#so he has to push his love aside to write you an honest and deserving piece of advice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah!

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

995 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @dayxoxodreamer @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx

320 notes · View notes

levisgirll · 3 years

Note

hi mina! i'm back again to make a request for you because you write so wonderfully i can't-! it's okay if you don't want to write it tho :D

may i ask for some prince jean headcanons/scenario? maybe something like the reader is his maid or modist, and he's kinda in love :D (this is just an idea, feel free to modify, i trust in your magical writing skills!)

sorry for this messy request and thanks! take breaks and care sweetie <3

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 (𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐔)

text: omg HII ANTI <3 I’m glad ur back with another request and I would happily write this for you cutie c; thank you for also finding my work nice ahh this really makes me happy that someone out there likes my writing and ideas djkjsk 🥺❤️❤️ okay but this is such a cute idea- its my first time writing a royal au so i hope it turned out okay and u liked it :,) make sure to also take care of yourself too bae 😌✨ okay I decided to make the reader a strong willed bodyguard instead of a maid cause I had some ideas for that instead so I hope that's alright 😭

synopsis: y/n has started to work for the kirstein royal family and due to their many great skills, abilities, attention to detail, and great self defense training, y/n was hired and trusted to be prince jean’s personal bodyguard! They have always admired prince jean and how handsome he is, later did they know not only y/n is developing feelings for jean but so does he, and he falls in love with y/n instantly! Although, something happens along the way....

fluff, lil bit mention of blood/knife, royal au ♡ —

Erwin has hired you to join the Kirstein royal family army, after two years training to be a solider to defend the country against the Jaegerists which were a rebel faction that wanted Eren to be the next king instead and to create a ‘New Jaeger Empire’. Also, wanting to protect the prince, which was one of your goals. You really admired prince Jean of how affectionate, kind, honest, and straightforward he is, you wanted to stay and be loyal to him.

Everything changes though when you graduated from the military training with your friends Connie and Sasha. Erwin had suddenly made you prince Jean’s personal bodyguard. “With your great skills y/n, and how loyal and strong you are, I think you will be a perfect choice to have the role as his personal bodyguard!”

You stood there, shocked, and your eyes were wide open. “M-Me Commander?....Of course! I would be honored to!” You will finally see jean, and be by his side! The thought of that would make your cheeks go red...it’s cause you are loyal to him right?

Erwin escorted you and took you to Prince jean who you spotted was sitting on the dinner table hall. “Erwin...! Huh? Who’s that?” Jean was quick to notice your presence, and he was quite taken aback with your presence.

“Your new personal bodyguard Prince Jean. With how bad the situation is going, you never know who will come and attack you. So, Y/N here is going to be by your side and make sure they protect you. If you also ever need anything, you can ask Y/N.” Erwin patted on your back and you went forward and saluted to Jean. “A-At your service Prince Jean!”

“O-Oh...alright then, whatever.” He got up and walked past you both, leaving the dinning hall, you could have sworn you saw his cheeks went a bit red. “He is usually like this at the beginning, but he seems to like you!”

As the days passed, you and Prince Jean actually got along pretty well which made your bond stronger. He seemed to be the kind of person who wouldn't care from the outside, but you realized he cared about everyone and when it came to you...he would always ask if you are doing well. Things seemed to be fine at the moment, for now.

“Young master! You have a meeting with the chairman at Trost District soon.” You said as you were next to Jean, catching up with his pace. “Okay, let's get going then!” He gave you a grin which made you blush, as the both of you approached the carriage, he went ahead and opened the door for you! “Well, are you getting in or not?” You felt all eyes on you, and heard some gasps. ‘It should be the other way around!’ you thought as you got inside while feeling so embarrassed.

You were both alone sitting down in the carriage and you could feel Jean’s eyes all over you, “Young mas-” you were stunned when he held your hands and you looked at his eyes that was searching your gaze. “Don't call me that when we are alone....Didn’t I tell you that?” You couldn't hold it, you were a blushing mess now!

“Okay...J-Jean, why did you do that? People will get the wrong idea..” Lately, Jean has been very affectionate towards you, although you had to admit you had a crush on him, but you could never say that to him.

“So? Y/N...I don't care what others think about us, I care about what you think instead.” He started to caress your hands while still looking at your eyes, “M-Me?” He nodded, waiting for your answer but you pushed away gently and looked away. “Well, it’s my duty...to protect you and serve you.” You tried to change the subject while still looking outside the window, but....you noticed something off? Where is this carriage heading too?

“No! Y/N that’s not it...I meant I...” He came closer to you, too close to your face while he was blushing madly, you touched his chest to try and push him back a bit, and you felt his heart beat like crazy. Is he...nervous?

“Jean. Not now I-” As you tried to finish what you were trying to say, the carriage stopped suddenly which made you and Jean fall. “What the hell?” He yelled out and looked at you immediately, full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Young master stay inside!” Before he could stop you, you open the carriage door and stepped out, while shutting it tight. You brought your sword out and examined the area and situation. ‘The carriage man is gone...we are in the woods...and I sense someone, but who?!’

“Come out, whoever you are...or perhaps you are a Jaegerist?” As soon as you said that, a sword was seen to be thrown out at you and you quickly stopped it by slashing it to hit on the other direction with your long strong sword.

“Hmph, you seem to be smart.” You head turned quick to the direction where you heard the voice. You saw a middle aged man with a tousled auburn hair “And? Who the fuck is asking?” You pointed your sword at him with a stoic expression, showing him no fear. “It’s Floch, and if you could do me a favor how about you just leave and let me deal with the Prince okay?”

You let out a chuckle, then gave him a death glare. “Make me.”

“Fuck, you are stubborn, let me just finish you off!! Don't you get it? This crappy prince doesn't deserve to be the next king to rule us!! It should be Eren!” He yelled out and brought out a knife and charged at you, you put your sword away and decide to do hand-to-hand combat on him. You took your stance and when he was near you, Y/N pushed the knife down and then quickly did the grappling technique, which took him down completely.

“Young Master! Call the headquarters for backup, we were tricked and put in a trap!” You said as you were trying to hold on to Floch, not letting him escape. “O-On it!”

“It’s quiet....too quiet no way this guy came alon-” You looked up and you saw someone charging at you with their sword, she was fast and you quickly got up and brought your sword to stop her attack for defense.

‘F-Fuck...that was close.’ You backed away and looked at the carriage, ‘He needs to be safe...’ you wondered and started to worry.

“About fucking time Mikasa!” Floch shouted out as he rubbed his hands which you held on tightly earlier. “Wait...I know you! Ackerman right? It's a privilege to meet you.” Mikasa Ackerman, she was one of the Ackerman that stood behind and did not serve the Kirstein royal family, but instead stood by Eren’s side and believed in him.

“And your Y/N, the strong bodyguard. Please step aside.” She sounded very serious and looked strong. The rumors were true, she did neglect the royal family and went with the Jaegerists rebel group.

‘Ha...who would have known this mission would be a complete disaster!’ You thought and as you were preparing to attack, until Jean came out of the carriage with his sword and pointed at them. “Don't Hurt Y/N!!”

Your eyes widened as you turned your head to look at him. “Young Master! What the hell are you doing? Don’t come out and run away!”

“B-But...” Jean stuttered and looked at you, he did not want to leave you behind and run like a coward, leaving behind....the most important person to him that he cared about the most. “No! I promised to protect you, so ru-” Being distracted by Jean, everything now seem to have stopped for you and there was a pitch silence. You looked in front of you and felt what seemed like a dagger stabbed towards your side waist, blood was dripping and the one who stabbed you was Floch!

“Floch...! Why?! That was not part of the plan!” Mikasa yelled out, and what seemed to be shocked by his action. Everything was going too quickly for you, you placed your hand on his shoulder and shoved him away which made him fall back. You gripped your waist and yelled out, “I-If it’s meant to protect the Prince...Then come at me!”

You heard lot’s of horses approaching and you finally spotted Erwin’s squad who finally came for backup. You noticed Levi by Erwin’s side and as soon as he saw you bleeding, he got provoked and got off from his horse and charged at Mikasa. “An Ackerman with an Ackerman, Hm? Traitor, let me deal with you.”

You let out a sigh, now knowing the Prince is safe and Levi and Erwin’s squad was here to help you guys out. Jean ran towards you and held on to you as you fell down on your knees “Y-Y/N!!”

“Why....Why didn’t you run away?” You said softly and trying to stay conscious, Jean quickly placed his hand on your cheek while the other arm was used to hold your body, “Cause I care about you Damnit!”

You gave him a weak smile and held on his hand that was placed on your cheek, “Did I do...my best to serve you?” Was all you could say and you slowly passed out due to the blood loss you had and you heard Jean's voice drifted slowly.

After a couple of hours have passed, you woke up what seemed to be in a hospital, and you were wrapped around bandages. You moved a bit which made you wince at the pain from your side abdomen.

“Don’t move around! You are still injured and you haven’t healed yet.” A girl with long beautiful blonde hair said, full of concern in her tone as she came closer to you and checked up on you. Her large blue eyes were examining your injury to see if the wound was closed up. “A-And you are?”

“I’m Historia! A nurse who is looking after you. Doctor Hanji told me to stay by your side until you wake up.” She said with a big smile and she looked like an angel to you.

“W-Where is the Prince! Is he okay?!” You said all worried and started to panic. “Haha, Don't worry! He is fine, thanks to you protecting him! He told me to notify him when you wake up but I think you need to rest a bit longer.”

You let out a sigh, ‘At least he is fine...but I want to see him.’ You wondered and looked outside the window to let your thoughts run around your mind as you slowly closed your eyes to rest.

“Y/N...Hey Y/N wake up.” You felt a rub against your shoulders and you opened your eyes to see Prince Jean looking down at you with a relief escaping his mouth. “I’m glad you are looking fine, but are you doing okay?”

You slowly got up which Jean held on your arm for support, “Y-Yea, thanks for stopping by...Jean.” You were blushing at how he suddenly started to caress your arm, then up your shoulders. He went in closer and gave you a tight hug around your shoulders. “Damn it! I thought I was gonna lose you today, that’s it...I'm not backing away with this anymore.” He pulled back, and was looking at your face. “J-Jean...What do you mea-”

“Y/N, I love you. I loved you ever since I first saw you coming and you were always by my side, but in a way that made me feel calm, good and I felt your warmth all the time it would make me fall for you even more everyday...Being with you feels right to me!” He stopped talking and looked away, he was clearly embarrassed on what he just said, the prince was confessing to you and he was finally saying that he was falling in love with you!

You were shocked, was he actually saying this all? Was the Prince actually confessing to you? You couldn't help yourself but smile to what he said and you finally held his hands, “I...I feel the same way too!” You let out now a big smile and tears started to form on your eyes, you felt so happy and so did he.

He looked behind to make sure the door was closed and then looked back at you who was now approaching your face closely and he started to give you a passionate kiss, you held on his hands while he was holding your face, lifting it up and he kept on kissing you. The night had a nice cold breeze and the window was slightly open which made the wind come in and that made your hair flow slowly as you both continued to kiss slowly and gently.

Jean pulled back and you both were breathing heavily, by the looks of it, you could tell you were Jean’s first kiss. He wanted to kiss you again and again, “I’m now love sick cause of you.”

The night went out so peacefully and you both enjoyed each others company while holding hands and caressing each others cheeks when talking about various topics and he went on explaining how brave and strong you were today when you stood up and fought against Floch and Mikasa. He found your confidence very attractive. He felt like a lucky man to have you by his side and he promised you that after he becomes king he would make you his.

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 : Usually in the evenings, he would sneak into your place because he begged that he wanted to see you and stay at your place for a couple of hours to cuddle and kiss you. It was his favorite place in the world cause it was just y/n and him, alone. “Okay Jean, you have to go now!” You said blushing at how clingy Jean was towards you, hugging your waist. “Please just another 5 minutes babe, besides come on it’s just you and me tonight.” Jean would say playfully while he would give you a soft kiss on your scar that was on your waist ♥

okay but this was a really fun royal au I wrote up and I'm kinda glad how the first time I'm writing it went well! thanks anti for the request again and I hope you liked it <3 and if anyone else did please then leave a like or a reblog! it would mean a lot c:

111 notes · View notes

clairecrive · 3 years

Text

“Voodoo doll” - Billy russo x reader

A/n: and here’s another one for Billy. I got the idea from a request I got for another character and I thought it perfectly fit Billy. As if Ben Barnes could ever be considered anything but beautiful, *scoff* please.

Warnings: a bit angsty, fluff though, jigsaw!billy, season 2 billy

Prompts(loosely): “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…”

(let me know if you want to be tagged to any of my writings)

“Oh, hi you’re up.” You let yourself inside Billy’s hospital room smiling when you saw that the back of his bed was pushed up. He was sitting instead of lying down and that usually meant that he was awake.

“How are you feeling today? The nurse outside told me that she gave you something for the pain but that everything is healing nicely.” Billy recovery looked like it was going to be long but after the impossibly long surgery you were just happy to see him alive and breathing. He didn’t look like he shared your optimism though. Granted, he was bound on a hospital bed, his body probably ached him all over and above all, his face was completely covered in bandages. It was the part that had taken most of the hits and Billy was one lucky bastard to even be in a hospital bed instead of being underground. That’s what the doctors had told you, at least.

Still, you could see how hard it was for him to see this whole situation in a positive way. It was taking its toll on him and you knew that no matter how many bruises and broken bones he had, his psychological health was the one which was in the worst shape.

You tried to offer him all the support you could. Sometimes that meant cheering him up with jokes and terrible puns, others simply required you to be next to him.

Seems like it was one of those days because Billy stayed silent.

“Billy?” you tried again, setting your bag on the ground and taking your usual place by the side of his bed.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” His voice was hoarse from how little he used it these days but hadn’t lost that gruff edge that you loved so much.

“Visiting his majesty of course.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Waiting for the bus for 20 minutes before they tell you that the run has been cancelled, now that is what I call a waste of time.” You complained recalling what had happened that morning.

Since you had entered his room, Billy hadn’t moved. Not that he could manage any big movement given the restraints they had put on him but at least he could move his head. It had been laying on his pillow up until now. He lifted it to try and look you into your eyes.

“I’m not your Billy anymore.”

“Why? Has anyone made their claim on you? Is that what this awful smell is? Your new playmate’s piss?”

Billy made a noise, it sounded a halfway between a laugh or a sob but since his head was covered in bandages, you couldn’t really tell. You hoped for the first, Billy had always loved your sense of humour- he had told you it was one of the reasons why he had noticed you- even if it consisted of terrible jokes. You thought they were hilarious, Billy thought you were adorable. Whatever.

“Listen, I can see how hard you’re taking this whole reversed beauty and the beast plot. But just so you know, I’m willing to let my facial hair grow if that makes you feel like a princess again.” You added on a more serious note, kinda, hoping to convince him that his face wasn’t the only thing you loved about him.

This time, the sound that left him was most definitely a sob. Startled, you didn’t know what to do.

Could he even cry? Wouldn’t it mess up with his bandages? Why was he crying though?

Still unsure on how to go about this, you reached for one of his bound hands only to see that it was tightly close in a fist. Your hand wrapped around his anyway, hoping that this small contact could soothe him in some way.

Fuck, you must be really worse at this than you thought. You were trying to make him laugh and here he was crying.

“Billy?” you tried again in a whisper.

All jokes aside, something must have happened this morning to make him feel this on edge. Had someone been rude to him? Well, he was a wanted person of course people weren’t going to respond to him like they did before. Billy couldn’t even count on his charm and good looks and you knew how good he was at using them to get what he wanted.

Wait, could that be the problem?

You thought about the best way to word the question when Billy spoke again, saving you from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Uh, what? Oh no no, he doesn’t get to do that.

“I agree, I’m not a fan of facial hair myself. We could buy you a tiara though. That is definitely going to do the trick.” Completely refusing to acknowledge his words, you kept going along with your previous joke.

“I’m serious y/n.” He insisted, his voice straightening to highlight his intent but still to no avail. Still clueless to it, he had laid on a silver platter your next pun.

“I thought your name was Billy, not Sirius. Wicked name though.” His hand tensed in your hold and you knew that he was getting angry.

“Would you stop joking around for one second? I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time around me.” His voice grew rougher, not exactly the high and strict tone he used to use at Anvil, but you could see he had strained his vocal cord to even attempt a stern voice.

“I’m going to look like a butchered voodoo doll, forget the beast.” He added in a quieter voice. A confession laced with guilt.

“Oh Billy, don’t say that. You’re so much more than your looks, you know that. Besides, I’m sure you’re still going to be the one with the dashing looks of the relationship.” Your voice came out all wobbly and squeaky but you couldn’t help it, hearing Billy’s words, a far cry from the man he used to be made you emotional. You wanted nothing more than to help him but you didn’t know how. And here he was, trying to push you away.

“There’s no relationship, y/n.”

“I know that you’ve taken a big hit on your head, the doctor told me about your memory loss. It’s okay, they told me that some things are going to come back and you remembered my name when you woke up so that’s a good sign.”

Billy contemplated the idea of making up a story about him not remembering about you and come up with someway for how he knew you name when he first saw you after the incident but even though he wanted you to see his point, he couldn’t do that to you.

He did remember you and he knew that the first part of your relationship had been based on lies. About his work, about his past, about his whereabouts when you asked him where he was going to late at night.

He also remembered how that almost had cost him your relationship entirely.

Billy wasn’t one to make promises but he had made one to you. To at least try to be open and honest with you. There were still things that Billy didn’t talk to you about but this time around, instead of coming up with an excuse, he openly said that he couldn’t tell where or what he was doing . That, in the long run, had gained your trust back. You knew it was for your safety and that every time he told you you couldn’t know something, it was work-related.

And despite the fact that Billy was trying to self sabotage himself and your relationship, there was a part of him that didn’t want to see you go.

Yes, he still thought that you deserved more. Not only for his looks but for the things he knew he had done but couldn’t remember. If half the things he was accused of were true, then that didn’t make him a good person, did it?

“I do remember you. There is nothing more vibrant in my mind than my time with you. That’s not the problem.”

“Then I wholeheartedly refuse your attempt at breaking up. You can say whatever you want but I assure you it isn’t going to work.”

“I wish I could say that I did not remember you being this stubborn but we both know it would be a lie.”

“Oh, honey we both know that you enjoy it quite a bit when you want to.” You wriggled your eyebrows, trying and completely failing at making a suggestive face. You were successful, however, in making him laugh.

“Fuck don’t do that y/n, I can’t laugh.” he groaned, his head resting back on his bed.

“Well that is going to be a problem, ‘cause all I’m good at is being a huge cosmic joke.” You smiled at him, happy that he was finally done with all that nonsense he had just tried to pull. Instead, you dived into your back to show him what you had brought him.

It was his favorite comic book.

Apparently, a successful CEO of a security firm had an extensive collection of comic books which was also his most priced possession. The first time he had come around after the surgery, he had asked about them. He was worried that in searching his place for clues and whatnot the police had ruined it or something. You couldn’t see his face but the long sigh he let out when you told him that you had taken care of it personally looked a lot like relief.

What were hundreds of expensive tailored suits in comparison?

You started reading one of his favorite ones, including a very poor but very engaging representation of every sound of action in the story which made Billy smile under all those bandages. He felt like the luckiest voodoo doll in the world.

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #marvel the punisher #the punisher #the punisher imagines #ben barnes #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes x reader

346 notes · View notes

bisexualbuck · 2 years

Note

Ooh what are your thoughts about Hen?

alright you asked!! you have been warned about a full novel so be ready

so back in season 1, hen cheated. i already wasn't very fond of this storyline because the only queer couple on the show and there's a cheating plot line involved? yikes. but she did, and karen was understandably so very hurt

their relationship was put through hell and they almost separated because of that, in fact they did for a time and got back together because hen apologized and swore it would never happen again and she understood how much she had hurt her wife

now flash forward this episode, henren is going strong, they've overcome this terrible obstacle though we saw in 5x7 that karen is still hurting over it and there's a part of her that may never truly let go of this fear and pain, and hen knows it. hen was still terribly sorry about the amount of pain she put karen in

so hen knows!! hen knows what cheating does on a relationship. she knows what being cheated on does to someone and YET!! she still encourages buck to LIE about having kissed lucy! she tells buck not to be truthful about having cheated on taylor, and then the only reason she tells buck to come clean is not because she changed her mind and accepted that being honest was the right thing to do. no. she only told buck to tell the truth because he is a "terrible liar"

....................... let that sink in

i am so angry, this is terrible, terrible writing for hen. hen has grown since season 1, she learned from her mistakes, she would never cheat on karen again, her marriage and her love for karen mean too much to her, so why would she enable buck to lie to taylor about his cheating?? all thoughts about buck pushed asides (but i'm not liking this cheating storyline for him either), when buck told hen about having kissed lucy, she should have told him that the only thing he could do now was to tell her the truth, to apologize, and to promise (and mean it!!) not to do it again, and if he had any doubts about the possibility of cheating again, then to break it off with taylor so as to avoid her any further pain

look you can think whatever you want about taylor and/or bucktaylor, this isn't about this. taylor already knows that something is wrong, at one point or another, taylor will learn about the cheating. cheaters can never fully cover their tracks, they always get caught, and hen knows that too because she was caught!! and what do you think will hurt the most? taylor learning from buck that he drank a bit too much and kissed lucy back in the heat of the moment (which i don't excuse, it's still cheating) or him lying to her face about it and then her learning about it later?

again, hen should have never told buck to lie. she should have have pushed buck to confess to taylor, and when he did tell her afterward that he couldn't own up to it, she should have been on his case about it

hen deserves better writing, and taylor deserves better treatment, like i don't care about her character all that much but cheating is terrible and deeply hurts people

and hen!! if she told karen about it, what do you think karen would say?? do you think karen would be on buck's side?? huh huh karen would be mad about hen's reaction to the whole thing, but i guess we won't see that

#911 spoilers #911 #hen wilson #evan buckley #taylor kelly #bucktaylor #wank for ts #rant for ts #911 wank #anyway i had thoughts

13 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years

Note

i have been laughing for like an hour at that one post about Macaque with hiccups so. what if like. drabble about that with idk prompts number 9 and 72 i guess???

Anon, you have NO IDEA how much I loved this post by @animemoonprincess , I have been wanting to write something using this idea for so long. I just wanted to write silly goofy "Mac can't control his powers when he has hiccups" fic for a while and this was so much fun!

How long have you been standing there?/Don’t you dare.

"And... how long as this been going on?" Pigsy asked, torn between shaking his head in disbelief and worry and holding back laughter at the sight before him. He honestly felt kinda bad for wanting to laugh, but after all the stunts the immortal monkey had put himself and his friends through... he allowed himself a few chuckles.

"Three-hic-HOURS!" Macaque snapped, laying flat on his chest and gripping the sides of the table in front of him with a scowl. "I can't take i-hic-it anymore, you have to have some-hic-thing to make them STOP!"

Each hiccup made Macaque's tail bristle and fluff up, as if each one startled him, and made his glamor glitch awkwardly. If that was the best way to put it.

"Mac, you look miserable," Mei said, holding back her own laughter as she looked up something on her phone.

"I am," he said, uncharacteristic honest for the moment... but then again, it wasn't like he could hide this fact.

"Don't I know that feeling," MK offered in solidarity, patting the immortal monkey on the back and wincing when another stronger hiccup made Macaque jump.

They had all wondered why he was wearing a cloak and avoiding them for the last hour when he finally showed his face, only hearing the hiccups coming from him and seeing the way he jumped ever so slightly with them. He'd stayed as close to light as much as he could, very unusual for himself, and tried to just go about what his initial mission was (which was apparently getting some ice water in the hopes it would help alleviate his symptoms).

And then he has hiccuped just a little too hard at the wrong moment and managed to fall through Sandy's shadow and into the lower levels of the drone ship.

To say they were all grateful the ship wasn't flying at the moment and that he was on the upper level was an understatement... even if he would have survived the fall. Being immortal the way he was.

Right now he was in the ship's kitchen with the rest of their little group (minus Wukong who had seemingly vanished to... wherever it was he liked to hide), gripping the table as stated before to presumably not fall through a misplaced shadow again in the overly brought room, and looking... well...

He was blue. Literally, his hair had turned blue. Then he hiccuped and it became an odd shade that looked like his own mixed with stripes of Wukong's hair color. His eye that had a glamor over it changed color every other hiccup as well, and so did the color of his outfit (though he didn't normally have a glamor over that he couldn't control what glamors were put up or taken down it seemed).

The next hiccup was followed by a soft whimper of frustration as his two ears became six before their eyes. And that... made Pigsy pause.

"Does this hurt you?" Sandy took the initiative to ask, raising an eyebrow of concern.

Whatever laugher was about to bubble up from the group surrounding Macaque paused instantly once he brought up the possibility. MK in particular paused, a look of realization and slight guilt dawning on his face.

"No..." Macaque started slowly, seeming to think over his next words carefully before he sighed in defeat and face planted into the table. "But -hic-... it is very -hic- uncomfortable," the other admitted after, his ears changing color from completely normal to a rainbow on either side. "Imagine feeling the -hic- chest spasms but in what-hic-ever part of your body changes. And it's -hic- really tiring to have my -hic- powers activate like this."

Well... that was actually moderately concerning. Not dangerous sounding, exactly, but Pigsy could imagine how much this was affecting the other when the last hiccup made whatever glamor over the dark circles under his eyes fade away. They all knew that Macaque was hardly sleeping but this...

"Well," Mei said cheerily, jumping up from her seat and waving her phone. "I have a few idea on how we can get rid of these that are less dangerous than finding a rare flower that blooms under very specific circumstances. What have you tried already?"

To say they had been unsuccessful was an understement. They’d tried nearly everything they could think of.

Macaque had tried holding his breathe again, breathing exercises, drinking the ice water he had left his room to get. Sandy had suggested compressing his chest with his knees, but that hadn't worked either. Pigsy had brought him some ice to chew on with much the same result.

Mei's idea of eating a lemon slice or swallowing a spoonful of sugar, while creative, were even less well received when they did not work. There were other methods she found online that she immediately vetoed, no one wanted to anger the immortal by attempting to tickle them away (not after his snarled "Don’t you dare.")

MK's attempt at scaring them away was... laughable. Literally, instead of scaring Macaque the young man just sent him into a fit of laughter that only seemed to make him both even more exhausted and grateful for the short bit of amusement.

"Well now what?" Tang asked, checking off each attempt on a sheet of paper. "We've tried almost everything."

Macaque hiccuped again, groaning in exhaustion and covering one of his eyes with his cloak hood up to hide... whatever was on his face he didn't want anyone to see. No one said anything about it, the sight of the other making them just feel too bad for him to push the issue for the moment.

"Maybe if I pass out from -hic- exhaustion they'll stop," he almost slurred, leaning even harder against the table. He had been dealing with this for 4 hours with little to no relief sight. He looked awful. "Just let me pass -hic- out."

"No way!" Pigsy said firmly, helping Mei look up more cures on her phone. "What if they don't stop? You could fall through the floor again and we are not having-!"

Pigsy never got to finish that sentence because one second Macaque was alone at the table looking miserable.

The next Wukong was standing behind him and jabbed two of his fingers on either side of his neck.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Macaque snapped after a yell of pain, breathing heavy as he clutched his chest and glowered at the Monkey King. "How long have you been standing there, Wukong!?"

"Only long enough to know that all of you didn't see me," Wukong said with a smirk, gesturing with his hand to the other immortal. "Hmn... sounds... awful quiet now... don't you think?"

Macaque paused, a look of confusion crossing his face before he realized... he wasn't hiccuping anymore. He stayed quiet for a moment, everyone did...

And no sound came aside from everyone's breathing.

"That actually worked!" MK shouted in relief, moving to hug Macaque in his excitement before realizing who he was hugging and letting go with an awkward chuckle.

"I know it's been centuries," Wukong said, face softening with a sad smile as his words continued. "But I remembered that worked for you... back then. You could have asked me for help, Mango."

"... yeah... thanks, Peaches," Macaque said slowly, looking at him with an almost suspicious gaze for a moment before he frowned oddly and stood to wander off. "I'm... going back to bed."

The group watched Macaque make his way to the hallway, movements slow and sluggish from his odd endeavor.

"Sleep well!" Mei suddenly shouted after him. "You deserve some rest after that!"

He paused just long enough to nod before heading on his way.

"You gonna explain any of that, Peaches?" Pigsy asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "The heck did you do anyway?"

"Compressed his wind pipe and scared him half to death," Wukong answered with a shrug. "It was the only thing that worked when we were... friends. And no, I don't want to explain. Not until he wants to."

No one said anything to that, just nodded in silent agreement.

When Macaque woke up the glamors were back up and where they used to be... except, Pigsy noted, whatever had originally been concealing the dark circles under his eyes.

He also noted how when Mei asked how he sleept he sounded more honest than he had since joining them.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gen fic #humor fic #BUT THEN FEELS #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #sandy #pigsy #tang

142 notes · View notes

witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Note

Geralt in 21 with partner of your choice for the lingerie prompts!!

I hope we’re feeling Geralt X Eskel tonight bc I wanted to write Eskel v badly.

"Maybe it's a bad idea," Geralt mumbles, twisting to look at his ass in the mirror. Objectively, he looks good, but fear and self-doubt creep into his mind anyway. Outside the bedroom door, Eskel sighs.

"Can I just see it so I can give you an honest opinion? Not one tainted by your horrific self-loathing."

Geralt takes another look at himself, resists the urge to sigh, and steps away from the mirror. If it was anyone else but Eskel, he'd lock the door and undress before going back out, but he trusts Eskel. And tonight, he's hoping Eskel is a better judge than he. He takes a deep breath as he steps out into the living room and as soon as Eskel's eyes are on him, he deflates. He feels stupid.

"I'm just gonna change," he mumbles, but Eskel reaches out to stop him.

"Don't. He'll love it."

"Are you sure?"

Eskel nods slowly, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "You look… incredible. Only an idiot wouldn't love you in this."

Geralt doesn't believe him, but he trusts Eskel's judgement. He slips back into his room, closing the door behind him (although there's not much left that Eskel hasn't seen tonight) and turns to his closet to pick out what to wear.

Lingerie aside, he's looking forward to tonight. Vernon is… something. But it's not like Geralt is going to marry him or anything. He wants to fuck him, though and tonight is the fourth time they've been out, so he's optimistic - hence the wardrobe choice.

He leaves the house just after five with enough time to get to the restaurant before their 5:30 reservation.

By six, he's sat in the underground parking with his head on the steering wheel.

He feels like an idiot to have assumed this was going anywhere. And yeah, maybe he wasn't as into the guy as he should have been, but being turned down outright still fucking sucks. And to make matters worse, all he can feel is the press of the straps digging into his skin. It's irritating, maddeningly so, and only serves to remind him of how fucking stupid he was to think someone might want him. But he can't go upstairs because Eskel will be there and he'll ask why he's home so early and Geralt will have to tell him. And the only thing worse than being stood up and having to come home and take off the lingerie he bought specifically for tonight (an already embarrassing experience) is having to admit to your best friend that it happened.

Geralt groans and squeezes his eyes shut, banging his head against the steering wheel. If he just stays down here long enough, Eskel will never know. He'll think he went out and had a great time and came home. It's what he usually does. But factoring time for dinner, sex, and potential conversation afterwards? He'll be stuck down here for hours. Which is not at all how he intended to spend his night.

He picks his phone up off the passenger seat and makes to get out of the car, but there's one unread message that catches his eye and he opens it quickly, hoping it's Roche. It's Eskel, because of course, it is, hoping that his night goes well. Geralt just groans at the screen before locking it and shoving his phone in his pocket where it can't taunt him.

When he gets up to their shared apartment, he waits again before letting himself in. Only for a few minutes, only to try and hear if Eskel is in the living room. But there's no sound coming from within, so he pushes the door open and sneaks to his bedroom. But as the door is clicking shut, Eskel calls out.

"Geralt?"

Fuck.

"Geralt, is that you? What are you doing home?"

"Uh- change of plans," he mumbles. He wants to make up an excuse, to say he's not feeling well or something came up, but he can't form the words. Instead, he flops onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling, which is where Eskel finds him a moment later.

"What happened?" he asks gently. Geralt shrugs and sighs.

"Don't know." He does know. It's the same thing that happens every time, but he knows Eskel doesn't like when he talks badly about himself, so Geralt keeps quiet. "Just didn't show."

His skin prickles and he shuts his eyes. Just for once, he'd like to be good enough for someone. For someone to want to be with him. He's always the one setting the dates or reaching out to start with and he doesn't know why he bothers because it never goes well for him. The best he gets is Eskel's sympathy and a bottle of gin to come home to.

"Asshole," Eskel mutters, "doesn't deserve you anyway. You can do better." Geralt scoffs, but Eskel persists and eventually, Geralt just tunes it out because one day Eskel will realize that he is inherently unlovable, that he's not worth the time to text and say hey I'm not showing up tonight.

"Thanks," he mumbles, but it's false.

"You wanna watch tv and drink vodka?"

For the first time in hours, Geralt smiles.

"You know I do."

Watching tv and drinking vodka turns into watching Jeopardy and drinking if you get the answer wrong. And the longer it goes on, the fewer answers either of them gets right. It's not until late that Geralt realizes he never got changed when he came home. He peels off his shirt, having spilled his drink on it, and the black straps are there, crisscrossing across his chest and reminding him he's an idiot. Which is a shame really because the piece itself is nice and now he'll never get a chance to enjoy it properly.

"S nice," Eskel mumbles next to him. Geralt looks up to see what he's talking about and finds Eskel looking back at him. "Vernon's a fuckin' idiot turning you down in that." Geralt huffs a humourless laugh.

"You're drunk," he shrugs, "and you're s'posed to say shit like that when I'm having a bad day."

"True though. Wish you didn't think so badly of yourself all the time. You're hot, Geralt, simple as that. You're the only one who doesn't see it." Geralt pauses for a second, decides he's misheard, and shrugs it off. He picks the bottle up off the table, takes a large drink, and passes it to Eskel who sighs, but takes it anyway.

But over the next half hour, he catches Eskel looking at him. And not just glancing over at him, but really looking at him in a way that makes the skin on the back of his neck prickle.

"What?" he asks finally, his anxiety getting the better of him. "What's wrong?"

"Just thought you'd have taken it off by now, thought you'd wanna be comfortable."

"It is?" Geralt says simply and Eskel purses his lips and nods.

"Can I touch it?" Eskel looks up at him earnestly and Geralt would be an idiot to say no to him now. He nods slowly and Eskel reaches out, tracing the lines of the leather. His fingers slip, brushing against his skin, Geralt pretends not to notice.

He shifts to get more comfortable, turning to face Eskel and leaning into the couch cushions. And Eskel grows bolder, slipping his fingers into the rings joining the straps and tugging gently, letting the leather lift from his skin before releasing it. Geralt shudders the first time he does it and that only seems to encourage Eskel.

One warm hand presses against his chest, slipping down to the button on his jeans. Eskel turns it between his fingers for a moment before looking up at him.

"Should take these off," he hums, "let me see the rest."

"You saw the rest earlier."

"Not like this."

To Geralt's drunk mind, it seems like sensible reasoning, so he quickly unbuttons his jeans and pushes them to the floor. He feels suddenly exposed in only leather straps and a lacy thong, but Eskel is transfixed. He runs a hand up Geralt's thigh and Geralt shudders under the warmth of it. The room is cold, his skin breaking out in goosebumps now that he's mostly bare, but Eskel's palm is warm where it slides against his skin and Geralt closes his eyes at the feeling.

He stops where the leather digs into Geralt's thighs, pressing his thumb beneath it and following the line along. Geralt is only partially aware of the way his pulse spikes, the way his skin prickles under Eskel's touch, but he knows that he likes it, so he doesn't tell him to stop.

"Geralt." Geralt opens his eyes and looks up to find Eskel looking back at him, his expression soft. "Can I kiss you?"

Geralt's mind whirls to try and catch up with what it's evidently missed. He doesn't even realize he's nodding, and then Eskel's mouth is on his own, soft and warm, and he can't think about anything else. His fingers slip instinctively into Eskel's hair and Geralt finds himself laid back against the arm of the couch as Eskel fits himself between his thighs.

He's wearing sweatpants and the softness of the fabric feels amazing in contrast to the leather wrapped around his thighs. Geralt nearly groans when Eskel shifts forward, but then his attention is refocused to where Eskel's hand settles on his pec, fingers slipping under the leather straps. Eskel breaks the kiss just long enough to mumble fuck, before pressing into his neck and kissing under his jaw.

"D'you have any fucking idea how you look in this?" he mumbles, "christ Geralt, you're stupid beautiful." Geralt starts at that. No one has ever called him beautiful before. On occasion, he's been called hot, but he knows it's just his body they're interested in. When Eskel calls him beautiful, it feels like something more.

"You're drunk," he accuses and Eskel laughs against his skin.

"But so are you. Drunk and beautiful." Eskel shifts down the couch, pressing soft kisses down Geralt's chest until he reaches his nipples. "Fuck. You just put 'em on display like this?" he groans, "what's a man supposed to do with himself, Geralt?"

Geralt squirms under the praise, but he shuts his eyes, focusing instead of the brush of Eskel's lips, the warm wetness where his tongue peeks out from between his lips. He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about Eskel this way, but Eskel was always just one more in a long line of people who would rather just be friends. So Geralt doesn't think about it. Much. On occasion, he'll imagine what might have been if they'd met at a different time, or on nights when nothing else is going right, he'll picture him above him as he jerks off, inevitably falling asleep guilty and ashamed.

But he never expected anything like this.

Eskel sucks a nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue at the numb and Geralt lets out a shaky moan, shifting his hips beneath him. The sensation goes straight to his cock and he realizes belatedly that he's half hard. It's not until Eskel readjusts himself that Geralt realizes he's also only wearing a tiny, lacy thong and that it was barely covering him to begin with.

His worries go unnoticed by Eskel who is now sitting sideways, one arm under Geralt's back and the other slipping slowly down his chest, catching on each of the straps as it goes. He stops abruptly and Geralt hears a little hum before Eskel's leaning back up to him, nosing under his jaw.

"You're already so hard," he groans, "can I touch you?"

"Please," Geralt whispers.

There's no hesitation as Eskel's palm cups his cock, first over the lace, then quickly pushing beneath it to wrap a hand around him. He strokes him slowly, working him up to full hardness in no time at all and then he's ducking down and wrapping his lips around the head of his cock. Geralt whispers and bucks and when he looks down, the hand that was on his cock is now shoved down Eskel's sweatpants.

"Let me see," he breathes and Eskel shoves the pants down without so much as wavering in his ministrations.

Once he catches sight of Eskel's cock, he can't look away. He watches the way it slips between his fingers with fascination, imagining his own hand around him, his mouth around him.

"Fuck me," he says and Eskel pulls off his cock to stare at him.

"You want me?"

Geralt nods and leans in to kiss him again, sighing softly against Eskel's lips before pulling away. "Yes. Always, please."

Eskel doesn't hesitate, wrapping his arms around Geralt's waist and kissing him soundly as he pulls him up into his lap. When he shifts his hips, Geralt can feel the thick length of Eskel's erection through the lace and it only makes him want him more. He nips at his lips, kisses him hard and Eskel laughs softly against his mouth.

"Fuck, you're really somethin' aren't you."

"Lube," Geralt grumbles. He shifts to move, but Eskel stops him. When Geralt looks up, he looks embarrassed then he shoves a hand down the side of the couch and Geralt realizes why.

For whatever reason, there's a bottle of lube stashed between the cushions and he offers Eskel a questioning look.

"Full disclosure?" Eskel shrugs, "I couldn't get the thought of you all wrapped up in that out of my head. I was gonna jerk off while you were gone to try and get it out of my system but then you came home."

"Mm," Geralt hums, "good thing I did."

He kisses him again, slow and deep, taking the bottle from Eskel's hands and flicking it open. He pours probably more than he needs to into Eskel's hand then drops the bottle again, uncaring as Eskel's fingers press back between his cheeks. Eskel makes no attempt to remove the thong, just slips his fingers beneath it and presses against him.

Eskel makes quick work of opening him up, fucking into him with thick fingers and kissing the moans from Geralt's lips. When he fucks him, it's quick and hard and neither of them is sober enough to have much finesse, but it's good. It's the first time in maybe years that Geralt remembers genuinely enjoying himself during sex and when they're finished, he collapses against Eskel's chest and just stays there.

Warm arms wrap around him and Eskel kisses his shoulders and slowly, they both drift off to sleep.

In the morning, Geralt wakes up alone with a pounding headache and something digging into his skin. As he looks down at himself, at the straps barely covering his skin, everything rushes back to him and he feels sick. Fuck.

He shouldn't have given in, should have said no to Eskel's advances. But he was in a bad place and he wanted. He still wants him, but evidently, Eskel was just horny and drunk. Mark him down as another who doesn't want to stay. Geralt wants to go back to bed, to call Yen and ask her to drag him out to do anything but stay at home in the apartment, but he supposes this is something that should be dealt with sooner rather than later.

He barely makes it to his feet before Eskel comes downstairs. He's dressed in only his sweatpants, hung low on his hips, and Geralt groans internally.

"I'm sorry," he blurts and at the exact same time, Eskel says "I've got the bath running." To which, Geralt doesn't have a response.

"You first," Eskel says tentatively. Geralt sighs.

"I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have-" he cuts himself off, failing to put his thoughts into words.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. It's just… I've been up for half an hour making breakfast and running a bath and I didn't account for regretting what happened last night." Eskel smiles up at him and Geralt's shoulders slump. Sometimes he hates how well Eskel knows him, but this morning he's glad for it.

Eskel steps up close, reaching around to undo the clasps at the back of Geralt's neck and gently tugging the lingerie down until it falls in a pile on the floor. The thong goes next and Geralt doesn't say a word as Eskel's hands settle on his hips.

"Bath, breakfast, and then we're going to sit down and talk about this," he breathes, "but don't think for a second that I'm gonna let you worry yourself out of this. Last night was good. You were- you are beautiful. Go upstairs and I'll be up in a minute if you want?"

Geralt isn't sure exactly how Eskel thinks he's going to fit the both of them into their bathtub, but he isn't going to let that stop him from trying.

"Okay," he whispers. Eskel smiles and tips forward, stopping at the last moment, but Geralt leans in to close the space, kissing him softly. He loses himself for a moment in the slide of Eskel's lips against his own and he doesn't realize he's being pulled forward until he shifts his hips and presses against Eskel's cock, hard in his sweats.

"Bath, breakfast, talk," Eskel repeats, breathless, "after that I'd like to keep you in my bed for a week."

As far as ideas go, Geralt thinks it's a damn good one.

lingerie prompts~

#sorry about... all of this #geralt x eskel #v spicy #rex writes #modern au #multiplelizards

205 notes · View notes

preciousprentiss · 2 years

Text

Prompts of Hotchniss - Chapter Eleven

I thought we could all do with a little happiness after I posted two chapters of Taking the Long Way, so I decided to post this little gem! Please enjoy these two being the little dorks in love that they are. It’s a long one, but pure fluff ahead!

Prompt: Person A is upset with Person B because they think they have forgotten their anniversary, but Person B has actually been planning a surprise for them for weeks / Person A and Person B get engaged.

“Dave, please tell me that everything for tonight is sorted.” Aaron pleads, leaning back in his chair as Rossi sits down.

“More or less,” Rossi nods. “The people are coming to set up the gazebo at around one, so I’ll take a late lunch to let them in.”

“I never thought I would be the kind of person to hide from someone, but I’ve been sat in here since quarter-past seven because Em thinks I’ve forgotten our anniversary and she’ll kill me if I go out there and keep this up,” He runs a hand over his face. “After we put the kids to bed last night, we watched a movie on the couch and she asked me if I was excited about today. Because I’m an actual idiot and I don’t think before I speak, instead of downplaying it a little, I said that I didn’t think a 6am bureau meeting was something to look forward to. You should have seen her face. She proceeded to ask if it was a joke, but I just carried on and said that I didn’t understand why she’d think I would joke about not being overly excited for the meeting. I’ve done it this time.”

Rossi looks at him in silence for a second. “She hates you, doesn’t she?”

“I’m not her favourite person at this moment in time, no,” He shakes his head. “I did think about coming clean about it when we woke up, but then I figured she would have slapped me anyway for being an idiot and so I decided not to. She hasn’t spoken to me since we went to bed, she only looks at me to glare at me and part of me is genuinely worried she’ll turn around and say no just to get back at me for this when I propose later. Garcia and Morgan will probably film the whole thing too, so that’s brilliant.”

“You would deserve it though, let’s be honest.” Rossi shrugs.

“Whose side are you on? It was supposed to be romantic, it just…it just backfired a little.” He tells him with a frown.

Rossi rises from his chair with a sigh. “Buy the poor woman some flowers and beg for her forgiveness. You’re dead if you don’t.”

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dave.”

“Any time, Hotch. Any time.”

He sits in his chair for a couple of minutes longer once Rossi has left the room, thinking about what he said, before he pushes a hand through his hair and leaves his desk to wander over to the door. He stops in the doorway and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Emily sit at her desk and chew on the end of her pen, and his heart sinks when he realises she isn’t furious anymore. She just looks hurt, heartbroken at the thought of him forgetting something as important as their anniversary when they’ve been together for four years and have a lovely little girl back at home, and he hates himself for it. He had only intended for it to be a bit of fun, but he realises now that he took his little joke way too far and he has to put it right.

Of course, he isn’t going to spoil the surprise after planning it for so long, but he needs to do something to cheer her up.

“Prentiss, my office for a minute, please.” He tells her, not about to have this sort of conversation in front of all their co-workers.

“I’m a bit busy right now.” She replies while writing something down in her notepad.

“Yeah, well it’ll have to wait because that was an order.” He shrugs.

She lifts her head and glares at him then, her pen balanced between her fingers, but still pushes her chair back after a couple of seconds and makes her way up the stairs towards him with her hands on her hips. He steps aside to let her enter his office once she reaches him and she walks over to the couch as he closes the door and sets about turning the blinds up. He know that some of their co-workers would try and stick their noses into their business. She’s already gotten comfortable on the couch when he turns around to look at her again. “Make it quick,” She tells him as she brushes her hair out of her face. “I have lots to do today.”

“I didn’t forget.” He says.

“What?” She asks as she takes one of the cushions from the couch and pulls it into her lap.

“Our…our anniversary,” He straightens his tie a little. “I didn’t forget and I can’t believe you actually thought I would.”

“You haven’t mentioned our anniversary once over the past few weeks and when I asked if you were excited about it last night, you started talking about that stupid meeting this morning,” She reminds him, the irritation returning in her voice as she stares at him. “There was no card when I woke up this morning. You didn’t make me breakfast in bed like you have done the past three years and you didn’t kiss me when I came downstairs! I’m not sure why you suddenly think our anniversary is a joke, but it’s not to me and I’m not sure what else you expected me to believe after all of that. Why would you do that to me? You really hurt me.”

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, he drops his head a little. “I know I did, Em, and I apologise. I’m just an idiot and I sometimes forego thinking before I act. For the past couple of months, I’ve been planning something for tonight because I want it to be special and I thought it would be awesome if I pretended to have forgotten our anniversary all day only to surprise you. I never thought it would hurt you this much and I didn’t consider how much of a risk it would be, so I pulled you in here so I could apologise. I should have gone about this a whole other way, I know that now and all I ask is that you forgive me because the last thing I want is for things to be awkward between us all day. I love you, Em. I love you so much and I swear to you I’ll prove that.”

She watches him stand by the door for a minute-or-two before setting down the cushion and standing from the couch, her arms crossing over her chest as she walks towards him before she slides her hands inside his jacket and draws him close by the waist. “I must be as much of an idiot as you because only an idiot would let you off the hook for what you did,” She smiles as she looks up at him and allows him to smooth a hand over her hair, the two of them laughing together before she presses her face into his chest and feels him kiss the top of her head. “I could beat the life out of you right now and not feel the slightest bit sorry, but I’m not going to do that because you spent so long working on my surprise and I want to see what it is. I’ll just kill you if it sucks, deal?”

“Deal, but only because I know for a fact you’ll love it.” He smiles when she lifts her head to look at him again.

“Give me a hint?” She asks.

“You have no chance.” He shakes his head while his hands roam over her back.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

She rises onto her tiptoes and kisses him slowly. “Please…?”

“You can do that as much as you like, seriously,” He kisses her once more. “But the answer, I’m afraid, will still be no.”

She pouts. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I never said I didn’t love you. I love you, but I hate you in equal measure.”

“I guess I can live with that,” He hums before taking her face in his hands through her hair. “Come here, you beautiful creature.”

She goes to him without the slightest hesitation and grasps his shirt in her hands as she presses her lips to his own again, one of his hands moving to the back of her head to hold her in place. The kiss is warm and deep, the two of them savouring every little second of it as she wraps her arms around his waist and he combs his fingers through her hair, but someone knocks on the door before they have the chance to lose themselves in it completely and they groan as they part. “I should probably get a bit of work done anyway, I really do have a ton of stuff to get through this morning and I could do without having Strauss on my case,” She admits as she wipes her lipstick from his lips with her thumb, smirking when he kisses the pad of it. “I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?”

“I look forward to it.” He nods before leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.

“Me too. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He assures her before turning in place and opening the door to reveal Rossi standing on the other side.

“Oh, hey, Dave.” Emily smiles as she walks past him on her way out of the office.

“Hi, Emily,” Rossi replies before he and Aaron watch her walk back down the stairs to her desk. “So, you two made up then?”

Aarons hums. “Yeah. I mean, we were in the same room for ten minutes and I’m still alive.”

“I’d say you’re good,” Rossi pats him on the arm while following him into his office. “Planned out your little speech for tonight?”

“One step at a time, Dave,” Aaron chuckles nervously, running a hand across the back of his neck. “One step at a time…”

--------

Returning to his normal height once he’s done Jack’s tie and turned down the collar on his shirt, Aaron runs a hand over his hair and smiles. “I’ll head upstairs and see if Emmy and Soph are ready soon, bud there’s something that I want to talk to you about first,” He gestures to the couch with his head before sitting down and waiting for his son to sit down beside him. “You know that daddy will be asking Emmy to marry him after dinner tonight, I know, but I just want to make certain you’re still okay with that.”

Jack nods with the widest smile. “I love Emmy so much, daddy.”

“I know you do, buddy. I love her too and that’s why I want her to be my wife, but she won’t be just Emmy anymore when we get married and I need you to understand that it’ll be a huge deal,” Aaron explains. “Nothing will really change once we’re married – she’ll still have movie marathons with you and read you stories at bedtime, but she’ll be your stepmom and that might turn out to be something that takes you a while to get used to. I know you still miss your mommy and I do to. I think about her and what she did for us every day, so I never want you to think I’m replacing her with Emmy because I’m not. I’ll always love your mommy because she gave me you and you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, I mean that. She was amazing, Jack, really.”

“Will I have to call Emmy my mommy now? Or…or can I keep calling her Emmy?” Jack asks with a raise of his brow.

Aaron clears his throat and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “That’s something the two of you need to talk about because I can’t answer that question for her. She loves you though and she cares about your feelings more than her own, so I think she’ll go with whatever you feel most comfortable with. Whether that means you call her your mommy or just Emmy.”

“I’m so happy you’re asking her to marry you, daddy,” Jack beams as he cuddles closer to him. “She can’t leave now, can she?”

“Nope, that’s why I decided to do it,” Aaron smirks. “If she says yes tonight, she’ll be stuck with us forever.”

“Do you think she will say yes?” Jack asks.

“I hope so,” Aaron brushes his fringe from his forehead and kisses him there. “I should probably go and check on her and Soph. Remember though, the proposal is a surprise which means you can’t say a word about it to Emmy or Soph until dinner is done.”

He stands from the couch and makes his way out of the room when Jack runs a finger across his lips, promising him he’ll remain silent, and his heart pounds as he walks upstairs. He hates to admit it, but he’s nervous. He had been so certain he would never marry again when he lost Haley. He had sworn to himself that he would never risk so much a second time, not for anything, but then he had fallen hard for Emily and she had changed his mind. She was all he wanted. He’s considered marriage a lot over the past four years. He had considered popping the question when she had delivered their little girl, but he’d never had the courage to do so until now. Now, he’s almost certain she’ll agree to marry him and there are no words for how impatient he is to ask her.

She means more to him than she thinks and he’s determined to remind her of that every day for the rest of his life.

He wanders down the hall to their bedroom once he’s upstairs and knocks on the bedroom door, a gentle smile crossing his lips when Emily says he can enter before he opens the door and walks into the room. The moment he sees his girls, the intense love he has for the deepens. The two of them are wearing the matching dresses Emily bought a few days ago, the wine-red ones with the lace sleeves and high necklines, and Emily is busy attempting to wrangle their daughter’s dark curls into two French braids. “You know, sweet-pea, mommy could be wrong but something tells me your daddy likes our dresses.” Her voice pulls him from his thoughts and he shakes his head as he closes the door behind him and walks up behind her, his hands seeking out her waist.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” He says. “And mommy doesn’t look too bad either.”

“Oh, thanks for that,” She replies, sarcasm lacing her words before her breath hitches when he kisses her neck. “Is Jack ready?”

“Yeah, I left him watching cartoons on the couch. He can’t crease his suit doing that, I’m sure.” He chuckles.

“Honey, this is Jack we’re talking about. He only has to look at a suit and it’s creased.” She teases, looking at him in the mirror.

He winces and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Good point. We just won’t mention it and hope no-one notices. You excited?”

“Well, I would be,” She lifts Sophia from the chair in front of the dressing table and turns towards him, the two of them watching their sweet little girl toddle over to the other side of the room to find her doll before she looks him in the eye. “If I actually knew where you’re taking me. You – and everyone else for that matter – have been acting strange all day and I’m a little creeped out.”

“Not much of a surprise if I tell you where it is, now is it? You’ll love it though, Em, I promise you.” He smiles.

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it,” Her hands find his chest as she sighs. “You were kidding earlier, but do I look okay? I don’t…”

Before she has the chance to finish her sentence, he uses the hand on the small of her back to pull her close and catches her in a kiss. She hums as her hands move to the sides of his neck and she steps closer to him, her eyes opening again when he pushes a strand of brown hair back behind her ear. “You have never looked more incredible, I mean that, and I don’t care that you didn’t have time to curl your hair because you don’t have to. You could have had sweatpants on when I came in here and I would have thought the same because you are beautiful just the way you are and you don’t have to change a thing about yourself, my love.”

“You’re sweet…” She frowns. “But you’re never this sweet unless you want something from me. What is it?”

“Can’t a man compliment his girlfriend on their anniversary anymore?”

“Of course, but I’m a trained profiler and that means I know when you’re nervous. You’re keeping something from me.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” He chuckles as he tightens his hold of her. “What makes you think I am?”

“You cleared your throat and fixed your tie ten times today and those are your tells,” She points out. “You have a ton of them.”

He looks at her for a moment. “Fine, Prentiss, you think you’re so good? Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

“That if we don’t get the kids in the car in the next five minutes, we’ll be late.”

“You know, I second what you said earlier on. I love you, but I hate you in equal measure.”

“Nah, you just love me,” She kisses him and takes hold of his tie so she can lead him across the room. “Come on, Hotchner.”

She releases his tie to walk over to their daughter and pick her up when they reach the bedroom door, she and Sophia sharing a smile when she perches her on her hip and kisses her chubby cheek while she puts her arms around her neck. At nearly two, her little girl is starting to get too heavy to be picked up all the time, but she wants to make the most of every opportunity since she knows she’ll have her arms full again soon enough. She’s known about the baby for over a month and she’s debated telling her boyfriend so many times, but she hasn’t let it slip yet and she’s proud of herself for that. She’ll be letting him in on her secret at the end of the night and she honestly can’t wait to see his face. He’ll be thrilled, she knows that already, and she’s so impatient.

“This little baby is going to adore you,” She murmurs softly in Sophia’s ear. “You’re going to be the best sister in the world.”

Even though she knows her daughter has no idea what she’s talking about, she laughs when she grabs her hair and presses the clumsiest baby kiss to her cheek. Her precious little princess. There are no words for how much she loves her, there truly aren’t.

“You’re determined to make us late for this, aren’t you?” She hears her boyfriend tease from where he stands near the door.

“We’re coming!” She gives him a playful roll of her eyes before drawing their daughter closes as she makes her way over to him.

Warmth floods her body when he places a hand on her belly through her dress, keeping her from leaving the room, and her eyes fall closed when he stoops to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss. “What was that for?” She asks him when he pulls away again.

“I don’t actually know,” He laughs. “I just love you so much.”

“Aw, I love you too,” She rests a hand on his cheek and brushes her thumb against her skin. “We need to go. I’m starving.”

“Come on then.” He agrees, his hand settling on the small of her back as they leave their room and make their way downstairs.

--------

“Wait, I thought you were taking us out for dinner. What are we doing at Dave’s?” Emily asks as Aaron parks on the drive.

“There’s something I have to do first.” He tells her while killing the engine and taking out the key.

“The kids and I can wait in the car then. There’s no point in us all getting out.” She shakes her head.

“No, I think you should come in for this and it’ll be nice for Dave to see the kids. It’s been a while.” He points out.

She narrows her eyes at him. “What are you up to?”

“Would you quit asking me that question?” He groans, though there’s amusement in his eyes. “Come on. Out of the car.”

She sighs and unbuckles her seatbelt so she can step out of the car like he says, closing the passenger side door after her before opening the back one in order to help their little girl out of her car seat. She allows her to tuck her head into her neck while they wait for Aaron to help Jack out of the car and her gaze follows him as he walks around to them. “I know you hate me, but would you please just trust me? I meant it when I said you’ll love what I have planned for tonight.” He says as he rubs her back warmly.

“I suppose so.” She replies.

“Thank you.” He kisses her temple.

The two of them walk up the drive with Sophia and Jack then, Emily tightening her hold of their daughter and burying her nose in her hair when she cuddles closer to her, and Aaron knocks on the door when the four of them are standing on the doorstep. It doesn’t take long for Rossi to come to the door and let them in and he turns to them once he’s closed it again. “You can go right through to the backyard,” He exchanges a knowing glance with Aaron before smiling at Emily. “It’s all already set up out there.”

“What? What’s all out there?” Emily looks up at her boyfriend.

“Come and see for yourself.” He smirks.

Her heart races as she bounces Sophia while they walk down the hall to the French doors, but her breath hitches and her heart almost stops completely when they head outside and she sees all he’s done. There are the prettiest lights framing the fence and up in the trees, there’s a massive tent with a long table underneath that’s lined with food and drinks, Rossi’s old record player is playing in the corner of the garden and the whole team are standing there with glasses of champagne. For a while, she’s unable to move or speak, but she snaps out of it when Aaron wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. She blinks back tears as she looks up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You’re shaking,” His voice is gentle as he chuckles. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” She sniffs. “I just can’t believe you went to all this trouble for me.”

“It wasn’t just me. I had a lot of help from this lot,” He tells her. “But I wanted to do something special because you deserve it.”

“Thank you…” She whispers as she tilts her head back to brush two slow kisses against his lips.

When she pulls away, she laughs and rests her cheek against the side of Sophia’s head as she watches Garcia walk over to them. “You took your time! We literally thought you were never going to get here!” The technical analyst says, drawing her into a hug.

“I did tell her a hundred times.” Aaron mutters under his breath.

“You can shut up,” Emily scoffs and smacks his chest before turning back to Garcia. “I’m impressed you kept so quiet about it.”

“Well, someone threatened to take away my desk privileges if I spilled,” Garcia grumbles. “I need my unicorns to cope, Em.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Emily looks at Aaron for a minute. “You’re so cruel to her sometimes, you know that?”

“It kept her from spoiling the surprise, didn’t it?” He shrugs.

“Emmy? Daddy?” They look at Jack when he speaks. “Can Soph and I go and play with Henry and Michael, please?”

“Sure, you can,” Emily sets Sophia down on the grass and watches her toddle to her brother. “No roughhousing though, okay?”

Jack nods as he takes his little sister by the hand and leads her over to where Henry and Michael are kicking their ball around.

“So,” Aaron rests his hands on Emily’s waist and turns her to face him once Garcia has returned to the table to get another glass of champagne. “This morning, you said you would slap me if tonight sucked to get back at me for last night. Am I safe now, or?”

“Mmm…I’d say you’re safe,” She slips her arms around his neck. “You’re an idiot and you always will be, but I adore you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” He drops a kiss to her lips. “Trust me.”

--------

“I still can’t believe you spent three months planning all this and I never had a clue,” Emily shakes her head as she cuddles up to Aaron while the two of them stand together in the corner of the garden after dinner, her head on his shoulder while she watches their daughter sit in JJ’s lap and stuff her face with cake. “I wish I could say that I had an idea you were planning something like this so I don’t sound completely oblivious, especially since the entire team were in on it, but I literally had no clue whatsoever.”

“You weren’t meant to, so that’s good,” He squeezes her and kisses the side of her head before taking a second to breathe in her scent. “You’ll kill me for this, no doubt, but this party isn’t actually your main present. There’s one more thing I have planned.”

She tilts her head back with a groan. “You spoil me way too much. Okay, what is it?”

“Well, this is the thing. It’s not really something I’m giving to you,” He signals at Rossi as he stands by the record player and feels his heart pound when he stops the music and the team turn to him and Emily. Of course, Garcia and Morgan already have their phones out so that they can record the entire thing. No pressure there. Taking his arm from around her waist, he puts down his beer and reaches into his pocket before falling to one knee as he pulls out a small velvet box. “It’s something – if your answer is what I hope it’s going to be – you’ll give to me.”

“You can’t be serious,” She shakes her head violently as tears blur her vision, her hand clasping over her mouth as she lets out a sob when he opens the box to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring she’s ever seen. “Aaron, for goodness sake, my mascara!”

“I don’t care about your stupid mascara!” He chuckles with the rest of the team while taking her free hand in his. “You know, all I’ve been able to think about for the past few months is the perfect thing to say to you. I tried so many times to write a speech or something so that I had something to refer to, but I always ended up tossing it in the trash because I didn’t like it. The last time I tried though, after I had thrown that speech in the trash along with all the others, I finally realised why I was having such a hard time with it. It’s because there’s no one way to describe you and how much I adore you. You are, by far, the most unique, caring, incredible woman I have met and there are so many things I love about you, so any speech I wrote would never come to an end.”

She whimpers as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Four years ago, and I’m still not entirely convinced it wasn’t due to how out of it you were thanks to all the pain meds you were on, you agreed to give us a shot when I told you I was in love with you and asked where we were headed. Two months later, we had out first date and never looked back. I’m not sure what I expected to happen for us back then, but I never thought we would have two amazing kids and own a house together this far down the line. I planned on doing this when Soph was born. I wanted to ask you right there in the hospital room because I had never loved you as much as I did in that moment, but I decided not to and I suppose I knew it was too soon. When the thought came to me again a few months ago though, I just knew I had to do it.”

He feels her hand tremble in his as tears stream down her face and he brushes his thumb against her knuckles to sooth her.

“I was putting Jack to bed one night and he told me he was worried that you would leave us one day. He asked me if there was a way for me to make that impossible,” He admits with a smile. “I suppose this is just my way of making it impossible to leave us, Em. I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore and I don’t want to. You are my life. This is going to sound so stupid, but I wake up to you in the morning and all I can think about is how lucky I am. Our lives are anything but ordinary and so are we, so it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be really hard and we’ll have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, Em, forever, you and me, every day. I love you more than I can put into words and I hope you realise that.”

“I think the fact that you just took most of that from The Notebook is enough proof,” She chokes out. “You hate that movie.”

He nods. “I can’t stand it, but I know you love it and so I had to include it in here somewhere.”

The two of them share a smile and he kisses the back of her hand before taking a deep breath.

“I could stay down here and talk until sunrise, but I would still end up asking you the same question and so I’m just going to ask you now to save my knees,” He smirks. “Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes…” Her answer comes out as a breath before he takes the ring from the box and eases it onto her fingers. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Once he’s tucked the box back into his pocket and found his feet again, he takes her by the waist and draws her close so that he can catch her in a deep kiss while the team clap and cheer. The two of them let the kiss linger for a time once all the commotion has settled down, Emily taking his face in her hands as she kisses him once more and pulls away. “You’re certain you want this?”

“I’m certain.”

“You can’t go back, you know.”

“I don’t want to go back,” He assures her. “Not now, not ever.”

--------

It’s late when the two of them are slow-dancing to Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley, a favourite song of theirs and one they love to dance to when the kids head to bed early and they have an evening to themselves, and Emily smiles as she nuzzles further into his neck when his hold of her tightens. She’s been on cloud nine since he proposed. Such a contrast to how sad she had felt earlier on, thinking he had stopped caring and forgotten their anniversary. She knows she should never have let doubt creep in though. He loves her so much, he reminds her of that every day in so many different ways, and there’s no chance of him ever forgetting something like that. It was probably just these stupid pregnancy hormones of hers. She really can’t stand them.

Thinking about them, she tilts her head back and looks up at her fiancé – it feels so strange but in the best way to thinks of him as such – and butterflies fill her stomach when he looks at her. “That’s a nice smile,” He murmurs as he presses his forehead to hers, his thumb drawing delicate circles onto the small of her back while they continue to sway together. “What’s it for though?”

“Nothing much,” She says. “I, uh…I just remembered I have a bit of a surprise of my own for you.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow at her.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to wait a while because it’s not ready yet.” She has to fight to keep herself from laughing.

His brow furrows with confusion. “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

“Let’s just say that, depending on when we have this wedding, there might just be three of us up there when we say our vows.”

“You’re pregnant? We’re having another baby? Em, are we?”

“Shh!” She whispers as she covers his mouth with her hand. “I want it to be our little secret for the time being, but yes.”

“Oh, I can’t believe it,” He eases a hand between them and rests it on her belly. “You’re both okay, right? No complications?”

She shakes her head. “No complications. I’ve known for about a month now and there isn’t long until my next scan.”

He has to blink back the tears in his eyes as he brushes a curl out of her face. “This is the best gift in the world. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” She kisses him. “For giving me everything I always dreamed of…”

29 notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 3 years

Note

Hello!! Congratulations on your 1,500 followers!!! I was wondering if you could write hc's with the Demon brothers reacting or helping MC with daddy issues(if possible specifically the kinds with an absent father). If possible please make the female MC, but if you would prefer to make it Gender Natural than its awesome as well!! Thank you very much for your awesome work!!💖💖

A F!MC has an Absent Father (Mammon, Beel, Asmo, and Lucifer)

Okay, so this was a pretty tough request (part of the reason why I'm getting to it so late). Having an absent father can lead to a lot of different (very sensitive) issues for their daughters and I always want to try and be as respectful as possible while still producing accurate content… So instead of my usual 7 brothers format, I'll be shortening this to the brothers that I think could best handle the situation at hand. As always, I will try my best to be respectful to those who may be experiencing these struggles, but if anything I say comes across as harmful or triggering please let me know right away. I'll take down/edit the post if need be. Thank you.

Warnings: Absent Fathers, Eating Disorders, Body Image Problems, Depression, Abandonment, Divorce

Mammon

What kind of Dad wants nothing to do with his kids?? From Day One, Mammon just couldn't understand it...

Admittedly, he might have been a little biased. Ever since he watched his baby brothers grow up, he'd always had a little soft spot for anklebiters in general… They made for pretty sweet kids compared to their rude, spitfire-y current selves (even Satan had his moments). Mammon could see that same innocence in a lot of kids, human, angel, or demon.

So when the MC revealed to him that her own father walked out on her mother before she was born, he was just slightly (incredibly) outraged.

Though he'd like to believe the guy had his reasons for leaving, it just didn't sit right with him… Especially after getting to know the MC so well and seeing that she was such a great person!

Hadn't the guy been curious about her at all? Didn't he care?? What was stopping him now?? (You know, aside from being on a completely different plane of existence and all that. Like that would stop Marlin from finding Nemo… Yeah, he likes Pixar. What of it?)

Some people might have gone as far as to say that Mammon was waaay more upset about it than she was herself, which was nice but well… his heart was in the right place.

It was around the time when he offered to track the guy down, hogtie him, then leave him to drown in the 4th Circle that she had to take him aside and explain that, though she appreciated his anger on her behalf, she didn't need him to crusade for her…

She ultimately told him that if he really wanted to help, he could love her and be there for her. Words that he not only took it to heart, but he took very seriously.

She’d never had anyone be as reliable or faithful as Mammon was after that point. As far as he was concerned, he could be what her father never was for her: loving, caring, and present for no other reason than because he loved her!

You know, like you're supposed to be for the people you hold dear...

True, he didn’t always say the right things nor did he always manage to solve every problem for her when he tried to help but he never stopped trying to make her feel loved. He'd spend every Grimm he'd ever had if he had to. She deserved it.

Beelzebub

When you love someone, you usually want to get to know more about them. Things like their past… So it wasn’t unusual for Beel to ask the MC about her home back in the human world, especially after he shared his own past with Lilith and his brothers.

Unfortunately (or fortunately he'd suppose, depending on how you look at it), the intricacies of divorce were a little new to him... Sure, he knew what marriage was and that relationships can fail, but to be frank, he grew up in a very different sort of situation than that of humans.

He didn't even have a mother, much less and traditional father-son relationship. Lucifer filled in that spot for him like he had for everyone else and they left their father of their own accord...

But something about the way the MC talked about how her father left felt… upsetting. She seemed to use different sorts of tones when talking about the whole thing... At first, she spoke it with blank apathy, but then it changed to bitterness, then lastly… sadness. Like she was regretful about something that, for as far as he could tell, was completely out of her control…

He didn't want to pry into her past much more for that reason... Though he could tell something about it had hurt her, probably deeply, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable so he just waited for her to come to him instead...

And in time, she did.

And ever the patient listener, Beel let her get it all off her chest. He could tell that she felt a lot of different ways about it, and most of them weren’t positive, but he was never one to tell people how to feel about anything. Thinking back on it, he supposed that he’d feel pretty bad too if Lucifer just left the family one day, but even that wasn’t quite the same thing…

What he knew for certain was that it hurt him to see her so upset and, for once, he wasn’t really sure how to fix it… Can you even “fix” these things? Since he didn’t know the answers he just made a simple promise to himself in order to help make things better...

He probably couldn’t bring her father back, nor could he make his absence hurt any less, but he could be there for her instead. Not like a father, obviously, but as someone who could always love her whether or not she felt she needed it...

And from then on, he let his actions so the talking.

If she was upset and needed comfort, Beel was there. If she was feeling lonely or unloved, he’d be the first to notice and hold her close. Even if she tried to push him away to protect herself from any pain, he wouldn't just abandon her. He'd wait patiently for her to be ready to let him in.

He might not have known all the answers for her, but he wasn't going to let her feel all alone… He made sure of that.

Asmodeus

If he were telling the truth, Asmo was already pretty familiar with this sort of thing. Everybody has "Daddy Issues," himself included, and affects people in a lot of different ways in or outside the bedroom.

Which is why he found it particularly disheartening when he noticed some signs in his beloved MC…

The MC had once confided in him that her relationship with her father was… distant. Though he was physically in the family, she never felt like she could talk to him or get to know him… In a sense, he was never as involved in her life as he probably should have been.

That alone wasn't very uncommon for human families, or so he's heard, heck between his Heavenly-but-Distant Father and his Not-as-Distant-but-Always-Busy Brotherly Surrogate, he could even relate… but it was how she seemed to cope that concerned him…

Something about her self-esteem just wasn't where it needed to be…

Of course, Asmo's not one to get on a high horse and preach that looks don't actually mean anything (he's a demon, not a hypocrite) but there's a big difference between practicing self-love and falling victim to self-critique… There’s wanting to look your best because it brings you personal joy to do so, then there’s constantly worrying about rejection when you don't look so nice… He's seen it all before.

Truthfully, it was a painful cycle to witness… the eating and then the starving… the hours she’d spend in front of the mirror or her bitter tears after a "bad" selfie… It made his heart ache uncontrollably just to think about it…

So of course he intervened, he simply had to. Not only was it unhealthy for her but it could have brought his darling so much lasting pain in the long run...

When he finally spoke to the MC, he tried to be as gentle as he could while still expressing his concerns… He told her that he noticed the way she had been acting and that he was worried about her… He genuinely believed that she indeed deserved love with no strings attached. She didn’t need to “prove herself” worthy of it for him or any of his brothers because they would be there for her regardless of what she looked like.

It wasn’t a cure-all. obviously, but never thought it would be. It would take her time to learn how to express love for herself or feel secure that he wouldn’t just start ignoring her one day… but Asmo was nothing if not a caring and patient lover.

He tracked down places and people who could help her with her struggles and what they couldn’t offer he picked up on himself through perseverance, persistence, and a lot of research. He had his heart set on helping her and that was exactly what he planned to do.

Asmo wasn’t going to stop until she believed that she was honestly, genuinely loved... And that was a promise.

Lucifer

Lucifer picked up that there was something a little different about the human early on, even before he was ever told that her father passed away when she was young. She seemed… particularly fond of him.

He didn’t think much of it at first, but over time it started getting more and more apparent that she gravitated to him for one reason or another… She’d hover around him, bring him things while he worked, or act out like she wanted his attention (not completely unlike Satan or Belphie in that regard).

If he were being honest, it flattered him some, but the more he began to think about it the more… uncomfortable it made him for reasons he couldn’t quite place…

Eventually he gave in and had to run the problem by Barbatos just for a little clarity (he figured the butler could be discreet about it) and that’s when the connection between him and the MC’s deceased father finally came to light.

There was no real way to sugarcoat it other than to say that she seemed to think of him as… a surrogate Dad of sorts… Which didn’t exactly ease his concerns at all.

Though he was probably the most “fatherly” person in the House (having more or less become the unofficial father figure to his brothers for centuries), those were still his brothers. He had a large part in actually raising them. The MC was not only a human, but patently not his child. He truly had grown to love her over their time together but that was a very different kind of love…

Something about the situation rubbed him the wrong way… Would he be taking advantage of the MC’s past if he were to try and be with her like he wanted…? Sure, he may be demonic, but he’s not heartless. He only wanted what was best for her and he wasn’t quite sure that was him for once…

While he was still mulling over his feelings, the MC finally jumped the gun and asked him if they could start dating. He knew that it would hurt her (and him) if he said no but he also couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t a problem here…

So he compromised. He agreed to the relationship, but told her that he wanted to take things slow… He was open about his concerns that she may not love him for the reasons she thought she did, which wasn’t the most pleasant conversation to have but it seemed like the one she needed to hear.

It encouraged him that she didn’t appear to reject him outright when he brought it up, nor was she completely broken up about the pace he wanted to set for them, which was a good sign.

He offered to find her people to talk to about her concerns, particularly around her upbringing, at no cost to her. He thinks humans call them… therapists? Whatever they were, he didn’t doubt that they were better equipped to help than he was.

He tried his best to make it clear that he was only concerned because he loved her so deeply that he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t using her trauma for his own ends... She deserved better than that and he wasn’t afraid to tell her such.

It ended up being a slow process to love for them both, but he’d never regret putting the MC’s wellbeing first. No matter what.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #tw: absent fathers #tw: eating disorders #tw: body image #tw: depression #tw: abandonment #tw: divorce

769 notes · View notes