n."

You sighed, "Armin, was that the reason why you were avoiding me? and what do you mean by someone like you?"

"You already know. Your type of people laugh at me. I'm not good enough." He rubbed your sides still keeping eye contact with yours. You pursed your lips at his word.

"I'm still hurt that you didn't tell me." you removed your self from his lap and stood up. "I think I should go home." You whispered softly and then turned around and began walking in the direction of your house.

Armin could hear his heart breaking as he watched your figure get smaller. The farther away you walked the faster his heart fell. When he couldn't see your figure anymore, he laid his head in the palm of his hands. "I'm such a coward," he said to himself.

You were now in your home, eyes blurry with tears and you felt your heart in your throat. "This is all my fault." You blamed yourself for the way Armin acted. Of course he didn't want to be with you. You had bullied him so much in the past, why would he want to be with you. "Because I didn't think you would want to be with someone like me Y/n." His words echoed in your head. This was all your, fault and you had to deal with the consequences. You always thought you could get anyone you wanted, and you could. People even told you also. Boys would always throw themselves at you, and they made you feel good in that moment, but not like how Armin does.

Armin makes you feel at peace. You could be yourself around him and he wouldn't judge you. He was kind, gentle, and smart, and he also makes you laugh. You didn't have to be fake around him.

This must've been God's joke of telling you cant always get what you want.

The next few days you and Armin didn't speak. Days then turned into two weeks and you were worried. You didn't want to end things with Armin. It wasn't a big deal that Armin hid his secret from you, but to him it was.

He was embarrassed and believed you didn't want to be with the real him. He would see you in the hallways and would want to go near you, but his doubts prevented him from doing so.

He decided to stay home one day because he wasn't feeling well, but part of the reason he couldn't handle another day seeing your face.

When you didn't see him in school, you decided to ask Mikasa if he was alright and she told you Armin was sick. "You should bring him something, I think he would like that."

"Really? I don't think we're on speaking terms right now."

"Y/N I'm serious he would." MIkasa thought it was a great idea to get you two to talk because she was tired of Armin rambling about how much of a loser he was. Mikasa knew he wasn't sick he was just too much of a coward to confront you, so she decided to hurry up the avoiding process.

After school, you quickly head to your home and prepared soup. When you were finished you decided to take a shower and put on something more comfortable. You prepared soup for him and decided to drive to his house. You put in the address Mikasa had given you and drove off.

As you stood in front of the door, you felt your heart pound against your chest. you wanted to leave the soup at the door step, but you needed to talk to him. You inhaled and exhaled while closing your eyes and made the final decision to ring the door bell.

Part of you prayed that he wouldn't answer, but as you heard the approaching footsteps, you knew you weren't getting out of this.

Armin stood in front of you and you took in his appearance. He was wearing a gray shirt and black jogging pants that clung to his legs and his strands of his blonde hair covered his blue eyes that you loved.

He couldn't help but blush under your gaze and decided to break the silence,"Y/n? what are you doing here?"

"Oh...Mikasa told me you were sick and I was worried so..." You lifted the bag that carried the soup in front of you. " I decided to bring you soup."

His fingertips brushed yours lightly as he took it from you. "Oh thank you....Do you want to come in?"

You smiled, "Sure"

"The soup might be a little cold, I could warm up for you if you like." You said while following behind him. He led you to the kitchen, then placed the bag on the counter while taking out the soup.

"No it's fine thank you...Have a seat." As you took a seat, you could feel the tension between you two. You were going to address it, but you didn't know how or maybe you were just too scared. You watched as Armin licked his pink lips after taking a sip of the soup and then smiled. "It's delicious." He said and continued sipping it.

You wanted to face palm yourself for behaving like a child. You need to talk to him if you ever want to fix whatever happened between you two. The moment you were going to speak, Armin beat you to it.

"I'm not sick." He said while staring at the empty bowl. "I lied I never was sick, I was just afraid to talk to you." His eyes were now searching any emotion in your eyes.

"Armin, why would you-"

"I'm sorry y/n I want to get this off my chest because I don't want to lie to you anymore." He scooted his chair closer to you. "I'm sorry for hurting your feelings the other day. I was such a coward and wanted to avoid you because I was scared. I was scared you didn't really want to be with me. I fucked up bad because I was insecure." He sighed and grabbed your faced, staring into your eyes. "I want you so bad." He breathed out; his breath caressing your lips. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but you needed to say a few things.

"Armin I am sorry i made you feel that way. I am serious about you...You make me feel good." You didn't know tears were falling from your eyes until you felt Armin's thumbs wiped them away, also smearing them. Before you could say anything else, Armin lips were on yours.

His kiss was rough and filled with passion, unlike the last time you kissed him. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you close to his body. He wanted nothing more than to feel your body against his.

Your fingers dragged along his biceps and you gyrated against him as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt his slender hands slide to your ass and then gripping it before lifting you from your chair.

You continued to grind against his body as he carried you to his bedroom.

With each drag of your hips, Armin tried not to whimper. You two finally reached his bed and he pulled away to get a good look at your face. Your cheeks were bright and your eyes were dark with lust.

He slightly pulled at your shirt and and asked, "Can I take this off?"

You nodded as you felt his cold hands brush against your stomach, as he lifted up your shirt slowly. The farther he lifted up your shirt, he noticed that you weren't wearing a bra and almost groaned at the sight of your perky nipples.

The minute your shirt was completely removed, he attached his mouth to your right nipple. As his tongue swirled on your nipple his left hand came up to play with your other, which left your back arching.

The feeling of his strong tongue and his calloused hand had you pulling at his blonde locs and grinding against his toned stomach.

You then felt his left hand slide from your boob to your stomach. His fingers teased the band of your pants and your breath hitched. He noticed your hesitation and moved his hand slightly back up and began peppering your chest with kisses. "I'm sorry." He whispered between kisses.

You slid his cold hand back towards your crotch, "No it's fine keep going." You knew you sounded desperate, but Armin didn't mind. He loved that you wanted him and he wanted you too.

You wiggled out of your pants so he could have more room as he slid his hand inside of your panties.

His hand cuffed your pussy and you felt your thighs twitch. Armin could feel how warm and wet you were and let his middle finger swipe along your folds, grazing your clit. The slightest contact made you excited and you urged him to continue.

His index and ring finger spread your lips apart as he caressed your clit gently with his middle finger.

"Armin." You said his name in frustration because of how painfully slow he was going. "Go a little faster." He obeyed and began circling your clit at a faster pace.

You didn't notice he stopped sucking your nipple and was now laying between your thighs until you looked down. He continued working his fingers while also kissing your inner thighs.

You secretly hoped he would kiss where you most needed it.

You then smiled slightly as your prayers were answered. His tongue replaced his middle finger and began licking your clit. He lifted up your legs and rotated your hips so that you could grind against his face.

This new sensation caused you to cover your mouth, trying not to moan too loud. Pleasure tears blurred your vision as you came on his face.

Armin kissed from your stomach to your neck and you could feel the wetness on his lips.

He then removed your hand from your mouth and kissed your lips. the taste of yourself on his lips made you moan in his mouth.

You felt his boner rub against your bare pussy and you both groaned. "You're so pretty Y/n," he said while pulling his pants down. "I wanna make you feel good."

Your eyes slightly widened as his length slapped against his stomach. A blush appeared on his cheeks as you stared at it. "Don't stare." He whispered and then grabbed your face pulling you into another kiss.

You gasp as you felt his tip rub against your folds before inserting himself inside of you slowly. Each time he moved, he would watch your facial expressions to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

Of course it was hurting you, he wasn't even all the way in yet and he was close to touching your cervix, but you didn't want him to stop because you knew it would start to feel good soon.

When all of him was inside of you. You both let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

You stared into his bright eyes and you felt some sense of completeness. You felt happy, you felt no regrets. It was just you and him, no one or nothing in between. "You can move Armin." You rubbed your thumbs across his warm cheeks.

He moved at a slow paced at first, but the more confident he got, the faster he went.

His left hand was clutching the pillow next to your head, his right gripping your hip and his face in your neck as he pounded into you.

You chanted his name each time he hit your spot. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as if he was going to vanish,but that was the last thing he would do.

If there were people home, you knew they would be able to hear your moans and slapping noises coming from Armin's room.

After the last few strokes, Armin felt your warm walls clench around his dick. his moans was muffled from your neck as you felt your body shake and your pussy cream around him. He gave a few thrusts and he also began to cum.

You both gasped for air, not realizing you two been holding it in this whole time.

Armin was going to get up and get a towel but you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to your chest. "Lets just stay like this for a bit." You whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and his head laid on your chest. You felt him smile against your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer.

"Okay princess."

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Run to You Part Two

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 2494

Part One

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands.

Notes: Thank you all for the support you’ve shown for this series so far! Funnily enough, this three parter is actually similar to a Fox Mulder x Reader series I started a couple of months ago that may or may not see the light of day. I guess if you guys really like this plot and if you like The X Files, let me know if you’d be interested in that.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, stalking, kidnapping.

More Criminal Minds: HERE

Derek made a half-hour drive take twenty minutes and pulled up to the front of the school. Local police had already been called in and were bombarding you with questions. He broke through the wall of officers to get to you.

“Oh thank god,” You exclaimed and he took you in his arms without a second hesitation. “She’s gone.” You sobbed into his chest. “He took her. I know he did.”

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and tell us who you think took your daughter.” A female officer said calmly, taking another step towards you.

“Stop crowding her. Everybody back up!” Derek ordered.

“I’m sorry, sir, who are you?” Another officer asked, sounding defensive. Derek pulled out his badge.

“SSA Derek Morgan. I’m from the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“It’s a little early to call you guys in, isn’t it?” The first officer said.

“I’m not here officially. I know the missing girl.”

“Then we’re going to need to ask you a few questions.” The defensive officer snapped. You pushed in between them.

“I know who took her. Please, we have to find my baby.”

“Y/N, just take a deep breath, okay.” Derek put a hand on your shoulder and waited for you to calm down a little. “Now, what do you mean you know who took Angelica?” You tried to keep a sob from escaping, but the tears fell freely.

“Her father.” You watched Derek’s face morph with confusion. “My ex-husband.”

You sat in the police station with Derek’s hand running up and down your back as you slowly sipped a glass of water. You hardly remembered getting there or seeing members of Derek’s team arrive. Since there was already a leading suspect, the BAU wouldn’t be called in, but Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss came anyway to help Derek consult with the police.

“Ma’am, my name is Gina. I’m going to need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?” The officer from earlier started. You nodded, drinking the rest of your water.

“Um, Derek, maybe you should go talk to Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss. Ask them what they need to know from me.” You suggested. You didn’t want to have to explain everything to him like it was an interrogation. Derek nodded in understanding and gently kissed the side of your head.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He gave Gina a thankful smile and joined Hotch.

“The police said they don’t have any problems with us being here as long as we stay out of their way.” Hotch informed, casting a sympathetic look in your direction. “How is she?”

“Her little girl is missing, Hotch. She’s doing about as well as you’d expect.” Morgan sighed.

“What do we know about the suspect? She seems pretty certain that her ex is the one that took her daughter.” Prentiss asked.

“Just his name and that they used to be married. I’m gonna call and see what Garcia can dig up.” He pulled out his cell and kept his eyes on you as you spoke to the officer.

“All-knowing goddess, what can I do for you?” Penelope answered cheerfully.

“I need your help, babygirl.” He said seriously. “Y/N’s little girl is missing.”

“Oh god.” She gasped. With still so many more questions, she readied her fingers over her keyboard. “What do you need?”

“Lance Booker. Anything and everything you can find on him: properties, businesses, residences, especially places in the last six years.” He heard a flurry of typing before she answered.

“Got it. I’ll send you the list forthwith.” There was a long pause, followed by a sad gasp.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Lance Booker’s ex-wife, Y/N… your Y/N? Ugh, I hate my job sometimes.”

“Penelope!” He shouted into the receiver, his sudden outburst making Prentiss jump.

“Sorry, sorry.” Penelope fretted. “At the time of their divorce six years ago and Y/N receiving full custody of their daughter, Y/N filed a restraining order against Booker with claims of domestic violence. She’s filed multiple reports of stalking since then, but without breaking any of the terms of the restraining order, the police haven’t been able to hold him for anything.” Derek’s hand tightened around the device to the point where he heard the shell crack.

“Thanks Garcia.”

“You’re going to find her, Derek.” Penelope assured him quietly. He took a deep breath.

“I’ll keep you updated. Keep looking into this guy and anyone else who might have taken Angelica.” He snapped his phone shut and pressed it against his forehead, trying to calm himself down. He needed to be the one who held it together. He couldn’t let you see any anger or panic in him because it would just make you angry and panicked even more.

It seemed like you were finishing up with the officer so he started back in your direction. Seeing him, you stood. Judging from his expression, he knew.

“Derek, I can explain.” You wanted to reach out to him, but you kept your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if it kept you from falling to pieces. “I wanted to tell you.” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “I wanted to tell you about all of it. About Lance a-and our marriage and everything that happened, but I just didn’t know how.” His eyes softened and he ran his hands down your tense arms.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, baby.” While there were so many questions in his mind, none of them mattered. All that mattered was that you were here with him and Angelica was out there somewhere with that man.

The group fell silent as your phone started to ring. With a shaking hand, you looked down at the unfamiliar number, glancing back up at Derek for instructions. He nodded slowly while Prentiss called Garcia to get a trace on the number. You took a deep breath and answered.

“Hey baby.” The voice on the other end sent a tremor up your spine. You kept your eyes locked on Derek’s to keep from hanging up right there.

“Lance, where’s Angelica?” You tried to sound calm but you wanted to rip the bastard apart.

“You know, she doesn’t even remember me?” He hissed. “When I picked her up from school, she had no idea who I was. But I guess that’s what happens when you decide to replace me for six years.”

“Lance, please. I need to know that she’s okay.”

“Of course she’s okay. She’s got Agent Morgan protecting her, right? Oh wait, he failed at that too.” He barked furiously. Your body tensed up even more.

“How do you know about Derek?” You asked slowly. Derek’s expression didn’t change, but he felt a shot of guilt go through him. He was the trigger.

“I have ways of knowing.”

“He wants you to change the subject. Keep talking about Angelica.” Agent Hotchner instructed, keeping his voice low so the other end wouldn’t hear. You nodded in understanding.

“Lance, I need to know that Angelica is okay. I need to hear her voice.” You kept your voice as level as possible. There was a shuffle on the other end and you nearly broke down when you heard Angelica’s confused voice.

“Mommy? W-where are you? I wanna go home.”

“I’m coming, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” You cried, hearing the sound of the phone switching back.

“We’re going to be a family again.” Lance growled. “I’ll call again soon.” The line went quiet and you finally stopped holding your breath, leaning against the desk. You let the phone slip out of your hand and fall to the floor.

“Did we get a trace?” Morgan called to the agents behind him, keeping his eyes glued on you. Hotch sighed.

“Garcia said there was something interfering with the signal.”

“Lance was a phone technician, he knows how to hide.” You said blankly. “He won’t let us find him until he wants us too.”

The agents and officers around you were in a frenzy trying to dig up all of the information they could possibly find on Lance. Every time they said his name, you felt the back of his hand or the heel of his boot. For six years, you had been free of him. Angelica had been free of him. How dare he come back and ruin what you had built all on your own?

Something inside of you switched. You weren’t just frightened anymore. You were pissed off.

You didn’t move. You didn’t eat the food Derek had put in front of you. You didn’t drink the water he’d brought either. All you could do was stare at the phone, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. You hadn’t wanted to go home, but both the police and Agent Hotchner thought it would be a good idea in case Lance tried to contact you there. A team was setting up a device to hook your phone up to so they could control the line. All you could do was watch from the kitchen table, hands clasped in front of you like you were praying.

Derek watched you from the living room as his team set up the phone. He sat down on the couch, running a hand down his face. He should have asked you about Lance sooner. Maybe he could have prevented this if he only knew what had happened.

“We’re going to find her, Derek.” Prentiss said, sitting down next to him. She’d watched the way that this was tearing him apart. He didn’t respond. Both watched as the youngest of their team approached your table.

“Miss Y/L/N?” You looked up, finding the agent you could only assume was Dr. Reid. No one else was that young.

“Yes?”

“I, um, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with Morgan- I mean, Derek.” He asked to sit down and you just nodded in response. “I would like to talk to you about your ex-husband, if that’s okay?”

“I don’t know what else I can tell you.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lance was… mean. He was controlling and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he got violent. But he never hurt Angelica. Ever.” You stared at the table’s wooden surface. “I was always there to protect her.” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. Reid’s lips formed a thin line.

“What was he like before? When you first met him or when you first got married?”

“Well he wasn’t the monster he is now, I can tell you that.” You sneered. “When I met him, he was sweet. Sure, he was mysterious and attractive, so I did whatever he said, but he was romantic and- and different from the other guys I’d dated. When we got married, I thought ‘this is it’, you know? Standing in that little church, everything felt exactly like it was supposed to. But after Angelica was born, everything changed. It was like he’d been hiding this creature under his skin all those years and it was finally emerging.”

“Do you remember anything specific that might have triggered this change?”

You shook your head. “I just remember the first time it happened. There weren’t any warning signs or anything. He hadn’t been irritable or upset. He just… snapped. Angelica was in her high chair and she had thrown her bowl of food on the floor. He must have heard the sound and he came into the kitchen. When I knelt down to clean it, he grabbed my hair and pulled me up, screaming about how it was my fault. How I made a mess and that he was going to show me what happens to people who mess up his life. And then he hit me. He hit me over and over and left me on the floor to clean. I should’ve- I should have left him right there. I should have taken her and run, but I didn’t. In my head, it wasn’t his fault. It was because of his past, it was because of me. I should have run. I should have left. I should-”

“Miss Y/L/N.” Reid interrupted, allowing you to gasp for air. You must have forgotten to breathe. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was stopped by the shrill, dooming sound of the phone.

You bolted from the table and joined the agents in the living room, waiting for the signal to answer.

“Okay, you remember how it works?” Derek asked. You nodded. “Alright. Keep him talking. Don’t let him go off the subject of Angelica. You just want your daughter back. You don’t want to hurt him.” He pointed at the device and you picked up the receiver with a shaking hand.

“Hello?”

“Tell Agent Morgan he can’t replace me.”

“Lance, I’m tired. I just want Angelica back safe.”

“No, you want to play happy family with your BAU boyfriend. He isn’t her father. I am!” He spoke with the fury of a madman. Derek looked at the rest of the team grimly. Lance was spiralling.

“What do you want me to do, Lance? I’ll do anything to get her back, just please, I miss my daughter.” You cried. Derek pressed the button and muted the call.

“Y/N, you have to keep calm. I know it’s hard, but Lance is trying to push you. He wants you to break, but you can’t.” He took your hand, softening his tone. “I’m right here. You can do this.” Under Derek’s comforting voice, you could hear Lance start to ramble.

“I just want us to be happy again. Do you remember when we were happy?” You waited for Derek to press the button again before responding.

“Y-yeah, I remember.”

“We can be happy again. We can be happy again…” His voice trailed off and you heard a shuffling sound.

“Wait, don’t hang-” You exclaimed, but the line went dead. You slammed the receiver back down and kicked the coffee table it sat on. “He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill her.” You pushed a lamp over and listened to the bulb shatter against the carpet. Before you could break anything else, or hurt yourself, Derek locked his arms around you, pinning yours to your side. “Let me go! He’s going to kill her! It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!”

He kept a hold of you as you screamed, sitting down on the couch with you on his lap. The other agents just stood, watching the scene of turmoil. Reid was standing completely skill, eyes darting in between invisible words in his head. He suddenly looked at Prentiss.

“Get Garcia on the phone.” He said, turning back to you and Morgan.

“What did you get?” Prentiss asked. She was still trying to decipher everything that Booker said. Reid swallowed.

“I think I know where he might be keeping Angelica.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Series: @ weasleytommy, @ lowsodiumfreaks67, @panhoeofmanyfandoms

#derek morgan x reader #shemar moore #criminal minds #criminal minds imag #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #badass #domestic violence #kidnapping

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thestorycfus · 3 years

Text

The Sweetest Apparition - Part 3

Pairing: Peggy Carter x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and historian who specializes in the life and legacy of Captain Carter. After Nick Fury uses the Tesseract to bring Peggy back, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts the reader to help her navigate life in the XXI century.

Warnings and notes: Food, mentions of Steggy, mentions of Stucky, very small mentions of war. Other characters are also mentioned. This got way longer than the first two parts, but there’s also way more Peggy here. This series takes place after the last scene of What If… episode one, including spoilers to that episode. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 2,304

Series Masterlist

It should be a short walk to your apartment, but you made a small stop each time Captain Carter was curious about something. You also got some take out on the way, making sure to pick at least four different options from separate places and a couple of desserts too, since you didn’t know her taste yet. It was a while before you made it to your street.

During the entire time, your chatting was limited to safe topics - how loud and bright the city was, how many screens there were, the amount of coffee options that existed now. You watched Carter fall in love with her caramel coffee and made a mental note to buy her more sweets.

Soon, the Captain would also need to go shopping. Fury had gotten her the formal white blouse and the black pants she wore now, an outfit much more discreet than the uniform she was wearing when she fell, but that was her entire wardrobe at the moment. That was another mission you should handle, but it could wait until after lunch.

When you finally got home, you placed the food over a kitchen counter and gave Carter a quick tour of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough for both of you until she was more familiar with this century. The tour ended where it started: in your tiny kitchen. You pulled a stool for the Captain and presented her with the options for lunch.

“I suppose you’ve never tried some of those, so I got a few different meals. Burritos, sweet and sour chicken, calzones and Pad Thai. For dessert, there’s lemon tart and triple chocolate cake. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Peggy took a seat and examined her options. You wondered if that would be, technically her first meal since the 40’s.

“They are all tempting, but I might start with this one.” Her eyes were fixated on a burrito as if it was the Holy Grail. Yeah, that was surely the first time she ate in seventy years. She dove in, so focused on her meal that you didn’t dare to interrupt. Meanwhile, you took the other stool and picked a calzone, eating it while you watched Carter.

You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that she was really here, and it was surprising that you hadn’t completely freaked out so far, but the prospect of the rest of the day started to worry you. The Captain would certainly have a lot of questions and, if there were inquiries that Fury left for you to answer, they probably pertained more to her personal life than to great historical events.

If the registers about her were right, it wouldn’t be long before the real conversation started. Peggy Carter was too smart to have such a debate in the middle of the street, but she wasn’t known for stalling. As soon as she finished her meal, in the privacy of your (now shared) kitchen, you would have to provide about seven decades of answers.

Before you could try to prepare yourself, she was done with her second burrito. You almost suggested dessert, but the look she gave you left no room for pauses. Carter turned on her stool to face you directly, her posture becoming straighter and her eyes never leaving yours. She was the perfect image of Captain Carter, the hero, the legend who defeated all odds. Still, when she spoke, there was softness in her voice.

“The meal was lovely and so is the apartment. I can’t thank you enough for you kindness, Agent L/N, but I must ask a few things more of you. If you have studied about my life, you must know what happened to Steve Rogers after I was gone.”

You should be ready for that. Of course her first personal concern would be about Rogers. His story with Carter went down in history as a tragic tale of love, bravery and loss. To his last days, Rogers had made it his mission to honor her legacy, but that wasn’t all that he did. How do you tell a person that the love of her life went on to live a decades long, fulfilling relationship with someone else, even though, from her perspective, they were together the day before?

“Please, call me Y/N. And you can ask anything, Captain. I will tell you everything I can.” You took a deep breath, going through the words in your head in search of the best way to let her know. It was best to keep nothing out. Carter deserved that. “Steve Rogers continued to serve as the Hydra Stomper until the war had ended and all known Hydra operations had been eliminated. After that, he stepped out of the suit so that Howard Stark could continue his research with the Tesseract. I believe neither of them ever gave up on bringing you back, but, in many ways, they also moved on to build new lives.”

You made a small pause, in case she wanted to say something, but Carter only gave you a nod, encouraging you to continue. It was impossible to look away from her eyes, or to keep anything hidden when she stared at you with such intensity. Even in silence, sitting still, she emanated a power that kept you talking.

“A few years after the war, Rogers and Stark started an intelligence agency to keep the world safe from threats we could barely understand. They named it S.H.I.E.L.D., because of you. That is the agency I work for, directed by Nick Fury.” There was something poetic in the way that same agency ended up being the reason Peggy Carter was back, but it wasn’t your place to point that out. “Rogers never stopped fighting, even without the suit. He was a legendary agent, working along with James Barnes until they retired. They were also together for the rest of their lives.”

That was the piece of information you feared would break Carter’s heart, but she had a bright smile after hearing that.

“That suits them. All of them.” The joy in her voice sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Were you and Rogers… Together? It is said so in the official files, but…” In your studies, you sometimes wondered if their relationship was just a myth, maybe a publicity stunt to humanize the fallen super soldier. It was your job to question the data, but you had never paid that possibility much attention until now.

Instead of being offended by your invasion of her privacy, Carter laughed so lightly and freely that you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Oh, darling, Steve Rogers had a heart too big to have only one soul mate. He was the love of my life, yes, and I was the love of his, but not the only one. A love so beautiful and dedicated is supposed to be shared. Of course I’m sad I didn’t get to share the rest of his life with him, but I’m relieved to know that he and Bucky had each other. And that’s not to say I’m a being of such virtue that I’m above jealousy. I felt jealous of Steve alright, many times, but I could never be jealous of him with Buck. They fit well together and they were good for each other. They were real, just as Steve and I were. Steve deserved to be loved through a lifetime. I’m grateful that he was.”

Carter’s eyes shined with tears, but she didn’t allow any to fall. Maybe she would let herself grief for the lost possibilities later, but for now she was handling such an emotional journey with more elegance than you thought possible. It didn’t seem to be an act at all. On the contrary, what touched you the most was the honesty in her words. That selflessness of being genuinely happy to hear of how her soul mate lived on without her, in love with someone else, told you more about Peggy Carter than any history book ever had. And that’s how she reacted right after being thrown into the next century, coming directly from a war and landing in a world she didn’t recognize.

“I don’t think history ever made you justice, Captain. The general public thinks of you as a hero, but they’re so far from knowing the person behind the suit... You know, it’s very nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but sharing a bit of what was on your mind. To that moment, your hero was turning out to be even better than your daydreams, and it was only fair to let her know so.

At that, she gave you a big smile and your heart skipped a beat. You would have a hard time sharing an apartment with this woman.

“You are far too kind to me. To be honest, they never showed much interest on me, suit or not, until I went against official orders and started throwing tanks around and fighting the battles that needed to be fought. I am more concerned about what I am able to achieve, regardless of how they will see me. And there’s no need to call me Captain, Y/N. Heavens, we live and work together now and you’re my guide to modern life. Peggy is fine. And it’s nice to meet you too.” She took the initiative to get a slice of chocolate cake, already making herself at home. You had the feeling that her adaptation to this world wouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered. Peggy Carter would take whatever she was given and make more of it than anyone imagined possible.

“As you wish, Peggy. Speaking of that, there’s a lot I think you’ll like to see about life now. What else are you curious about?” You took your own slice of cake, trying to feel at ease in this conversation. You couldn’t be on high alert whenever Carter was around if she was going to be around all the time, but that was easier said than done. Your responsibilities here were enormous and, to be frank, you were determined to be your best self and impress her, even if just a bit. Maybe telling her about the wonders of nowadays technology would do the trick.

“I am curious about everything. I can’t wait to know all about the development of science, or what I missed in seven decades of sociopolitical turmoil, but there’s one more person I’d love to hear about before we get to that. You mentioned Howard moving on with his life, didn’t you? What exactly was that little menace up to while I was gone?”

Now, that was a rich topic of conversation.

“Well, Stark continued his research with the Tesseract and with many other projects, sometimes along with the US government, and he built a billionaire empire. Weapons, all sorts of technology, wild parties. The man had everything. He has a son, Tony, who inherited the tech, the money and the brains, but with a stronger inclination to heroism. You see, Tony Stark built himself a supersuit, partially inspired by his father’s Hydra Stomper, but with a larger variety of uses. It’s said that Steve Rogers was a sort of mentor to him, but I couldn’t get Stark to talk a lot about it when I interviewed him.”

You couldn’t tell which part made Peggy more excited. She nodded along as you listed Howard Stark’s achievements, as if it was all expected, and her eyes got wider when you told her about his son. When you mentioned Rogers, she almost jumped in her seat. She was already invested, but dropping that name sealed the deal.

“Fury gave me this.” She took two business cards out of her pocket. “It has his telephone number and Barton’s too. Could I use your telephone to call him? I would like to meet this Tony Stark, and I bet Fury would be able to reach him.”

Giving Director Fury a call from your cellphone felt strange, but how could you deny Peggy that? If the Director gave her the number, he wanted her to be able to reach him, right?

Instead of dialing yourself, you showed Carter how to use the phone. She looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she was given access to new technology. You would make sure she got a cellphone of her own soon so you could show her everything the device could do.

She called Fury and you waited as they talked for less than two minutes. Peggy handed you the phone when she was done, with a smile that said she got what she wanted.

“So, what did the Director say?” You asked, anxious to know the outcome of the call.

“We’re meeting Tony Stark tomorrow at 2pm in his tower. Was it him who named it Stark tower or is that Howard’s doing?” She narrowed her eyes a bit, still smiling.

“The tower was built by Tony, so I think we can’t blame Howard for that one.” You joked. “Are you meeting Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. before you two go to Stark’s?”

“Oh, Fury is not going. He booked the meeting for you and me, if you would like to accompany me.” Peggy sounded hesitant, as if she had just considered that you might not want to join her on that plan.

"You’re asking me if I wish to be there when Captain Carter meets Tony Stark? Please, if I didn’t get the chance to be a part of that exchange, I would beg you for a detailed retelling as soon as you got home.”

Your reply made Peggy laugh once more, and you were getting used to that sound very quickly.

#peggy carter #peggy carter x reader #peggy carter imagine #peggy carter x you #captain carter x reader #captain carter #what if #what if spoilers #marvel #peggy carter m #marvel m #m #the sweetest apparition series

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justcourttee · 3 years

Note

New idea!!! Could you write a story where Mari and Tim are full-blooded siblings except Mari was taken away from the Drakes. Mari would be Dick's age in this. The Drake's finally pass away so Bruce goes to adopt Tim but he's having trouble because Marinette is doing the same. It's a custody battle. Tim is confused because he doesn't know Mari (she was taken away before she was born and CPS wasn't dealing with that family again) but Mari knows about him. Maybe Dick/Mari?

I have a feeling I took this in a different direction than you meant for it to be, but I hope you still like it :) @elements1999

Tim’s Decision

There were two things that Timothy Jackson Drake was sure of.

One, that he had never seen Dick so flustered before in his life. The poor guy was tripping over his own feet, stumbling into the court hallway as if he had been drinking all morning, his face resembling something close to the apple Bruce forced him to eat for breakfast.

And the second, well, he was sure he had never met someone as persistently, annoyingly, upbeat as Dick Grayson until seconds ago when she reached out her hand to introduce herself.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Timothy. This isn’t my first time reaching out, but it certainly is my first time getting through. Maybe after this, we can grab a bite to eat, get to know each other?”

Tim slightly withdrew his hand, reaching out to steady a swaying Dick. He wanted to ask him what could’ve warranted this behavior from him, but he wasn’t sure he was prepared to hear the answer.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng-”

“Please, call me Marinette! I’m not married, nor am I a middle-aged woman. I’m only 21 after all. You’re 14, right Timothy?”

“If I call you by your name, call me Tim. Timothy sounds like a rich brat.”

Marinette’s giggle earned a small smile from the boy. He had no idea who she was, but her presence was soothing and he didn’t feel any immediate danger. Besides, she wasn’t the first person to approach him in the past week. News of his parent’s death traveled very quickly and many people attempted to adopt him in hopes that his fortune would be theirs.

Bruce was quick to wave them off, offering to adopt Tim himself, but before Tim could even think about accepting, CPS contacted Bruce with the proposal from one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I hadn’t realized that Bruce Wayne had caught your attention. I really want to make sure that you are able to have a regular childhood or at least some resemblance of a few normal years. If you think Bruce is a better option for you, I promise I’ll pull out right now, but if you have any doubts at all, I want to let you know that I want to fight for you, Tim.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet and considering Bruce let me meet with you, I have to assume you’re not after my parent’s fortune.”

Marinette’s smile tightened at the mention of the fortune or was it his parents? He couldn’t tell. She was definitely holding something back, but they had just met and he wasn’t in any position to be pressuring her for some answers. What he was in the position to do was knock some sense into a now drooling Dick Grayson.

“Knock it off will you, you’re heavy and gross. You’re making a fool of the Wayne name and aren’t you supposed to be my guardian today?”

Dick muttered out something that sounded like an okay, but if Tim was honest, he wasn’t sure it was anything more than a few syllables to lower his guard.

“This is what Bruce considers a capable guardian? I’m not sure I trust him as far as I could throw him. What can it do?”

Marinette reached forward, poking Dick’s cheek, enough force to snap him out of whatever daze he had been in the past hour.

“Dick Grayson-Wayne ma’am, a pleasure to meet you.” Instantly he bowed, his hand extended as if he were waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

“Mhmm, so you are Bruce’s ward? You look like you could be his blood child. Does he have a thing for dark hair and light eyes? Creepy.”

Dick’s hand clutched his chest as if he had been struck directly in his core. Marinette turned her attention from him and back to where Tim stood.

“Anyways, I believe we mentioned lunch earlier. I’ve already submitted my application to CPS and after this formal meeting, you’re free to meet up with me whenever you would like as long as a third party comes with us. Can you think of anyone you want to come with us?”

Tim glanced to the side where he could feel Dick’s puppy eyes boring into him. He wouldn’t be his first choice but if it came down to him of Jaime, he was pretty sure he had a better chance of reigning in Dick.

“Do you mind if Dick comes with us?”

Marinette’s smile was shaken with uncertainty as if she was thinking of protesting but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Tim felt terrible putting her in the position but he was sure that Dick was her best chance given his options. “Of course not, where would you like to go?”

The lunch moved smoothly with Tim learning so much about her. She was originally from the Gotham foster system herself, but a young couple who couldn’t have kids adopted her at a younger age, moving her to Paris with them. She attended the equivalent of middle and high school over there where she met many lifelong friends. Starting late in her middle school years, she upstarted a fashion business where she had several big-name clients months into her start-up. Now she made personal designs, but many were taken care of by her team. She only stitched a very few commissions for close personal friends.

She was remarkable, someone who truly started from nothing. His parents did something similar as did Bruce’s. It was something he wanted for himself, something he wasn’t sure he could ever achieve with either his or Bruce’s fortune.

The custody battle was put on hold at Tim’s request. He was really intrigued by Marinette and Bruce pressuring him to take his time and really think over his choices finally led him to that decision. However, no matter how much Bruce tried to be a neutral party in the matter, Tim could feel the strain it put on their work relationship.

The more he saw Marinette, the more mess-ups occurred on patrol. Bruce would constantly tread into Tim’s area, always dropping in on his battles. It was as if he lost all trust in Tim as if he was trying to rely less on him, trying to go back to doing things on his own.

It was so frustrating. No matter how many times he told Bruce that he could still be Robin no matter who he chose, it seemed to mean nothing to him. He continually waved him off, claiming to have no idea what he was talking about.

A month after he met Marinette, Tim snuck out for the first time, begging her to meet him at a coffee shop near her hotel.

“Tim, this is dangerous. If CPS finds out we meet behind Bruce’s back, it could nullify my application.”

“I know, I know.” His head dropped to the table, buried in his arms trying to suffocate his frustration. “I just needed to get away from all of them. I think the fact that I consider you a serious option really upsets Bruce. It’s not that I don’t consider him a serious option as well, it’s just-he’s just-”

Tim let out a sigh, slowly sitting back up unsure where his thoughts were taking him.

“Tim,” Marinette reached across the table, laying her hand on his arm. “if this is too stressful for you, I can pull out of this.”

Her touch was so gentle, so soothing. It felt like the mother he never had, the kind of mother he yearned for but never realized. He really didn’t want her to leave his life just because he couldn’t give up being Robin.

“I just feel so selfish,” his vision started to blur, Marinette’s figure coming in and out of focus. “I want to keep the life I’ve made for myself here, but I also don’t feel like I can grow the way I want to under Bruce’s supervision.”

Marinette didn’t say anything for a moment, she just allowed him to cry, her thumb moving in small circles on his arm. Tim reveled in the feeling, reveled in the silence. He hadn’t had this in a while, he hadn’t had comfort for as long as he could remember. Even at his parent’s funeral, people just commented on how strong he was and how smart he was and told him he would be just fine. Not once did anyone try to hug him or ask if he was okay. They just assumed.

Everyone always just assumed.

“Tim, I haven’t been 100% honest with you since I met you. I didn’t want it to mess with your decision, but I think it’s time you knew.”

“I already know.” Tim moved his arms from her touch, his heart throbbing from the loss of touch. “I did my research on you, especially considering how Bruce let me meet you so quickly. You’ve done a lot of work to bury it, but the Will mentioned you, or at least your old name.”

Marinette’s smile was tight, her eyes as watery as his.

“Is that what’s holding you back from making the decision you want to make?”

Tim wanted to deny that he had no clear choice, but that was a lie he had been feeding himself. He wanted to stay with Bruce, in Gotham. His life was here, his friends were here, his passions were here. The only thing that wasn’t, was her.

“I want Bruce to be my official guardian. I want to be Tim Drake-Wayne.” Marinette nodded, understanding pouring from her and crashing into him. He felt like all the stress from the past month had been pushed out and replaced with relief. “But I really did want to get to know you, I didn’t want to make a decision because you would be out of my life for good. I’ve already lost you once, CPS took you didn’t they?”

“Right before mom became pregnant with you. I’m sure it happened to you too, but I was only six. They left me alone, not even a butler or maid to watch after me. They tried to argue with CPS that I was a competent child who could handle groceries and looking after myself but they didn’t buy it. My existence hadn’t even been released to the public so they didn’t take it too hard, losing me that is. But you, they immediately brought you into the limelight, almost like a challenge to CPS, I’m assuming that’s why they didn’t get involved for you no matter how many times my parent’s called and reported them.”

Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out. It seemed to have shocked Marinette too as she gave way to her own giggle threatening to spill.

“Marinette, can I ask you something selfish?”

“Of course, mon frère.” Her hand reached back across the table, gripping his tightly as if pressing him to ask the question he dreaded most.

“Will you still be apart of my life? I’m not asking you to move to Gotham, but maybe a monthly trip? A weekly dinner? Something? I just don’t want to lose you again.”

The tears that had been pooling in her eyes finally slipped free, her smile blinding.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Bruce, Marinette is coming over for game night tonight!”

“Marinette?” Dick’s head popped around the corner, the red plastered by the mere mention of her name. It sickened Tim. “But I have patrol tonight! Bruce can’t the police do their jobs for one night!”

Bruce chuckled as he set up the table, a stack of every board game imaginable piled in the middle.

“I suppose you can push it back from 11 to 5 to 2 to 5. After all, I’m not heartless.”

Tim let out an involuntary groan as he slipped into the couch, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“Whose side are you on here Bruce? She’s already your honorable daughter. Do you really need her to be part of your legal family that bad?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.” His smirk only made Tim want to fold in on himself even more.

“Bruce, if you’re gonna set me up, can it at least be with Tim’s more attractive siblings? Like what about that Jason guy? Or Barbara Gordan?” Tim popped up in his seat, a smile beaming from ear to ear.

“Marinette’s here!” He waved her over to the seat beside him before a certain older lovebird could intervene.

“I am attractive! Why won’t you accept me Marinette?” Dick wiped away fake tears as he fell dramatically to the floor by her feet.

Tim could feel his heart overflowing for the first time in years. His life felt so fulfilled, like all of the missing pieces finally found a place. As the night continued on, only one thought stayed prominent in his mind.

He couldn’t be happier with his decision.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289 @redbullgivescaswings @icerosecrystal

#maribat #timinette siblings #dickinette

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining! warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.”

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection.

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event.

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program.

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life.

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept.

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.

---

“What a wedding, huh?”

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school.

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow.

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further.

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.”

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song.

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday.

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting.

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster.

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system.

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple.

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one.

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air.

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony.

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness.

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you.

“Long day?”

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was.

“Tetsurō?!”

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush.

Not that he had any idea about that last item.

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.”

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding?

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say.

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association.

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him.

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them.

“That better?”

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.”

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours.

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.”

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?”

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky.

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar.

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss.

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement.

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.”

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace.

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.”

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world.

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu one shot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

(Clone Wars) ARC Trooper Echo x Reader: Sightseeing PART 2

(Requested by the amazing @nahoney22

I hope you likez!!!!

Warnings: some kissy kissy

Word Count: 2,146)

Link to Part 1

You wrenched the final bolt in, teeth clenched with the effort. Despite the quick thrum of your heart at the set of boots that were visible from beneath the ship, you kept your focus on the work in front of you. Finally, the bolt would not screw in any father, and you set the wrench down with a loud clang.

Swiping the back of your hand across your forehead, you sighed and began to climb out from under the vehicle. The bright lights of the hangar made you squint, though a silhouette stepped into view. Those boots you saw before were a few feet from your head.

The man knelt down, extending his gloved hand in your direction. You smiled as you took it, and he hauled you to your feet in an effortless motion. Suddenly, you felt a little self-conscious in your dirtied jumpsuit with grease smeared on your skin. You avoided his gaze as you brushed off what you could from your jumpsuit.

“All done?” Echo finally spoke, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You finally met his eyes. It was hard to feel self-conscious when he was looking at you with tender adoration. One would think you were wearing the most elegant gown with the way his eyes glinted.

“All done,” you said. “Thank you for waiting. You didn’t have to, you know. You could’ve gone ahead to see the town.”

Echo shrugged his armored shoulders. It was so casual, like it was no big deal that he stood in the hangar for forty-five minutes waiting for your shift to end. He didn’t have a whole lot of time off as an ARC trooper, and you didn’t want him to miss out because of you. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

A smile crept onto your features. There were times when he couldn’t formulate a sentence in front of you, and other times when he could be so smooth and so sweet. You knew it came from a genuine place and not from someone looking to score a date. Besides, it had been several months since your meeting, and he still hadn’t officially asked you out. It became a tradition for the two of you to go sightseeing on the planets you came across, but nothing had been said about them being dates.

Fives complained about it often enough.

“I need about ten minutes to shower,” you said.

Echo nodded. “I’ll be waiting...if you still want to go with me.”

“Of course I do. I just feel bad you’ve been waiting so long.”

“Like I said, it just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Alright, well I’ll be back in a few.”

Fifteen or so minutes later, you found Echo waiting patiently as ever near the exit. You caught up with him, feeling much better about your appearance. He simply smiled when he saw you.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said. The two of you were able to take a military transport into town. It was a short ride, and the transport was filled with your chatter as you shared information about the planet. Echo had used his waiting time wisely to read up on some of the cuisine. He listed off some interesting restaurant ideas, making both of your mouths water. Apparently a festival was going on, so there would be lots of things to see,

When you stepped off the transport, Echo extended his arm slightly towards you so that you could loop your arm through it. No doubt the two of you looked like a couple, which was why you waited until getting into town to make such contact.

Your faced warmed as you observed his profile for a moment. His eyes were wide and fascinated as he glanced around the ongoing festival. Citizens wore colorful outfits and masks, bustling here and there. Cheerful music played by musicians with stringed instruments filled the air. Many delicious smells teased your senses. A loud growl from your stomach made Echo’s gaze snap back to you.

“Hungry?” he asked, amused.

“I haven’t eaten since before my shift,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

“Well, we’ll be sure to get something right away then.” He nodded in the direction of the nearest stand. “Let’s go.”

Several happy citizens were leaving the stand with food in hand, smiling and talking amongst themselves. You caught a whiff of one of the dishes. “Ooh, we should get that,” you told Echo. He followed your gaze and nodded.

“Mm, that does look good.”

Suddenly, you felt a rough hand grab your shoulder and give you a little shake. Your heart quickened at the potential danger, but as you turned your head, you saw a gloved hand on Echo’s shoulder too.

“There you are!” Fives exclaimed, giving you and Echo another affectionate shake. You exhaled at the realization it was just your friend. “I was wondering when you two lovebirds would venture out!”

Your poor companion’s words caught in his throat. “We’re not- I mean…” Echo stole a glance at you, flustered. Finally, he seemed to gather some resolve as he raised a brow. “No offense, but it’s none of your business.”

“Oh-ho-ho.” Fives chuckled, giving his brother a playful nudge. “I’m just teasing. No harm done.”

Echo rolled his eyes, nudging him back. “I’m sure.”

You smiled at the brothers’ banter. It was almost always like that when they hung out, which was all the time. Fives had also become a good friend of yours as you got to know Echo better. The three of you would often eat together at the mess hall or cause trouble at whatever places you found yourselves at on these new planets.

“Next!” the lady at the stand called. She wore a bright red costume with the sleeves rolled up as she put away the money from previous customers and closed the box. Only her smiling eyes could be seen behind the matching mask. “Troops! We appreciate the protection the Republic has provided our planet. What can I get you?”

“We’d like two of those,” Echo ordered, pointing at the menu item that you had mentioned earlier.

“Make that three,” Fives interjected.

“Okay, three of those. And could we also get two cups of tea. Fives, you want one too?”

“Count me in.”

Echo nodded and turned back to the lady. “Sorry, three cups of tea. And that’ll do it.”

She nodded and began adding up the cost. Echo handed over the credits, and you pitched in to tip the woman. She uttered her thanks, and the cook behind her started serving up the order.

“These are our special desserts that are only made during this festival,” she said, packaging up three little cakes. “You must try some!”

Echo reached back into his pouch for more credits. “How much?”

“On the house!” she said. “I insist! Enjoy the festival!”

“Oh, thank you!” you accepted the packages, and Fives and Echo grabbed the food and teas. The three of you headed over to one of the empty picnic tables and claimed your meals. You sipped the cold cup of tea, smiling at the mildly sweet flavor and how refreshing it was.

Fives had already dug into his food. “This is great!” he mumbled through a mouthful.

“Yeah?” Echo took a bite of his own. “Wow, you’re right.”

Another loud growl sounded in your stomach, making Fives laugh and earning him an elbow in the side from Echo, as you finally tried your portion of the meal. It did taste good, and it was very filling, though you had just enough room to have the dessert after.

When you were done, you started cleaning up the picnic table and dropped the garbage into a nearby trash can. On your way over, you overheard a conversation between the two ARC troopers. They were trying to speak over the volume of the festival and remain out of earshot of you- to no avail.

“So, Echo,” Fives said. “You know you don’t have to do the whole ‘secret relationship’ thing in front of me, right? Of all people, I’m not gonna’ say anything.”

“There is no secret relationship,” Echo muttered. “I was serious before. We’re not together.”

“Oh my gosh.” Fives shook his head. “Well, you’d better hurry up and claim her. Or someone else will. I’m telling you, she likes you.”

“Shh, she’s coming back.

You smiled, pretending you didn’t hear a word over your shoulder. “What is next on the agenda?”

“I’m actually going to go off on my own again,” Fives answered. “You two have fun.” Before either of you could even say “goodbye” for now, he left. You looked to Echo, shrugging, and looped your arm with his again.

The two of you did an initial sweep of the festival, checking out the games and activities as well as taking notes on any that you’d like to try as the evening went on. There was something different about this outing. You’d been to many places with Echo before, but this time, it seemed he was being a little more forward. In a good way, of course. You figured it was because of his conversation with Fives, but even so, you had not expected him to be as confident as he was. At one point, he removed his arm from yours and took your hand instead, shooting you an inquisitive look.

You nodded in silent approval of the gesture, giving his gloved hand a squeeze. The smile on his face was so handsome. It was nearly impossible to look away. Pretty soon, the two of you were stopped in the middle of the festival with folks going around you. He gazed back into your eyes, the smile slowly fading into an expression you’d never seen on him before. Excitement coursed through your veins as he suddenly gave your hand a tug, leading you through the swarm of people until the two of you were in a small alley between two of the town’s shops. It gave you a nice view of the festival from where you stood without being crowded out by other people.

“What’s this about?” you asked, though you had a feeling you already knew. Echo leaned his shoulder against the wall, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.

“I wanted to play it cool,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’ve been playing it too cool.” His eyes met yours again, and you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell with a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself for something daring. “The truth is... I really like you. I have since the moment I first saw you.”

“Nothing wrong with taking your time,” you replied. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too,” he agreed, your response visibly putting him at ease. The smile returned to his face. “I don’t consider any of the time we’ve spent wasted. And if you’d rather we stay friends, I can do that. I just...wanted you to know. I care about you.”

Your insides were practically melting at his words, though your heart was thudding fast and strong. From the start, it was like gravity had been bringing you closer together. You revolved around each other; not quite touching, but never too far.

Suddenly, gravity brought you even closer. You took a step forward. He pushed off the wall slightly to meet you halfway, releasing your hand only to wrap his arms around you in a firm embrace.

“I care about you too,” you told him softly. He regarded your misty gaze with another one of his smiles before his eyes fell on your lips with intent. Echo, ever the chivalrous, shifted so that his back was to the crowd. Once you were concealed from any curious stares of those passing the alley, his lips caught yours.

The kiss was planet-shattering. It held all the tenderness you would’ve expected at first, and then slowly built up with tension the two of you had been keeping tucked away for some time. Something snapped, then. Your lips were meeting his faster, needier; and he was happy to oblige.

Both of you were unwilling to part, but the sounds of the festival brought you back. Echo was still tilting your chin as he pulled away to see your loving gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

“You sure are,” you said with a chuckle.

He chuckled too with the slightest shake of his head in amusement. “And she has a sense of humor. How’d I get so lucky?”

You pretended to consider his question for a moment, your face scrunching up in thought. “It sure is a mystery,” you joked lightly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. He caught your lips one more time before you pulled away completely, and you nearly swooned.

#arc trooper echo #echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #clone wars reader insert #the clone wars x reader #clone wars echo x reader #echo x you #echo x y/n #clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars reader insert #star wars the clone wars reader insert

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU Prompt for Wangxian, if you like?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

---

When Wei Ying woke up, he had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the bright glare of the lights overhead, momentarily blinding him. Something was weird. This definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, whose lighting was rather dim and most definitely off when he was sleeping.

He blinked a few times more and then turned his head to examine the room he was in.

It took him far too long to understand what he was seeing, but once his brain actually started processing it, there was no doubt. He was in a hospital room, complete with barren walls and the strong smell of disinfectant. But he had no memory that could explain why he would be waking up in a hospital bed. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d woken up here, or even what day of the week it was.

Impatient to have his questions answered, he tried to wriggle around and slip out of bed, but his body felt oppressively heavy, and his vision started to swim as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow.

Exhausted and distressed, he fell back into bed. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he feeling so terrible?

Just that moment, the door of the hospital room opened, and a nurse stepped in.

“Oh, you are awake,” she said. “Good.”

She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

(When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

(Who was going to count.)

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs headcanons #well not really #sweat #enter21

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doyumacy · 3 years

Text

FALLOUT |LH| ONE

*gif not mine

TWO

SUMMARY: You, at such young age made your way in business becoming a successful one. With that a lot of jealousy and rivalry came. Your mother finally convinces you to hire a team of security just in case someone tried to hurt you. And that’s when Donghyuck becomes your personal bodyguard, following you everywhere you go. You don’t mind at all since you find him very entertaining and nice. What you don’t know is that he’s the one that has been hired to keep you close and kill you.

PAIRING: reader x bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin and taeyong. swearing, blood (i’ll let you know when there are parts with blood mentions), smut, violence, angst

WORD COUNT: 2,8K

7 am. Wake up, take a shower, have breakfast and rush to the office. That was your daily routine and you were used to it. But no that morning. You were getting ready to go to your interview with the TIME Magazine. They were working on an article that would be called “Women Under 30 Are Leading the Pack in Entrepreneurship and Innovation.”

4 years ago, you’d wake up around 9, get ready to go to class and have lunch with your friends, but how does time change, right? Now you were a CEO of your own company with no time for your friends or even yourself. It’s not like you hated it, you liked being a CEO and being recognised by your hard work. It made you proud and wanted to show people that if you really want something and if you work hard for it, you’ll get it.

At the main entrance, you were greeted by the staff and one of them guided you to the room where they interviewed you and took some pictures of you.

That wasn’t your first interview, but you couldn’t feel nervous because you wanted to say the right words to encourage other people.

...

“Lia, I will be back in ten minutes. Can you sort this papers out on my desk?“

“Okay, Boss.”

It was a beautiful sunny day and the office was busy as usual. You were reading the contract at the table trying to get some order into them when the door opened. Nobody just walked into your office without knocking, so of course it had to be…

“Hi mom...” you greeted her.

“Hi sweetheart,” she smirked at you. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” you nodded and placed the papers on the table, “what brings you here, mom?”

“I can’t visit my beautiful daughter?” She put her right hand on her chest.

You giggled. “Of course you can, but I’d love you to call me first.”

You stood and walked towards her, hugging her. “You want some coffee? Water?”

“I’m fine, darling. I just had brunch with a friend,” she smiled and sat in one of the chairs in front of your desk. “Speaking of which, she told me something that got me really upset at you.”

“Why?” You frowned and sat in front of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re getting death threats, (Y/N)?” She looked at you.

You sighed. “Because they don’t matter. You know I don’t pay attention to that. It’s pointless.”

“We’re not talking about hate comments, (Y/N). Someone is threatening you with killing you.”

“Mom, you don’t have to w-“

“Of course I can, and I will. That’s why I contacted an old friend who used to be the Prime Minister’s bodyguard. He’s gonna meet you tomorrow,” she informed you.

“Tomorrow I can’t, I have a meeting.”

“Then you better make some space or you’ll be seeing me here everyday,” your mom smiled. “This is serious. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re my baby.”

“I can take care of myself, mom. Please, I don’t want a full team of bodyguards,” you sighed.

“You will only have 2 and you won’t even notice they’re there,” she said and placed a hand on yours. “Please.”

You stared at her for a couple of seconds and then sighed, nodding. “Okay, fine. But it’s temporary.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Later that day, after going home you went to the supermarket to get some groceries and went home. You loved cooking, but you weren’t exactly the tidiest when it came to prepare your delicious meals.

After you ate, you checked your email and realised that your mom’s friend had sent you a file with the two people that would be working with you. Somehow you expected an army of people and that annoyed you, but you thought you could with two people. You didn’t even bother to check the profiles since you knew what their work would be.

You closed your laptop and went to your bedroom. Sometimes you thought your life was boring because you barely talked to someone else. Your last relationship didn’t end well and you were still a little bit hesitant to know someone else. Or scared.

And friends? You didn’t have many, but Lena, Taeyong and Jaemin were always there for you. And so were you.

You knew Lena since you were a toddler, your mother was good friends with her parents and you two got along very well. You met Taeyong in high school when you were trying to find the science room and since he was a senior, he helped you. Everyone used to think Taeyong and you dated, but in fact, you never loved Taeyong that way. You saw him as your older brother and he as his younger sister. And last but not least, you met Jaemin through Taeyong.

At first both of you didn’t get along well since he was all an extrovert and didn’t quite understand you were a little introverted, but he with time understood and stopped forcing you. Then you became the crackheads of the group, always laughing and going out and sometimes getting drunk.

You loved college days.

And love? You met Jaehyun during your first year of college, he was in your economics class and you couldn’t help yourself falling for him. He was charming, funny and so handsome.

Jaehyun was your first everything: your first love, your first boyfriend, your first kiss and the first guy that broke your heart.

You two dated for almost 2 years, but ended when he told you he didn’t love you anymore and didn’t want to hurt you and left.

Months after that, you took the opportunity to go as an exchange student to Japan where you met Yuta. You were never a thing, but both of you had feelings for each other but never went official since you would stay there only for 6 months.

You came back to Korea and graduated, and had no time for love since you were too busy starting your business. But Yuta would come on business trips to Korea sometimes and meet you.

But the last time you saw him was a year ago.

The next morning, a tall man showed up to your office holding a black folder. Everything about him was intimidating and you knew he was your mom’s friend.

“Good morning, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m Kim Hyunwoo,” he extended his hand.

“Hi,” you greeted and you shook hands with him. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Please sit.”

“Thanks,” he said and sat in one of the black chairs in front of your desk. “I sent you an email yesterday, did you read it?”

“I saw it, but didn’t read it. Sorry,” you apologised.

“It’s okay, that's why I brought this,” he placed the black folder on the desk and tossed it to you. “These are the files of the people that will be working with you.”

“Why is it important to check them out? I mean, they’ll be around me 24/7.”

“Because I want you to know their abilities and their tasks.”

You sighed and grabbed the folder opening it. You saw the first man around his 30’s, no emotions showed in his face. Kang Sungho. According to his file he was specialised in driving and trained in evasive driving techniques, such as executing short-radius turns to change the direction of the vehicle, high-speed cornering, and so on.

You passed the next page and saw a picture of a man with tanned golden skin, brown hair and dark eyes. He looked intimidating. He was trained in pretty much everything, from every type of knife to every type of gun.

Impressive.

Suddenly, the door from your office opened and the air left your lungs momentarily when his eyes met yours, dark and calculating. You expected him to offer you a polite smile as most people do, but his face remained in a stern mask. You somehow prayed he wouldn’t be your bodyguard because the less thing you needed was a distraction.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” the voice of your Hyunwoo forced you to switch your gaze to him and you shoot him a questioning look. “This is Lee Donghyuck” the boy nodded slightly in your direction at the mention of his name, “he’s your new personal bodyguard.”

You couldn't help but let your eyebrows raise comically. The world somehow hated you.

“You would not even know I’m here, Miss,” Donghyuck said.

You nodded.

Donghyuck awoke to the steady patter of rain upon his window, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of the rising sun. He realised he had awoken up ten minutes before his set alarm, which made him grumble.

He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, took a cold shower and after that, Donghyuck put on a black pants and before putting the white shirt, he put on a bulletproof vest making him look thicker and then continued with a white interior t-shirt, a white shirt, put on his tie adjusting it and lastly, he slipped on the black jacket.

Donghyuck gave himself a quick look in the mirror and sighed. He placed his hands on the countertop and asked how did he end in that position?

Yes, he was an assassin.

No, he didn't kill women.

But the money he was offered to do so was such a big amount that was almost repulsive. And he needed the money.

Donghyuck had never pretended to be someone else before, he just showed up and took down his task and then left. Now he was stuck with some random woman and follow her until she was in love with him and kill her in the worst way.

What was with people these days? He didn't want to know.

Jeno was already awake and had made breakfast, “you gotta eat well today in case you die protecting your boss,“ he joked and sat down in front of him.

Donghyuck and Jeno had known each other for many years and were roommates. There was kindness in his smile, a good man. He knew what ‘Haechan’ did for a living, but decided to ignore it since he rather thought his friend was also a good man.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “I cant believe I'm doing this.”

“You can't still say no, you know?” Jeno looked at him.

“I know, but I need the money,” Donghyuck said and had a sip of coffee, “I will retire after this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don't wanna do this anymore,” Donghyuck shrugged.

“Well, then get the job done and get those millions,” Jeno said and then shook his head, “that sounded awful. Ignore it.”

Donghyuck laughed. “Are you sure you don't wanna work with me?”

“One hundred percent.”

…

A perfectly collected black-haired woman, dressed in a skirt under her white knee and a pale pink blouse appeared in the room. "Good morning, you must be Lee Donghyuck, right?" She asked kindly.

"Yes," Donghyuck replied, "Hello, you are....?"

"I'm Yun Somin, Kim Hyunwoo personal assistant," she smiled nicely. “You’re the new bodyguard we hired a few days ago.”

"Nice to meet you,” Donghyuck expressed.

“Please, come with me so I can give you your equipment,“ Somin said.

Donghyuck followed her to a room that was an office painted beige and champagne, and it had only one wall-sized window, which faced the buildings. On the dark brown desk sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a turtle-shaped paperweight and there was a swivel chair in the middle of the office. A bookshelf, bursting with books was behind the dark brown desk.

Somin opened a desk drawer and pulled out a black box that contained a small stainless steel knife, a Beretta Px4 Storm and finally a earphone for a walkie-talkie.

Donghyuck put the earphone on his ear and the walkie-talkie on the waist band. He put the gun away by placing it on the waist band as well and the knife inside the inner jacket pocket.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s codename is Sunflower. Whenever you’re public, that’s the name you’ll use,“ Somin informed.

Donghyuck nodded, “Sunflower. Got it.“

Somin opened the door for him and let him in. You were if anything was better looking than Donghyuck expected. Your face told of a leaned body beneath your wintry garb and your expression was serious but not unkind.

You were hot.

Fuck. Donghyuck thought. He was so screwed.

“You would not even know I’m here, Miss,” Donghyuck said.

You nodded and cleared your throat. “Well, let's keep going. We have a long day coming,“You said, walking to the door.

Donghyuck walked behind you and raised his arm above his mouth and spoke into the mic, “Sunflower's going out.“

…

You were the smile, or at least that was what Donghyuck thought of you. Everything about you was a soft and understated joy as you greeted each person at every event. You really cared about the people and their interest and could see in your eyes your uprightness. People loved you and Donghyuck didn't quite understand why someone wanted you dead. Your kindness couldnt be the reason, could it?

“So, Donghyuck, what do you think?”

He turned back to Sungho. “She's different from every shark out there. Yeah, I’ll bet they’re lining up to off her.”

“Well, someone’s been sending some pretty disturbing emails. The NIS can’t pin the guy down.”

“They’ll find them.“ Donghyuck addressed.

The eventful day was over. You all spent the day going to different meetings with several people. You were exhausted but you were happy to see your friend Taeyong, after not seeing him for almost two months.

The black car stopped at a red light and you took the opportunity to take out your phone and reply to some text messages. You realised Donghyuck was looking at you and Donghyuck quickly looked straight ahead. “So, Donghyuck? You have been doing this for so long?”

“Not really, ma’am,“ he responded.

You considered him. He didn’t look like his concept of a bodyguard, big and beefy. He wasn't that tall. Slimy built, with a very attractive face, enigmatic yet intelligent dark eyes and dark hair. “And what did you do before?”

“I… used to train some people at a boxing gym,“ Donghycuk lied.

“Cool,” you smiled. “Maybe you could show me some movements.”

You quickly regretted saying that because of how red your cheeks got. Donghyuck smirked without looking at you.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Donghyuck got out of the car and opened the door for you and you entered the restaurant with him following you.

"Sunflower's in," He spoke into the mic.

A young woman, with loose hair dressed all in black, took you to the restaurant's private lounge, where Taeyong was already waiting for you.

You hugged your friend and smiled, "The Bahamas suited you."

"Thank you, Woman-Under-30-Leading-the-Pack-in-Entrepreneurship-and-Innovation" Taeyong beamed and looked at Donghyuck, who stood with his back to you right at the glass door, "who is he?"

You looked at Donghyuck and spoke as you sat down, "It's my personal bodyguard."

“Why do you have a personal bodyguard? Did something happen? ” He asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, everything’s fine," you calmed him down and grabbed the menu, opening it.

He sat in front of you and still looked worried, “how do you want me to be calm? Something is going on and you don't want to tell me. "

You smirked a little and shook your head, "really, Taeyong, everything is under control. There’s nothing to be concerned about.“

Taeyong sighed and nodded, "Okay, I will believe in your words."

You smiled satisfied and began to read the menu. Taeyong did the same. Jaemin stood in front of the door of the restaurant's private lounge but Donghyuck prevented him from entering.

"Identify," Donghyuck demanded, looking at him.

"Na Jaemin, owner and chef of this restaurant," he replied, frowning, "who are you?"

Before Donghyuck responded, you opened the door and looked at Jaemin, “I'm sorry, he's my new bodyguard. Lee Donghyuck, all right, he will have dinner with us too. "

Donghyuck nodded, “understood. Enjoy your meal, guys. "

“Thank you,“ Taeyong responded as Donghyuck closed the door.

“I can't believe the two most influential people of Korea are here in my restaurant,“ Jaemin joked as he sat.

You chuckled, “let’s see if it’s as good as people say.“

…

Softly splashing water droplets hit the car windows as Sungho drove onwards. You watched the raindrops race down to the windows. You had been with Taeyong and Jaemin for almost three hours, and now you were on your way to your house.

"Sorry for staying there for a long time, you haven't even eaten," you apologised.

“It’s fine, ma’am. It's our job,“ Donghyuck replied.

“You can call me (Y/N). We’re almost the same age,“ You said

“Even so, you’re my boss. It’s not right,“ he responded.

You chuckled and looked at him in the rearview mirror, "Well, then as your boss, I order it to you."

Donghyuck smiled and you noticed it, “I'll try it.“

#haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan smut #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct smut #donghyuck smut

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choosing-criminalminds · 3 years

Text

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.”

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

#spenciebabiesficcontest #joy's writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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ahgaseda · 4 years

Text

aura | three

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Every step down the path was slowed by dread and anxiety. The auditorium sat on a small hill, looming over the rest of the camp, and the sight made your stomach turn each time you laid eyes on it.

Such an unassuming building and yet it still shot nerves through you.

Entering through the double doors, you were blasted by air conditioning, which was a bit excessive with the crisp morning air. You simpered when you made eye contact with a few of the other campers. It was a small group, as to be expected for these little sessions.

Then, your gaze shifted to the wall where Jaebeom was leaning back and had just looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, wanting to march right back out. Fate was such a cruel bitch.

Jaebeom cocked his head at your reaction, following you with his eyes, and asked sweetly, “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” you replied, curt, avoiding his stare.

Jaebeom shifted closer and whispered, “Did you think of me last night?”

If only you knew how you had filled his thoughts and dreams. Those kisses in the pool still made his heart race.

Smirking with a chance to torment him, you retorted, “Not even once. My mind is full of Jackson and how good his head looked between my thighs.”

Jaebeom frowned, the blood draining from his face. Hearing about your escapades with Jackson made him insane, like being dragged through pieces of broken glass.

“That bastard,” Jaebeom huffed under his breath.

Your arrogance faded and you turned somber. Part of you realized that you were giving yourself away to spite him. It was like trying to heal a burn by directly applying more fire.

Doctor Ambrose stepped inside, greeting everyone with her signature smile. “Good morning. Are we ready to begin?”

No one was. Not one of these poor souls wanted to discuss their daddy or mommy issues in group form. But it was mandated by the camp and having been attending for many years, you were accustomed to dodging.

You and the others followed Doctor Ambrose into the main auditorium, approaching a ring of folding chairs waiting on the stage. You swallowed the lump in your throat and avoided a look at Jaebeom as you took a seat.

This was the room where it happened - where you surrendered your virtuous flower. Blah, blah, blah, you thought to yourself. Eventually, you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you were less bitter about losing your virginity and more broken at having lost your heart.

The theater was the one place no one bothered to lock after curfew since it was solely used for group sessions and the occasional motivational speech, but if someone did remember to lock up, the door code was common knowledge. Guys went there to blaze up. Girls went to sneak drinks.

Jaebeom had brought you inside. The relationship had grown and was leading to a physical consummation of your feelings for each other. You knew exactly what would happen. After all, you had snuck out of your cabin in the middle of the night to meet a boy beneath the stars.

You let him lay you down on the stage, behind the heavy velvet curtain. Jaebeom at least had the wherewithal to put his jacket down for you to rest on.

You stole a glance of the shadow behind the curtain, not too far from where you sat, and your expression soured. You could still remember the rampant beating of your heart when Jaebeom kissed you with all he had and laid you down beneath him.

The memory raced across your mind in steady bursts. Your eyes burned at how gentle he had been with you, how loving. Jaebeom convinced you that he was madly in love and that there was a future between you and him.

And you were such a fool to believe it. You were over the moon thinking you had finally found love in the most unlikely of places. With someone you trusted. Someone you considered a friend.

Taking a deep breath, you were officially angry.

The time spent with Jackson had taken off the rose-colored glasses. You were able to see your affair with Jaebeom for what it was. And though you were still hopelessly in love with him, you were mad as hell for what he had done to you.

Doctor Ambrose called your name and began, “Let’s start with you. Why don’t you tell us the behavior that warranted your presence back at camp this year?”

You crossed your legs and sang, “Oh, where to begin, Doc? I lied. I cheated. I stole. Short of murder, my rap sheet is long.”

“You’ve been coming here for many years and you know that’s not what these sessions are about,” she chided, giving you a stern look. “Skip the bravado and get straight to the real talk.”

You narrowed your eyes. Ambrose always did hit the nail on the head. That’s why she was one of the few people at this godforsaken place that held everyone’s respect. Which was impressive in its own right since you and your fellow rich, troubled kids had very little respect for anyone.

But if Doctor Ambrose thought you were going to bear your soul to a room full of people that didn’t give a damn about you - Jaebeom included - she was sorely mistaken.

You sighed and continued, “I’m sure it’s common knowledge by now that I had a terrible lapse in judgement last summer and that lapse in judgement had a lot of unforeseen consequences.”

Jaebeom was unmoving in his seat, but his eyes were heavy on you.

Ambrose gave you her undivided attention and spoke softly, “Go on.”

You shrugged, hoping to hide just how miserably the words were coming from your mouth. “I lashed out. I cycled through all of my emotions and when they were too painful, I did something bad. Something that distracted me from how angry or hurt I was. Classic reckless human behavior.”

Her response was blunt, but genuine, “It’s called self-destructive behavior and you were punishing yourself for the pain someone else inflicted on you.”

You studied her, wanting to smack this woman across the face for defining you in a single sentence. “Forget psychiatrist,” you scoffed. “You’re a psychic.”

“I know you,” Ambrose said tenderly. “And you are not defined by your mistakes.”

You rolled your eyes, though you would love to believe that. “We all are, Doctor Ambrose,” you told her morosely. Then, your tone shifted, “Now, please take the spotlight off of me before I do something bad. Like I said, it’s what I’m known for.”

Ambrose exhaled loudly, conflicted, but decided not to push you. Turning to the next participant, she called, “Jaebeom, your turn.”

Jaebeom was still looking at you.

“Why don’t you tell us the activities that landed you back for yet another summer here?”

Jaebeom grumbled, “I’m a dick. The end.”

A few of the other attendees chortled.

“Jaebeom, everyone here knows you’re more complex than that,” Ambrose shot back.

“Am I?”

She cocked her head. “You don’t think so.”

“Ask her,” Jaebeom said, waving his hand in your direction. “Everyone knows what I did.”

You didn’t dare look at him, offering no absolution. You kept your gaze firmly rooted to Doctor Ambrose, who was now glancing between the two of you suspiciously.

Tapping her pen, Ambrose ordered, “After this group session I want to see both of you in my office.”

Your heart sank and you pleaded, “But, Doctor Ambrose…”

“Moving on,” she cut you off.

You folded your arms tightly across your chest in defiance, stiff in your seat. Jaebeom stretched out his legs and braced his arms on his thighs, keeping his head low.

Tuning out the conversations going around the circle of other campers discussing their toxic and sometimes illegal activities, you could only think about how angry you were. How it was billowing and growing inside of you until it threatened to burst.

Though Jaebeom was in the seat beside yours, he felt an entire world away. What had you done to him to deserve this? And for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you stop loving him? If you fell in love with someone, couldn’t you ultimately fall back out?

Stealing a glance in the corner of your eye, Jaebeom looked up at that same moment and your eyes met. You looked away immediately, bitter and vengeful, but Jaebeom persisted. For someone who prided himself on being set in his ways, he couldn’t stand how you spun him on his edge.

You made him want to risk it all.

When the group session ended, Ambrose twirled the pen between her fingers and said, “I suppose we can forgo my office and just speak here.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Jaebeom spoke up, venomous.

“I think there’s plenty,” she asserted, studying you intently. “Wanna tell me about it?”

Your eyes glistened when they met hers. You wanted to tell her she was right. That you had punished yourself for a year because you fell for a boy - the wrong boy. It was stupid. It was juvenile. And you resented yourself to hell and back for it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you finally murmured, voice shaky.

She smiled, comforting. “Try me.”

Jaebeom could see you were about to crack. He could hear the weakness seeping into your words. Running a hand through his hair, he blurted out, “It’s my fault.”

Ambrose questioned levelly, “How so?”

“Be quiet,” you hissed.

“I fucked up,” Jaebeom confessed.

“Language,” she corrected loosely.

Jaebeom frowned. “I seduced her. I convinced her I was in love.”

“And were you?”

“No, I…,” Jaebeom trailed, like he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I don’t know.”

You glared with nothing short of loathing at the floor.

Ambrose was putting the pieces together and she didn’t hesitate to scold, “What was your purpose, Jaebeom? What were you trying to achieve?”

Jaebeom paused a moment. Then, he finally admitted, “I was trying to get her into bed.”

Ambrose clocked a glance at you and said, “I’m assuming you succeeded.”

Your breaths came faster. Your heart was revving like the engine of Jackson’s blood red Corvette. Any minute you were going to explode.

“I went too far,” Jaebeom mulled, scratching his head. “I had never gone that far before, but I was addicted. I had no idea it would… I didn’t know she would…”

“You’re full of shit,” you snapped.

Doctor Ambrose called your name, giving you the same warning about profanity.

You leveled your scowl at Jaebeom, who had already bowed his head in submission or shame, and sneered, “I will never believe a word you say. You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted someone to hurt as much as you hurt.”

Jaebeom still couldn’t meet your eyes. Pathetic, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t face your wrath. He couldn’t see the pain manifested on your beautiful face.

“Congratulations,” you continued, rising to your feet. “I know how you feel and I almost derailed my life because of you!”

Ambrose held out a hand amicably. “Please, sit.”

“No, I’m out of here,” you barked, gritting your teeth to keep the tears at bay. “And if you plan on physically making me stay in the same room with this asshole a minute longer, my stepfather’s attorneys would love to blow this shit wide open.”

Doctor Ambrose gave you a nod and sat back down.

Your steps echoed through the frigid silence of the auditorium and you nearly knocked the doors off their hinges when you pushed them open to escape outside.

When you had gone, Jaebeom exhaled heavily.

Ambrose looked at him. She could see the guilt weighing down his shoulders and though she didn’t want to take pity on him after what you had just revealed, compassion was a cornerstone of who she was as a person.

“Jaebeom, it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it,” Ambrose whispered for his ears only. “Breaking other people doesn’t fix you.”

Jaebeom stood to full height without another word and skulked away, hiding his teary eyes behind his long black hair.

“The nerve of that bitch! I know that she knows what happened last summer,” you vented, pacing back and forth in front of Jackson as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone on the east coast knows by now. I had to hear about it for the first month of school on a daily basis!”

“I know,” Jackson replied patiently.

You tried to mimic the voices of the nosy, gossiping girls back home, “‘Can you believe she spread her legs for him? Did she really think he loved her? I thought she was smart. Turns out she’s a dumb whore like the rest of us!’”

Jackson grimaced. He remembered that morning, when you told him you slept with Jaebeom. You were so happy, so sure of what you wanted. And he knew it was going to unravel, leaving you holding all the pieces. “No one said that.”

“Everyone said that, Jacks! Admit it,” you yelled.

Of course, they did. Jackson had never threatened so many people in his life. Jackson had a lot of friends, but he only had one best friend. Whenever they spoke of you and Jaebeom, it made his skin crawl. Made his fists clench on instinct.

He was supposed to protect you.

Jackson rose from the bed, grasping your arms and staring you in the face. “Who cares what other people say? I sure as shit don’t!”

You cast your gaze down, shifting from angry to sad. “And he really sat there acting like he didn’t think I would take it so personally,” you whispered, trembling.

Jackson gathered you in his arms, squeezing tight. “He’s an idiot. It is known,” he quipped dryly.

You pulled back and sighed, “Maybe we should just fuck.”

Jackson frowned, but quickly hid his disappointment with a swift, “I’m not in the mood.”

You quirked a brow. “Seriously?”

Jackson released you and teased, “Yeah, I’m not a faucet.”

You let a smirk play at your lips and reached for his belt. “What if I…”

Jackson grabbed your wrists and chided you so sternly you almost faltered, “Listen. You are more than sex. You understand me?”

There were very few occasions Jackson reprimanded you and he always snared your full attention when it happened. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you murmured, “...Okay.”

Jackson simpered. “You don’t need to fuck. You need a hug.”

You chuckled, squeaking in surprise when he pulled you to his chest faster than you thought possible. You smiled, burying your face against his neck as he enveloped you in his embrace.

It was exactly what you needed.

You set your hands to his shoulders, feeling burly muscles underneath. Jackson always radiated heat and energy, and you were content to let him hold you forever. Jackson was warmth and safety.

He was home.

After a moment, you blurted to alleviate the tension, “Can we go get food?”

Jackson exclaimed, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you walked arm in arm to the mess hall. It had been ungodly, the hour you woke to attend your group therapy session, but it meant you were starving for breakfast and the smell that hit your nose when you entered the dining room made you salivate on the spot.

Approaching the line, Jackson said, “Damn it. I forgot to tell you I’m sitting with Yeona today.”

“Oh,” you replied, remembering you didn’t get a chance to talk to him much after you had pounced on him. “I take it everything went well last night.”

“Yeah, we hit it off. I’m laying the groundwork.”

You rolled your eyes. Part of you was rooting in Yeona’s corner, that she stick to her guns and save herself for someone who loved her. The other part felt guilty as hell for being part of the same scheme that destroyed you last summer.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you told him, “I think I want some alone time to myself anyway. I’ll sit in the corner.”

Jackson eyed you worriedly. “Are you sure? I can totally blow her off.”

“Positive,” you insisted, beaming at the gesture. “Go with Yeona. You two would make a really cute couple.”

“Ha. Ha,” said Jackson in mock laughter.

Together you got your food and then parted in the aisleway. Yeona smiled when Jackson joined her by the window and you vaguely wished happiness for them. Jackson wasn’t like Jaebeom.

Maybe Yeona would be good for Jackson. She could help him work through his commitment issues. You had seen firsthand what his parents’ marriage had done to him. It was no surprise he broke off relationships as soon as they started to become serious.

Taking the empty table in the corner, you backed against the wall. Pulling a magazine out of your purse, you placed it next to your tray and opened to a random page, biting into your toasted bagel.

Jaebeom leaned against the adjacent door frame, hands in his pockets. He was sporting his trademarked leather jacket and his hair had strayed into his eyes while watching you.

He was at war with himself over what to say.

First and foremost he wanted to apologize, but Lim Jaebeom had way too much pride for that. Secondly, he considered offering you a better deal than whatever Jackson was giving you, but given your furor at the group session, Jaebeom knew better than to stoke your wrath again.

Jaebeom thought of all those times last summer when he caught himself staring at you. How could someone so beautiful and amazing be interested in the likes of him? You were confident and fearless, a little rough around the edges with a heart of gold. You were everything he aspired to be and you brought out the best in him without even knowing it.

By then, Jaebeom was in too deep. He could feel himself falling for you and he forbade himself from ever putting his heart on the line. And so he cut you loose.

Jaebeom remembered your face when he spoke those words. I never loved you. The joy left your face. The light fled your eyes. With four words, he had broken someone completely and it kept him awake at night.

Sex was a release for him. No more, no less. Jaebeom could fuck a girl and never see her again afterward, and it wouldn’t bother him for a second. After her - the woman that loved and left him - Jaebeom didn’t attach sex with emotion and certainly not intimacy or commitment.

Then, he had you. Suddenly, he wanted to wake up to you in the morning. He wanted to fall asleep in your arms every night. He didn’t fuck you… he made love to you. He felt passion for the first time in a long time. When it was over, he didn’t want to leave like he had always done. And that scared the shit out of him.

Jaebeom realized you had begun to heal him and he panicked.

Even now, Jaebeom wanted you back. He needed another chance. His first instinct was always to run when he felt emotions he didn’t understand, but he could fight back this time. He could change for you, couldn’t he?

When Jaebeom slid into the seat beside you, you weren’t the least bit surprised.

“What are you reading?” he asked nonchalantly, picking up the magazine and fanning the pages.

“Chick magazine,” you deadpanned. “There’s an article in there on Ten Ways to Achieve Female Orgasm. You should read it.”

Another snide jab at his bedroom skills. Jaebeom wrinkled his nose, but rebuffed you, “I only got one round with you. How do you know I couldn’t give you the best loving of your life?”

It was a provocative thought. You felt your heart stutter a little, but your mind was fully in control now, and you shot back, “Because I don’t think you know what love is.”

Jaebeom met your eyes and this time, you didn’t back down. “You know what I meant,” he huffed.

“So, I’m a mind reader now? Good to know,” you retorted, acerbic.

Jaebeom turned to you, leaning in and whispering, “Tonight. After curfew. Sneak out with me.”

You shook your head, mouth full of food. Swallowing, you told him coolly, “I have a regularly scheduled dick appointment with Jackson.”

“Cancel it,” Jaebeom said, appearing unaffected though it made him want to destroy Jackson a thousand times over. “I’ll have some wine. We can go to the lookout. You know, like old times.”

You scowled at him and yet, you wanted nothing more than to go back to those old times. Before you were stupid. Before you fell in love with him.

“Give me one good reason,” you hissed, taking a sip of your orange juice.

Jaebeom shifted, like the words pained him. More from pride than anything else. “I just want to talk to you. I miss you. As a friend.”

You didn’t say anything, but you shuffled your attention between him and Jackson. The latter was making Yeona laugh heartily and you felt a twinge of jealousy. Not from a place of malice, but a protectiveness over your best friend.

Jackson would tell you not to. He would tell Jaebeom to take a fucking hike.

Angling back to Jaebeom, you warned, “If you so much as grab my boob, I will kick you in the balls and leave you there.”

Jaebeom smiled, but quickly fought it. “That’s fair.”

“What time?”

“Eleven.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the spot.”

Jaebeom rose and you were sad to see him go, but he added, “Nah, I will come to your cabin and get you. I don’t want you walking at night alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Jackson stitched his brows, having listened to you recount the exchange to him back at his cabin.

“Of course, chivalry is dead,” your best friend exclaimed incredulously. “He killed it.”

“Jacks, please,” you whined. “He just wants to talk.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jackson countered firmly and he looked a heartbeat away from combusting. “He hates that you’re sleeping with me. It’s jealousy. Plain and simple.”

You propped your hands on your hips, frustrated from arguing with him. “Wasn’t that the plan? To make him come after me again?”

Jackson remembered what had started all of this in the first place and he changed his tune. “Right, yeah, but this is just going the same route as last summer. You see that, right?”

“No, it’s not. I’m wiser now.”

Jackson approached briskly, taking you in his arms and roaming his hands around your waist. “You could just stay here with me,” he coaxed, voice a low growl. “I can eat that pussy like it’s my last meal.”

You snorted a laugh, but slipped out of his arms. “Nice try, but you were right. I’m more than just sex and I need to see where his head is at.”

Jackson sighed in defeat.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” you called back to him as you slipped through the door.

Jackson watched you go and stood rooted in place. Fuck, he was conflicted. Every instinct he had told him to stop you, but how could he? What right did he have to you in the first place?

He was just the guy you fucked to get back at another guy.

Jackson exhaled loudly through his nose. He could feel himself slipping, losing his nerve. Even when he sat with Yeona, making her smile and laugh, and noticing she leaned into his touches, his eyes still wandered to you. And when Jaebeom had appeared by your side, Jackson could feel his heart sinking into the bottom of his stomach.

Jackson reminded himself of the deal. He would get Yeona and you would get Jaebeom. That was it. Those were the terms you both agreed on and thus far, everything was going quite smoothly.

But Jackson was thinking of you and now he was thinking of Jaebeom touching you. And it made him want to die.

The day passed by at a glacial pace. By the time night fell, you began the long, arduous process of doing your hair and makeup. When there was a knock at the door, you had to stop yourself from sprinting across the room to answer.

Instead, you made his ass wait.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping through and shutting the door behind you a moment later.

“Hey,” Jaebeom replied, scanning you over. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, noting the backpack slung over his shoulder. “What you got back there?”

“None of your business,” he teased. “Ready to go?”

You pursed your lips, watching Jaebeom turn and stride away, expecting you to follow. Which, of course, you did.

The lookout was a small patch of open field between the trees. It was the perfect spot for stargazing and late night makeout sessions. You and Jaebeom had spent many hours in this place. As did you and Jackson.

It was a place of clarity and self-reflection. Something about seeing the stars so clearly, away from the noise and smog of the city, made you feel a sense of belonging. That everything would be okay. Sooner or later.

Jaebeom dropped his backpack and began rifling through it. Reading your mind, he called, “Don’t sit yet.”

You were about to complain, but then he stood and fanned out a red flannel blanket, smoothing out the corners over the grass.

“Now, you can sit.”

You almost chuckled, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Plopping down, you overlapped your ankles and watched him take the spot beside you.

“Wow, this is actually romantic,” you smarted, monotonous.

Jaebeom popped open the bottle of wine and took a swig. “I’m full of surprises,” he quipped, handing you the bottle.

A bit perturbed he had neglected to bring separate glasses, you took a sip and countered bitterly, “Not really. I remember all the romantic gestures and sweet words of last summer.”

Jaebeom sighed. So did he.

He had taken something so precious and innocent and filled it with poison. Jaebeom could have walked away at any point. And even worse, when all was said and done, he could have stayed.

There was a lull of silence and you didn’t mind. Jaebeom studied the stars, feigning interest. You turned your head, looking at his profile alight with the glow of the moon.

“Jaebeom, why did you bring me here?”

Jaebeom swallowed and whispered, “I hate myself for what I did to you.”

You frowned. “And what about all the other girls?”

Jaebeom shook his head, remorseful only for you. “They weren’t naive. They weren’t inexperienced,” he explained, somber. “They weren’t my friends. They weren’t you.”

You narrowed your eyes. The anger was pooling in your belly again. And your next question was scathing, “So, what sets me apart is that you hurt me the most?”

“Yes,” Jaebeom said, feeling small. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

You cried, “Why me?”

“You were the holy grail. Every guy wanted you.”

Biting back tears, you whimpered, “You talk about me like I’m not a person.”

Jaebeom realized that and he looked away, mulling over if he could put his feelings into words for once. “Would you believe me if I said that looking back I meant the things I said to you - that I loved every moment we spent together last summer?”

You thought about it for a moment and then you answered, “No. It’s what I’ve wanted you to say and yet. . . I don’t believe you. Everything you said and did was the means to an end.”

Jaebeom didn’t deny it. “I thought so, too. But when I got home, you were all I could think about. I wanted to see you and hold you. I missed having you in my life.”

The tears were flowing freely now and you turned your head away.

Jaebeom came closer, cupping your cheek and wiping the tears with his thumb.

You sobbed, “Why did you do this?”

“Shh, baby,” he whispered under his breath.

“You hate yourself for hurting me. I hate myself for loving you.”

Jaebeom felt like a gaping open wound, one that refused to heal. And yet your pain surpassed his own. He would rather writhe in misery than see you crying in his arms. Knowing that he had driven you this far.

“You were right,” he choked out. “I wanted you to know hurt the way I did. I envied you. You never let anyone get to you. I thought in some twisted way I wouldn’t be alone and I could finally move past what happened to me.”

You could feel yourself falling for it again and you lowered your head.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom finally said.

Those words you had wanted for so long and they did nothing for you. They didn’t fix you. They didn’t numb the pain. They didn’t restore what had been taken.

You pushed his arms away and got to your feet, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. Stomping toward the gravel path, Jaebeom was hot on your heels, calling your name.

When he grabbed your arms and spun you back around to face him, you yelled, “Let me go, Jaebeom.”

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you need me to do!”

“Break this fucking spell,” you shouted back at him. “Make me hate you. Because I love you and it’s killing me!”

That was the last thing Jaebeom wanted. He was consumed by you. There were those words again and Jaebeom couldn’t stand it. No one had ever loved him, much less fallen in love with him, and he didn’t know what to do.

So, he gathered you in his arms and melded his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back hard, carding your fingers into his hair.

Jaebeom held your waist and hips snugly, trapping you to him. You pressed yourself to his chest and tugged on his hair, earning a groan. You slipped your tongue past his lips and Jaebeom made a noise at your aggression. He could taste the salt of your tears.

This was stupid, you thought to yourself. You just never learned, did you? But God, kissing him was amazing. You let your hands fall from his head to roam his shoulders, pressing your nails into his shirt. You felt so small in his arms, like you were lost in him.

Jaebeom began to move, steering you with him back toward the blanket, still kissing you like his life depended on it. You weren’t surprised when he lay you down, but Jaebeom was beyond surprised when you wrestled him to his back and straddled his hips.

You wanted to grin at the shocked expression he was sporting, but you only caught a brief glimpse of his widened eyes before smashing your lips back on his.

You just wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you were satisfied, satiated. Maybe then you could finally get on with your life. It was senseless logic, but all you knew was he kissed so fucking good. It made you crazy. Just like everything else about him.

For fuck’s sake, you would never understand why you were in love with the one thing determined to destroy you.

“Stop. Stop,” you suddenly told him, panting and breathless.

Jaebeom looked at your hand pressed to his chest, watching you sit up on top of him, and his heart sank. He knew that look. You were about to bolt.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, more to yourself as you brushed your hair out of your face with your fingers.

Jaebeom stroked his palms up your thighs, clad in the tightest jeans he had ever seen, and coaxed, “Why?”

You blinked, thinking of an answer. There were many, but you were trying to invalidate them on the spot.

Jaebeom sat up, wrapping an arm around your hips and rocking you closer to him. “Tell me,” he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your neck.

Your eyes fluttered and you felt resolve melting away each time his lips touched over your racing pulse.

“You’ll leave me again,” you cried shakily.

Jaebeom shook his head, proceeding to suck beneath your ear. “I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.

You ran your hands through his hair, hips arching ever so slightly in search of friction. Your body was heating up, excitement pulsing through your veins. You craved him. Lust was a powerful thing, and now you truly understood.

“I am,” you said firmly, pushing him back with both hands and rising to your feet.

Jaebeom slumped back, disappointed and defeated, and shook his hair out of his eyes. Watching you walk away, he begged, “Please stop sleeping with Jackson.”

You turned to face him, lips parting incredulously.

Seeing your anger, he lowered his tone to something more pliant, but definitely snide. “Give me a chance to make things right before you let him get his claws in you.”

It only confirmed what Jackson had said. Jaebeom’s newfound pursuit of you was solely from a place of jealousy. Your best friend had been right and you were too blind to accept it.

“You really are the worst,” you snapped at him, heading back on your way.

Jaebeom shouted vengefully, “He doesn’t fucking deserve you!”

You kept walking and retorted with disdain, “Story of my life, it seems. I guess I only fuck guys that don’t deserve me.”

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now.

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really.

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them.

God damn she’s a fucking idiot.

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous.

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.”

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne.

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air…

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before.

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?”

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake.

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation.

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects.

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate.

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.”

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints.

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father.

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss.

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter.

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye.

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces.

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin.

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day.

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards.

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.”

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden.

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls.

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns.

A huge mistake.

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.”

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.”

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.”

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son.

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?”

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says.

“Zoe?”

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod.

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head.

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself.

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her.

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying.

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.”

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy.

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy.

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.”

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet.

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more.

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too.

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always.

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident.

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something?

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s.

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.”

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest.

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.”

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry.

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked.

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--”

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face.

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.”

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly.

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up.

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.”

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees.

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still.

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover.

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying.

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.”

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath.

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?”

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.”

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”

She spins on her heels, and walks away.

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.”

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go.

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.

Her stomach rolls again.

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.”

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much.

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him.

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on.

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster.

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.”

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.”

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable.

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.”

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.”

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays.

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help.

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall.

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting.

Two voices she knows intimately.

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock.

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again.

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head.

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.”

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less.

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside.

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly.

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it.

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not.

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again.

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf.

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying.

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain.

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully.

Good. He’s gone.

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick.

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out.

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror.

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom!#it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

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