#the first two came early but the third one was almost at hard pity so unless luke comes in like 30-40 :^((( rip

[thatlovinfeelin]

The Grudge | Jake Hangman Seresin |

Based off of The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo. Mentions of divorce and cheating.

Jake wasn’t always Hangman to you, there was once a time when he was something sweeter. Someone better. You loved that someone better. That’s the man you married, the man you wanted to have a family with. But then he changed, so slowly at first you didn’t even notice, then suddenly it seemed like overnight he was someone new. He wasn’t the sweet man you married in your early twenties. 

At first it was just missed dates, and voicemails left for him, begging him to call you back. At first it was simple, things you could overlook. He was busy at work, he got hung up, someone asked him to fly a little longer. Surely. 

“Jake? It’s me again…Where are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour, everyone is just looking at me with pity because they know I’ve been stood up. I’m the only one alone at a table for two…just…call me back? Please? Let me know you’re okay.” 

That was the third voicemail you left for him. You’d had a bottle of wine all by yourself while you waited. And when the sweet waiter came back even he had to put in his two cents. 

“I don’t think he’s coming ma’am,” He said softly. 

You had to choke back the tears as you nodded, it was your anniversary, you’d been planning this date for weeks. You had been so fucking excited to spend one night with him, all dressed up. 

“I’ll just take the check, thank you.” Your voice wavered. 

“It’s on the house,” The waiter waved you off, “I hope your night gets better.”

You left him a very generous tip before making your way outside. Your heels were digging into your feet and the shapewear you had on was making it difficult to breathe. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Jake left you waiting, and didn’t even call or text you to tell you he wasn’t coming. 

You tried to be tough. But all you wanted to do was scream and cry. 

Part of you wanted to pack a bag and go stay with your mom for a little while. But the other part, the much bigger part, just wanted to be held by your husband. So you went home and changed out of your nice dress and took off all of your makeup and waited. 

He didn’t come home that night. 

You found out the following day that he’d gotten drunk at the Hard Deck and crashed with Coyote. No call from him, no text. Nothing from Coyote to let you know your husband was okay. 

You were met with flowers and an apology when you got home from work. 

“Baby I’m sorry.”

“You let me wait there like an idiot for more than an hour, Jake.”

“It was only meant to be one drink, I don’t know what happened!” He swore. 

“One drink?” You questioned, eyebrows raised, “You couldn’t even call me! I didn’t know if you were okay or not!”

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” He sounded like he was begging as he reached for you, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He held you tightly against him, so tight it almost hurt. Eventually you hugged him back, just as tightly, because you couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t have Jake Seresin in your life. You needed him like you needed air. He was your everything. Until the day he decided he wasn’t. 

Again, the changes were so small you almost didn’t notice them. He was coming home later and later. Spending more and more time outside of the house. You just assumed he was busy with work. You weren’t having sex like you used to, but he was just so tired all of the time. He didn’t buy you flowers, he was just busy. 

You always had some sort of excuse. There was always some sort of reason. He always came home with a smile and an apology so you let it go. You always let it go. 

Until one day, in late May, when he didn’t come home for several nights. But then the phone call came. 

“Phoenix! Have you heard from Jake? I’m starting to get a little worried.”

“He’s with another woman,” The female pilot stated bluntly, “I’m not going to lie for him anymore. He’s with another woman and he’s been with her for months now.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but you felt her words like a shot to the gut. So much so to the point where you stumbled backwards. 

“He what?” You questioned, clutching your phone so hard your knuckles were white.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am.” 

Then she was gone, leaving you in a heap on your floor. The tears didn’t stop. For days the tears kept coming. When Jake finally returned home, you tried to act like nothing was wrong. Either you were so good at the act, or he didn’t care because he never questioned a thing. 

Until one day in May when he called you from Lemore, where he’d been sent for a couple of weeks on a detachment. 

“Jake, hi,” You breathed out, relieved to be hearing from him. 

“Y/N, we need to talk, do you have time?”

“Yeah, I’m sitting down for dinner,” You reply, setting down your glass of wine, “What’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply, you wondered where he was. How the detachment was going? But now didn’t seem to be the time to ask, not when he sounded so serious. 

“This isn’t working,” He stated. 

“Well you’ll be home soon,” You answered as if it was the only thing that mattered. 

Because despite it all, you loved Jake more than your own life. You would do anything for him, you’d walk through fire for him if he asked. He might not, but you still clung to the vows you made when you got married. You clung to every promise you ever made to him, because you loved him. 

“No, not the distance,” He sighed again, “This marriage. I want out.”

You made some sort of noise, sounding much like a wounded animal. You hadn’t expected that he would want to end it. Even after all of the fights, and angry words both of you said. There were cuts, deep ones, caused by both of you. 

“No, you don’t mean that,” You stammered, “You’re just tired.”

“Damnit, get your fucking head out of the clouds, Y/N. I’m done. I have been for a while and I kept thinking you might wake the fuck up. But you haven’t.”

“Don’t say that, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? Huh? I still love you? Because I don’t think I have for a long time now. I’m not going to stay in a marriage with someone I’ve fallen out of love with. I won’t fuckin do it.”

You were crying now, “Don’t do this. Just come home? We can work it out. Just please,” You begged. 

“I’ll stay with a friend while you pack up.”

He didn’t give you an option. He decided everything for you. Your marriage was over, just like that. There was no more fighting, no more trying. You could feel it in your bones, such a deep ache you weren’t sure if it would ever go away. He kept speaking but you didn’t hear him. All you could hear was a dull roar in your ears. 

You went to your mom’s two days later. When it came time to finalize the divorce months later, you were still holding out hope that he might change his mind. You held out hope that he would come back to you and everything would be just the way it was before. 

Even as you signed your name and watched as Jake signed his, you kept hoping you would wake up and it would all be some sort of bad dream. 

“This is for the best,” He told you so softly it made the ache come back, “You’ll forgive me for this one day. Once you realize just how bad we were together.”

“It takes strength to forgive,” You stated hollowly, “I don’t feel strong anymore.”

#Jake sersein #hangman seresin #Jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #top gun imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 13

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 11/22

Word Count: 7.2K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Sunday came and went and you never heard a word from Eddie, not so much as a phone call. You tried to tell yourself that he was just with his uncle. He was just too busy to call. It didn’t mean he was blowing you off or that he was ignoring you. It didn’t mean that he’d wished you’d never done what you did last night. It didn’t mean he’d just used you and discarded you. Right?

You spent the day busying yourself by doing little things around the house like pulling weeds and wiping down every inch of your kitchen. As afternoon came, you walked into town to the local hardware store to look at possible paint colors for your porch. Then you’d popped into Melvald’s for some light bulbs and met Will’s mother, who was also apparently the Chief’s wife. 

She was kind and friendly, pulling you in for a hug, telling you how nice it was to meet you, welcoming you to Hawkins. A big smile stretched her face but she had the same haunted look in her eyes that the others did, a look of someone who’d almost been completely broken by life and was trying hard to keep the pieces together. You couldn’t imagine what that sweet woman must have gone through when she thought Will was dead. No mother should have to experience that kind of trauma, even if it turned out to be false in the end. Joyce had insisted that you should join them for dinner at their house sometime. Apparently all the kids came over once a month. You told her of course, finding yourself unable to disappoint this lady who was so welcoming within seconds of meeting you.

When darkness fell and the late hour reminded you that you had to wake up early in the morning to teach a bunch of eight year olds, you fell into bed, deceiving yourself, holding onto the thought that he’d just been busy and he would call tomorrow. But an annoying voice in the back of your head kept whispering that you’d been an idiot to trust him, to believe him. You’d made a rash decision after your divorce and now you were going to pay for it.

Monday came as it always did, far too early, whether you wanted it to or not. Your mind stayed fairly occupied at work, as long as you were busy, and that wasn’t a problem when the students were in the room with you. Between watching Lance like a hawk, having to explain to two heart eyed children that there was no kissing in third grade, and Jeremiah announcing to the entire class that his mom had hit the neighbor’s car yesterday but it was a secret, your mind had stayed plenty busy. But your planning period had found you blinking back tears at your desk as you tried to work on interventions for a couple of kids who were behind a grade level in Reading. Your lunch hit the trash can even though you’d barely touched it when your stomach revolted against it. 

The meeting with Lance and Charlie’s parents had gone just about as awful as you’d expected. Mr. Johnson and Gareth, as he’d requested you call him, had wound up going toe to toe. The meeting got heated very quickly when Mr. Johnson said his son had done nothing wrong and Charlie shouldn’t dress like a freak if he didn’t want to be treated like one. Both men were up and in each other’s faces within ten minutes, chests heaving, eyes hard and hateful. 

Principal Washington had wound up calling it over after forty-five minutes that was getting no one anywhere, telling both men to go cool off. So, you were stuck in the same position you’d been in prior to the meeting, no resolution to the issue between the boys and now a bigger issue between the parents.

You’d thought about stopping by Eddie’s after work to confront him but quickly realized you had no idea where he lived. He’d always shown up at your work or house or you’d seen him at Nancy’s or the bonfire. For a minute, you considered calling Nancy or Robin to ask but how would you explain why you needed to know without telling them what had happened? And you couldn’t do that. You imagined them sighing, pitying the dumb girl who’d allowed Eddie Munson into her bed. So you didn’t and by the time you went to bed that night, you’d cried silently into your pillow, hating yourself for believing anything that had come out of his mouth.

Tuesday, you struggled to make it through your day. You lost track of where you were, couldn’t remember what you were teaching, stumbled over your words. At one point you passed out a paper on common and proper nouns when you were supposed to be working on division. The kids noticed, asking you if you were okay and you knew you had to do something about this. 

You couldn’t keep going on like this. If he was going to treat you like some cheap one-night stand then you had to just get over it. There was nothing you were going to do about it and chasing after him just made you pathetic. It had clearly meant nothing to him so why were you allowing it to consume you so much? Lots of people had one-night stands even if you never had. You were freshly divorced. Shouldn’t that be the kind of thing you should be doing? Relishing your freedom, making up for all the things you’d never experienced? Maybe it was just a good time and great sex and you needed to leave it at that.

After work, you headed to the bakery to grab a coffee, needing a pick-me-up after two sleepless nights and a really stressful meeting. Millie glanced up from behind the counter with a smile, took one look at your face, and the smile dropped as her eyes went wide.

“Uh-oh, honey, do I need to pack up some extra sweets for you? You look downright miserable.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Just needed a little coffee to get me through the rest of the day. It’s been a really long week already and it’s only Tuesday.”

“Uh-huh…” the old woman replied, clearly skeptical. Her hand came down on the counter as she leaned in toward you. “Well, if those swollen eyes and frown are any indication, you’re lying through your teeth. Sadness is leaking out of you like steam from a hot kettle.”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to say much more. Your sadness was like a rain cloud hanging over you, threatening to break open and release your sorrow at any moment. And when it did fall, it would come pouring down in a flood of tears and anguish. You would be right back where you’d been months ago. You weren't ready to let that happen and certainly not in this coffee shop in front of this woman who’d been nothing but kind to you. You were trying so hard to just let it go.

Millie came around the counter faster than you would have expected her to be able to. Her arm slid around your shoulders, guiding you to a small table off to the side. You obeyed when instructed to sit down, the kind woman taking the chair across from you. 

“Alright, I am going to need you to eat this first and then tell me what is going on,” Millie demanded, sliding a warm chocolate chip across the table toward you. When you didn’t make a move for it, she nudged it even closer. “Come on. Nothing makes the bitterness of life better than a little sweetness. Besides, the sugar will be good for you. Bring a little color back to your cheeks.”

You broke off a small piece, placing it in your mouth, allowing your senses to be flooded with the baked good. The chocolate chips were rich and creamy, the cookie was tender and chewy, and the combination just melted in your mouth. It felt like a hug, like comfort wrapped up in butter and sugar. 

“There you go,” smiled Millie, tapping the table with her hand, clearly satisfied now that you had enjoyed your cookie. “Now, what’s got my girl looking like a four year old who just dropped her ice cream cone on the ground?”

You looked up at this woman, this woman you barely knew but who already felt like an old friend, someone you could trust anything to. Millie had been the first friendly face you’d met in Hawkins. She’d welcomed you with open arms from the moment you met as if she’d known you all her life. If you couldn’t talk about it with your new friends and weren't willing to admit to your sister that you’d been fooled by a man once again, then who else could you tell?

“I slept with Eddie,” you groaned, your forehead dropping onto the wooden table with a thunk.

“Oh…oh my…okay.” You lifted your head to find Millie sitting, one hand covering the smile that was obviously beneath it, deep lines creasing in the corners of her eyes. 

“This is not even slightly amusing,” you huffed, frustrated at the woman’s smile. She had no idea. No idea how infuriating this was, how confused you were, how much you despised yourself for allowing it to happen. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry but it is. I called it. If you remember, just a couple weeks ago I told you that the two of you would wind up here getting your coffee together. I could see that look on your face. That look was like fireworks on the Fourth of July, honey. I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. Look, this is not a bad thing. I know what all these idiots in town have to say but Eddie is actually a very good guy. It’s not the end of the world. Honestly, I think the two of you could be exactly what the other needs.”

“Except not. We slept together Saturday night and he raced out of there like he couldn’t wait to get away and I have not heard one word from him since.” Your cheeks hollowed as you blew out a long breath, sitting back in your chair. “I am pretty sure I let some guy screw me over again, this time literally. He said all these lovely things and I, in all my desperate neediness after my divorce, believed him and I was nothing but a one night stand. He just wanted to screw the new girl. He’s probably out bragging about it to all of his friends.”

Millie’s face settled into a look of disbelief, “No. That can’t be right. I don’t believe that for one minute. Eddie can be…difficult and sometimes dense, but he wouldn’t do something like that. I just can’t believe that he would do that to you.”

“I know you think he’s some wonderful guy because he jumped your car and helped with your gutters, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a dog when it comes to women. He’s in a band. You know how guys like that are. They think they’re God’s gift to women or something and women throw themselves at them. He’s probably had more one night stands than he’s had your cookies. I don’t know why I didn’t think all this through. He just…god, he’s had me in some kind of chokehold from the moment we met and I don’t know why. He’s so annoying. He’s infuriating, really. He’s just…god, he’s so beautiful and…” You swallowed, picking off another piece of cookie but simply holding it between your fingers, staring at it. “I thought there was something more there. I really thought there was a decent guy underneath all that hostility. But honestly, what did I think? I’ve only known him a few weeks and we’ve only been getting along for a couple of days. Jesus, I am so stupid.”

Millie’s hand covered yours, her skin feeling thin and papery but warm and comforting, “You are not. I don’t know why he’s acting like some playboy. There’s no excuse for a man not to at least call after a night like that. I have half a mind to go over to his house, drag that boy out by his ear, and give him what for. He clearly needs it. I don’t care how old he is. Wayne would have his head if he knew he was treating a woman like that. What you need to do is confront him because there has to be some explanation for why he’s acting like this.”

You snorted, “How? I thought about showing up at his house but I have no idea where he lives. I know he’s a mechanic at the garage but I don’t know his work schedule and I am not just going to keep showing up there like a lost puppy. I don’t know. I think I’m just going to let it go. It is what it is. He obviously got what he wanted from me and he’s done. I was already dumb enough to fall for it. I don’t need to be the pathetic girl chasing him around. Thirty years old and I just had my first one night stand. I never saw myself as that kind of girl.”

“You’ve never…really?” Millie asked doubtfully. 

“No. I’ve only ever been with one guy,” you admitted softly. “My ex-husband and I met in our sophomore year of high school. He was my first and I always thought he would be my last. Obviously, I was wrong about him too.”

“Oh honey,” Millie sighed. “No wonder you’re taking this so hard. Eddie was your first after your husband and only the second guy you’ve ever been with?”

You shrugged, “Yeah. Maybe I should just swear off of men for a while. That was the original plan anyway. I even thought about maybe getting myself some cats. Just really lean into the whole spinster vibe, you know? I was supposed to be focusing on me and then this stupidly gorgeous guy came along and I forgot to follow my own rules.”

“I hate to break it to you, honey, but there are no rules when it comes to the heart. And our hearts can make us do things that our brains would never agree to. They just take over the operation completely. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do. Eddie and his band play tonight at The Hideout. They do it every single Tuesday. You go down there and when his set is over, you corner that man. You demand some answers and you tell him what a shit he is for treating you like this. Don’t let him get away with this. His behavior is unacceptable.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t want me. I already came off as pathetic practically begging him to spend the night. Showing up at his show, that’s just mortifying.”

“You’re not chasing after him. You’re just getting the answers you deserve and telling him what a jerk he is. He needs to hear it so he doesn’t do this to another poor girl. I really thought he was better than that. And don’t you swear off men. You are a beautiful, sweet girl who is far too young to spend the rest of your life alone. You will find someone. If you need to take your time, heal for a little bit, that’s okay but don’t close that door for good. One day the right guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet. I just know it.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. I’m not sure I believe good guys even exist.”

“Oh, they do. Know how I know? I’m married to one. My Roy is as good as they come. He spoils the hell out of me, treats me like a queen, and he would never cheat on me. Could be because he knows I would slice his balls right off, but…” Millie laughed, shrugging.

You laughed, the sound loud and foreign to your own ears, a sound you hadn’t made in a few days. But hearing this sweet old woman say balls was sending you into hysterics, the words so shocking. Millie’s palm patted your cheek gently.

“Be brave honey because you’re worth far more than this. Don’t let that man treat you like this and get away with it. You go to that show and give that boy shit. Make him regret ever deciding to do that to you.”

Your spine straightened, your resolve hardening. Millie was right. Eddie had treated you like shit from the very beginning. He’d been so rude and mean and just when he started being nice, it had all been a ruse to get you into bed. He didn’t get to use you and discard you like trash along the side of the road. You were sick of people in your life thinking it was okay to treat you like nothing, like you didn’t matter, like you were an idiot.

“You know what? I will,” you stated.

Millie smiled, “That’s my girl.”

____________________________________________________________

You pushed open the door of The Hideout that night to be greeted with a cloud of smoke. The inside of this place was exactly what you expected from a little hole in the wall bar in a small town. The floors were sticky under your feet and the tabletops were chipped and stained from past drinks. The furniture looked old and weathered and it didn’t look like anyone had given this place a good cleaning in far too long. The atmosphere was loud and rowdy, the place packed full of people laughing and drinking. This was clearly the kind of establishment that people went to in order to forget their problems for a while. But you were coming here to step right into yours. 

You’d battled yourself for the last few hours, trying to decide if you were going to follow through or not and now that you were here, you wanted nothing more than to turn and leave. Your chest tightened, the thought of confronting Eddie like a heavy weight pressing on it, keeping you from moving forward. 

This was so stupid. What was the point of this? Nothing you said was going to change a damn thing. Eddie wouldn’t care. You couldn’t be the first girl he’d done this to. You meant nothing to him. Your fantasies of causing him pain like he’d caused you, of seeing regret on his face were just that, fantasies. If he’d cared at all, he would have called you once in the past three days. 

Just as you turned to the door, ready to head back out and go home, put on your sweats and forget all about this ridiculous idea, you heard someone yelling your name. You turned to find Robin waving her arm high over her head to make sure she was seen through the dim lighting and smog being created by the dozens of cigarettes lit up around the place. She sat at a table with Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max. 

You groaned, closing your eyes for a moment, knowing there would be no easy escape now. If you walked out, they would want to know why you’d ignored them and you really did not want to explain what had transpired within the last few days with Eddie. So you slowly made your way over to the table as Steve was grabbing a chair and pulling it between him and Dustin for you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, dropping down into it, mortified to find that they were right in front of the stage where Eddie would definitely not be able to miss you. 

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” exclaimed Nancy with a grin. 

“Yeah, neither did I. It was kind of a last minute decision,” you shrugged awkwardly. Jesus, this was going to lead to more questions. You and Eddie had done nothing but argue in front of all of them so of course they had to be wondering why you’d be here.

Max’s head tilted slightly, those sunglasses keeping you from being able to read her reaction very well, “You and Eddie must be getting along if he asked you to come to his show.”

“Argyle told me you two came into his place to get pizza together yesterday,” Jonathan smirked, clearly thinking he knew more than the rest of them but not knowing near what he thought he did.

Nancy’s mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’, like Jonathan hadn’t already told her, “Really? Well, that is interesting. Pray tell, why were you and Eddie out to dinner together?”

“Are you two…are you two dating?” asked Dustin. “Damn it. Why am I always the last to know everything?”

“Because you have a big mouth,” snorted Max, receiving a middle finger from Dustin in response.

“There’s nothing to know. We are not dating. It was nothing really,” you insisted, shaking your head. “He’s helping me with the car I bought off of his uncle. I have to buy the parts and he’s going to fix it for me. So, we went to the junkyard to look for stuff because he was trying to save me some money and then we were hungry. We just grabbed some pizza. That’s all.”

“Hmm…” Robin mused, her tongue slipping between her teeth, mouth curved in amusement. “I suppose at least you two are getting along well enough to spend time together and both come out alive.”

“Yeah. I thought I was going to have to referee at the roller rink,” chuckled Steve. “You looked ready to clock him in the jaw.”

“I tried to call you on Monday,” Nancy accused, saving you from responding to Steve’s comment, swirling her straw through her drink. “I left a message but you never called me back.”

“Yeah. I heard your message. I’m sorry about that,” you mumbled, pulling the ketchup bottle toward you, peeling the label anxiously. “I had that meeting yesterday with Lance and Charlie’s parents. It didn’t go well. I got home late and I was just exhausted, completely wiped. I wound up going to bed early,” you lied, growing concerned at how easily not being truthful was coming to you these days.

“I could have told you that wouldn’t end well,” snorted Dustin. “Andy’s a dick.”

“What happened?” asked Lucas.

“I tried to calmly explain to Mr. Johnson that his son’s behavior was unacceptable and cruel. He wouldn’t hear it, saying the kid was asking for it by choosing to be different. What did he expect to happen when he walked into school looking like that? That got Gareth very upset, as you can expect, and he accused Mr. Johnson of raising his son to be a bully just like him. Mr. Johnson then said he shouldn’t be raising a freak if he didn’t want him to get bullied. Gareth said better a freak than an asshole. Then Mr. Johnson said Charlie would turn out to be a low-life criminal psychopath just like Eddie and before I knew it the two men were squared off, looking like they were ready to have an all out brawl in my classroom. My principal tried to calm everybody down but the meeting was going nowhere fast so she eventually just told both of them to go home and cool off. I don’t think the issues between the boys will ever get resolved because the issues between the men never have.”

“Trust me, those issues will never be resolved,” Lucas told you. “That bad blood runs deep in their veins. Andy was a member of the cronies who came after Corroded Coffin when they were looking for Eddie. Jason almost busted Gareth’s hand which would have made it very hard to play drums. And Andy, he almost broke my little sister’s arm. They were horrible.”

“Why were they looking for Eddie?” you asked. “Were they part of the vigilante crowd who was hunting him?”

“How do you know about that?” asked Nancy.

“Me,” Jonathan answered, raising his hand with an apologetic smile. “I told her how the people in town were out hunting him down, assuming he was guilty. Yeah, they were part of that. In fact, they were leading the charge. When Chrissy died, Jason lost his mind. He got the whole town riled up at the town hall meeting and he and his basketball crew were out with weapons looking for Eddie.”

“Did they find him?”you  asked, wondering if those scars weren’t from raccoons after all but a bunch of cruel boys hunting down a man they’d falsely accused based on how he looked and what he enjoyed. Could that have been what he meant when he started to say that he almost died? You’d been sure that was how he was going to finish that statement. The very thought made your stomach turn sour. Eddie being horribly attacked by a bunch of cruel bastards was enough to make you want to lose your dinner.

“No. They didn’t,” answered Lucas, pointing around the table. “These guys were able to help him stay hidden until he was proved innocent by the chief. I gave them a heads up because I was on the basketball team. I was with Jason and them after it all happened. So, once I knew they were coming for Eddie and it wasn’t just to talk, I let everyone know so we could keep him safe.”

“Wow…he was lucky to have friends like you. There’s not a lot of people who would put themselves in that position, helping a wanted man, placing themselves in the line of danger. That was really brave of all of you.”

“Or really stupid,” Steve shrugged, laughing. “But Eddie was innocent and he didn’t deserve all that bullshit and luckily, it all worked out in the end.”

You were pleased to finally have some answers. At least they hadn’t all shut down on you this time. But just as you were getting ready to take advantage of their giving nature, the owner of the bar came on stage to introduce Corroded Coffin. The entire bar lost their shit, screaming and clapping, letting you know these guys were pretty much local celebrities. It made sense if they’d been playing here for so long but it was a testament to how talented they must be that people kept coming back week after week.

The guys came onto the stage, Eddie stepping out last and the minute you caught sight of him, your breath rushed from your body. How did that man still have the capacity to incapacitate your most basic functions when you hated him so much? Two conflicting emotions, hatred and desire, battling for dominance within you. 

It didn’t help that he looked so goddamn sexy right now. His hair was covered by a black bandana, those lean arms exposed in a cut-off tee bearing his band’s name, pale scars shimmering brightly under the lights of the stage. He opened his mouth to yell to the crowd and then snapped it shut just as quickly when his eyes found yours sitting a mere six feet from him. 

Brown eyes, glowing like an ember in the spotlight, widened in surprise. Yeah, you were sure he was surprised to see you, probably startled and appalled that you hadn’t gotten the message and left him alone. Was he nervous you’d call him out in the middle of the bar in front of all his friends? Well, he didn’t have to worry about that. You had no intention of allowing any of them to know what a fool he’d made of you, what a fool you’d allowed him to make you. But you couldn’t resist the smug smile that crossed your lips at how you’d thrown him off kilter for a moment.

Eddie shook his head, blinking, clearing his throat. “Hawkins, are you ready to have a good time?” he yelled into the microphone, pulling his eyes from yours, awkward moment forgotten, pushed to the side as rockstar mode slid firmly back in place. 

As the show went on, you couldn’t help but be pulled in, completely mesmerized by him. He commanded the stage with confidence and charisma, his presence felt throughout the entire bar. He was a man consumed by his music. His fingers danced and flowed over the strings, seeming to have a mind of their own. His body moved to the beat. Eddie was a ball of energy, racing from one end of the small stage to the other, sweat dripping down his face, long waves plastered to his skin. He had frontman energy in spades.

The music was loud and aggressive, intense and powerful. It was everything heavy metal should be. The whole crowd was caught up in the show, an experience that wouldn’t soon be forgotten, an experience they would all be eager to have again next week. You understood now why the people kept coming back. He was absolutely electrifying, a rock god entertaining his people, providing them a release from the realities of life. 

You had never seen him more at peace, more in his element than he was up there on that stage. There were no signs of the usual haunting sadness or the bitter resentment on his face when he was playing and singing. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as that growling, seductive voice sang, but his tone did not match the softness in his features, appearing completely at peace. 

He grinned as the last chords were played on their closing song, his tongue slipping out and running over his bottom lip, those coffee-hued eyes exuding joy that was entirely captivating. So captivating that you leapt to your feet, screaming and clapping along with everyone else before you realized what you were doing. Eddie glanced down at you in surprise and then his lips curved into a smile that let you know he was pleased with himself. You quickly looked down at your feet, bringing your hands to your sides, annoyed that he’d caused your body to act without your permission once again. 

“They’re amazing, huh?” asked Dustin, his grin wide and goofy, hero worship rolling off him in waves. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, grabbing your purse. “That was great. I’m just…I’m going to get going, okay?”

You had to get out of here, escape before Eddie and his bandmates made their way out. You had thought you could do this, be strong and brave, tell him off for treating you like some cheap whore but you couldn’t. You couldn’t face him. You weren't brave. You were weak. Wasn’t that obvious? Cam had known it too. He’d cheated on you knowing you would be too dumb to realize what was happening. You were going to do what you always did when things got too hard, run and hide. 

“What? No!” argued Steve, tossing his hands up. “Come on! The show just ended. The guys are going to come out soon. We’ll all have a drink.”

“Yeah, don’t rush out,” Max added. “Eddie will be so happy you came.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you countered, shaking your head. “Look, just tell him I said they were amazing, okay? I’ll…”

“Amazing, huh? That’s awfully high praise coming from the Queen herself.”

Dread doused you, ice cold water creeping through your veins at the sound of that voice behind you. You glanced toward the exit, wondering how ridiculous it would be if you just raced for the door. But no, you couldn’t give any of them an indication of what had happened. So, swallowing down the lump in your throat, you slowly turned to face him. 

Fuck. Why did he have to be so beautiful? He stood, wiping his face down with a towel. Close up like this, you could see black eyeliner rimming his lower lash line, only making his eyes that much more swoon worthy. You rolled your shoulders back. No. You would not be swooning. Eddie Munson was not worth swooning over. He was a jerk, you reminded yourself, an asshole who’d taken advantage of you and then ditched you.

“I mean, Gareth was incredible on drums and the bass player, damn. Really amazing musicians,” you spat, refusing to compliment him in any way.

“My guys are pretty fucking amazing,” Eddie agreed, chuckling in amusement before thanking a bartender as they handed him a bottle of beer. Your eyebrows raised and he shrugged, taking a long pull. “Perks of performing. Drinks are on the house.”

“Speaking of drinks, who wants?” asked Jonathan. “I got the first round.”

“Me,” you said quickly, thinking you were going to require something stiff and strong to make it through any more conversation tonight. “Can I get a bourbon on the rocks?”

“Well shit, our little school teacher likes the hard stuff,” Eddie commented with a low whistle.

“Bourbon, really?” asked Robin. “That’s an odd choice.”

“My dad likes it. It was the first thing I ever got drunk on,” you replied as Jonathan and Steve headed up to the bar. “Cassie and I drank half the bottle and then tried filling it with water but he drank it straight so he knew the minute he poured it. Not to mention the color was all wrong. I don’t know how we thought we wouldn’t get caught. I was grounded for two weeks after that.”

“My first time getting drunk was on some punch at a party, pure fuel,” Nancy said with a gag. “Oh, I was so sick. It was awful. Steve can attest to it. I was rather bitchy that night or so I’m told. I don’t actually remember any of it.”

“Well, you were going through a lot at the time,” Steve interjected. “You were just trying to forget…everything.”

“Including you,” snorted Robin, bumping him with her elbow and he placed a large hand on her face, pushing her. She shoved him back. “It was vodka for me, but the cheap stuff. It was like drinking gasoline.”

“My uncle’s whiskey and he drinks the good shit so he was pissed as hell when he found his bottle gone,” Eddie laughed. “I got my ear chewed off for that one.”

“Beer,” shrugged Dustin.

“Me too,” Lucas nodded. “It was me, Mike, and Dustin. Will was there but he didn’t drink. We snuck it from Mike’s dad but that guy is so oblivious he never said anything. He probably didn’t even notice, thought he’d drunk it and forgot.”

Max sighed, “I’ve never. I actually don't drink. My mom developed a drinking problem after my step-brother died and my step-dad took off. I just never cared enough to find out if I inherited that particular fun family trait.”

“That’s very impressive,” you told her and it was. For her to recognize the potential problem and choose to avoid it rather than risk following that same path. Most people couldn’t do that. They continued the pattern instead of breaking it.

“Here we are,” Jonathan announced, him and Steve arriving with an array of drinks carefully balanced, passing them around. 

“Hey teach!” 

You smiled when you saw Charlie’s dad approaching with his other two bandmates. The meeting may have ended badly but you’d liked Charlie’s dad from the moment you’d met him at Open House. He was kind and obviously adored his son. The meeting going poorly hadn’t been his fault but the fault of Lance’s dad who was openly hostile from the moment he’d walked in. 

“Hey there.” You glanced down at the drink in your hand and cringed. 

Gareth caught her look, “No worries. I won’t tell anyone you have an actual life outside of the classroom. Whatever you do on your own time is your own business. You’ve been wonderful to my kid and that’s all that matters to me. Besides, having to deal with Andy is enough to drive anyone to drink.”

“Thanks.”

You knew you were a human who was allowed to do adult things outside of work but it always felt weird when a parent spotted you doing so. You’d had parents in the past who’d looked at you funny or made comments if you had a drink in your hand. Or hell, the one time a parent had questioned you wearing a bathing suit to the pool, saying it was inappropriate for someone who worked with children to be showing that much skin. What were you supposed to swim in? Jeans and a shirt?

“You teach Charlie?” asked Eddie and you realized that because you’d been trying to keep him from hearing what had been said about him, that particular topic had never come up.

“Yeah, man. You didn’t know that?” asked Gareth. “Charlie adores her. She’s been looking out for him. Andy’s kid has been an absolute douche to him. Like father, like son, but Ms. Campbell here has been on him. You should have heard her with Andy in our meeting yesterday, letting him know exactly what kind of kid he was raising.”

“Well, I…I thought I was being gentle about it.”

“No, you were. That was what was so awesome. You basically let him know his kid was a dickhead but without saying those words. You made it all professional and shit with the words you chose. ‘Lance’s behavior with Charlie has been unacceptable, mean, and downright cruel. I fear if it continues then Lance could become alienated from the other children.’ You basically said, your child is an asshole that no one is going to want to be around if you don’t step up and be a dad but still managed to be nice about it. It was amazing.”

“Well, thanks,” you smiled. “I’m trying but his father doesn’t seem very receptive.”

Eddie snorted, “Of course not. Andy’s a massive douchebag. He’s probably proud that his son is an asshole just like him. Probably teaching him to go after any kid who doesn’t fit into his nice little box of what is normal.”

“You would be correct,” Jonathan huffed. “He told his kid all about you.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Eddie, spine rigid and there went that muscle in his jaw again. He definitely did not hide agitation very well.

“He told his kid that you were responsible for those murders.”

“How do you know that?” the metalhead demanded, his eyes moving from Jonathan to you, narrowing. “How would he know that? I didn’t think Jonathan knew Andy’s kid.”

“Shit…” Jonathan muttered, cringing as he looked at you apologetically. “Look, the kid was running his mouth to her when she told him to stop being a little jerk to Charlie. He told her he was going after him because he was making sure that he knew his place and didn’t hurt people like you had. He told her you’d killed people and gotten away with it. She was confused so she came over to our place and asked me what he meant.”

“Oh, I see, it was so easy for you to assume that I was some sadistic killer like everyone else in this town?” Eddie grumbled, his tone hard, cold, angry. Those eyes challenged you, terrified you, the darkness apparent in them causing you to take a step back. “So, you went and asked my friends about it? What? Didn’t have the balls to just come and ask me? Were you too scared to be alone with me? Afraid I might summon Satan and complete some dark ritual on you. Too bad you’re not a virgin, sweetheart. Kind of a prerequisite for any Satanic shit. So no worries. You’re safe.”

Tears burned your eyes and you battled them back. Jesus, what had you ever done to make him treat you so badly? This was precisely why you hadn’t gone to him because you knew he would just find a way to villainize you for it. Like it was your fault that Andy was spreading lies about him, that his kid had told you.

“How was I supposed to ask you? You’d been so nasty to me and I knew asking you that would only make it worse. I didn’t assume shit. I couldn’t see you hurting anyone. I was confused to find out some guy I’d just met had been accused of murder. Excuse me for asking for clarification.”

“Clarification?” he scoffed. “Please. You’ve painted me as a villain from the moment you met me.”

“I didn’t have to paint you as anything! You’ve done that all yourself!” you yelled. “You’ve played the part pretty damn well, being an asshole to me from the moment we met.”

“Whoa…uh guys…” Dustin stepped between them, trying to intervene but Eddie placed his hand on his chest and pushed him to the side. 

“I’m only playing the part you cast me in. You say I’ve been nasty. Well, you’ve not exactly been sunshine and rainbows, darling.”

“Hey, let’s just calm down,” Steve called out, glancing nervously between the two of you. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

You ignored him. You couldn’t stop yourself now if you tried, your body practically vibrating with anger, sick and tired of him treating you like shit. “I don’t know what the hell happened to you to make you such a bitter, awful person. I thought I wanted to know. I thought maybe I could be someone who could help you…”

“I don’t need or want your help.”

“That’s fine because I really don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Eddie laughed, “And you think I do? You think I care whether you like me or not?”

“You sure seemed to Saturday night,” you spat, stepping into him, that bravery you didn’t think you had suddenly appeared and you didn’t care anymore what any of them thought about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about much at the moment other than the ugly urge within you to gut him the way he’d gutted you. 

“Oh honey, I’m just a good actor,” he grinned, any trace of the man you’d spent Saturday with gone, replaced with this cruel monster who was enjoying digging that knife in just a bit deeper. 

“Maybe you are. Sure didn’t seem like you were acting when you were fucking me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot to his forehead as a collective gasp erupted from your friends. His eyes slipped closed, hand running down his face as he groaned loudly. He’d clearly not expected you to divulge that particular piece of information and you found you felt justified. It was childish but it felt damn good.

“Did she just say…?” you heard Robin whisper.

Max wheezed, “Holy shit.”

Nancy choked on her drink, “Didn’t see that coming…”

“Seriously, always the last to know,” grumbled Dustin.

You ignored them all. “You’re pathetic, Eddie. You walk around putting on this front to the world. You act the part everyone expects you to because you never want to let anyone in, never want to let anyone close, to let anyone see you. I wanted to try. I thought maybe there was something there, something worthwhile. But now, all you are is one giant fucking mistake. One I won’t be making again.”

And with that, you turned and stormed out of the bar, leaving him speechless once again as everyone else broke out in a rumble of question and exclamations.

Chapter 14

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank @paleidiot

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson lives #max mayfield #hawkins #ongoing #fluff #angst #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #enemies to friends to lovers #post divorce #falling in love #second chances #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #jonathan byers

[loquaciousquark]

I was in clinic this morning with the rising third year students when a first year student came down to ask if I'd seen Dr. Jones. As it happened, I knew for a fact Dr. Jones was out of the building in a planned absence, because I was covering Dr. Jones's patients and students along with my own.

Well, said the first year, Dr. Jones is supposed to be lecturing to us on pupil anomalies from 10-12 today, and it's 10:30, and we don't know what to do. So I handed off my clinical students to the TA, told the TA to come get me when they were ready to check out, and went upstairs.

Thankfully I knew where this professor kept their lecture presentations on our shared drive, so I was able to pull up the slides for myself as well as email the file to the students. I started at 10:40 and was able to get all the way through the material except for three slides at the end, which was honestly better than I'd expected.

There were two things I kept thinking as I was lecturing. First, this pupils material used to be really hard for me; it's a lot of neuron arcs and pathways and subpathways and different types of receptors and such, and it can be blisteringly confusing if you don't have a rock-solid understanding of the underlying anatomy (which heck, I sure didn't when I took it!). When I was a student I failed an oral exam on pupils three and a half times and I think only passed the fourth out of genuine pity from my examiner. It was one of those things I constantly had to look up and re-learn for every exam because it just didn't stick. That I now felt so comfortable with the subject material that I could give an unrehearsed, unreviewed lecture with someone else's slides, and that I was confident that I could teach it effectively off the top of the dome, really hammered in how much I've learned since even my early years on faculty. I don't think I could have given this lecture without a prior material review eight years ago--maybe not even three years ago. There was one point where the PowerPoint was freezing and I said, "Well, if it keeps freezing, I can just talk to you about these conditions for the last thirty minutes," and I realized as I said it that I really could have.

The other thing I kept thinking about was that I have unexpectedly grown very comfortable with public speaking. I think it still counts as one of the most common fears in the U.S., but even getting up there in front of an audience of 40-something people with someone else's slides that I'd literally never seen in my life before, with an hour twenty to try to cram in as much information as I could, there really wasn't any fear or anxiety. Just the vague momentary sense of "oh boy, here we go," and not much more than that. It was honestly just really satisfying and affirming in a way I completely did not expect today.

Plus I think the lecture actually went over pretty well on top of that! Lots of class participation and laughter at my jokes, and nobody complained at all that I went all the way to the hour. Thankfully, the other doctor in clinic picked up almost all my slack there, and I was able to finish checking out the few last patients without them having to wait too long.

Still! I'd rather not make a habit of that, ha!

#optometry / #quark rambles

[autolovecraft]

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch.

The tower at length finished, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. It may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. I'd hate to have it aimed at me! Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass.

In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. Great heavens, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. That he was not an evil man. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine.

He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles.

The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity.

As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. Birch, being by temperament phlegmatic and practical, did not shout long; but proceeded to grope about for some tools which he recalled seeing in a corner of the tomb. Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol.

The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry.

But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it.

It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles!

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter here! You can also send me an ask to be added to/removed from the taglist.

permanent taglist; @pervhotch @spenxerslut @donald4spiderman @measure-in-pain @thatonezesty13 (check your visibility settings!) @jswessie187 @kuolonsyoja @idonotexiste

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #sub spencer reid #virgin spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler #gublernation #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

You Are More Than Enough ⚡️🧱

Alpha Kirishima x F! Beta Reader x Alpha Kaminari

Requested by @lizwello

Words: 4K

Summary: Your two alphas, Kaminari and Kirishima, ease your insecurities due to your Beta status

⚠️NSFW⚠️

(Not my art. Please credit the artist if you know their handle💕)

Biology failed you; instead of having a mouthwatering scent like an Omega or the strong presence of an Alpha, you were born a Beta. That means that you were normally the third choice for everyone (even for your fellow Betas). 

Your entire life you’ve always felt like a secondary character in the lives of your friends (which was somewhat expected but it still hurt) and even yourself. Your omega friends were being courted while your alpha friends were doing the courting. Where did that leave you? Alone. Unwanted. 

Media and schooling has a lot to do with your low self-confidence. Betas make up 90% of the population yet, alphas and omegas are the ones that get the glory. The media portrays the alpha as a possessive lover over the meek, submissive omega. The media romanticizes it so much that it becomes the ideal relationship. The media doesn’t show Betas being with omegas or alphas. No, Betas must mate with Betas. 

Sometimes, there are exceptions to everything. Alphas can be with alphas. Omegas can be with Betas. Omegas can be with Omegas (it’s rare but it has happened once before). Naturally, you expected you’d end up with another Beta. How could you not?

It makes sense; from a biological standpoint, omegas bodies and pheromones are meant for an alpha. Alphas knots are meant to be taken by an omega’s sweet body. 

Shiketsu High School was a relatively peaceful school (which was completely different from U.A. when you had been in attendance). You had graduated at the top of your class, alongside Inasa, and had been invited to join All Might’s hero agency. You supposed it was only a matter of time before pro-heroes started to approach you with job opportunities given your quirk. 

Born with the power of fear manipulation, you’d think you had a better grip of your own fears. Everyday, you went into the minds of villains and used their weaknesses against them however, you never thought about your own. You didn’t fear anything physical so, you suppose you’d call your fear mental-maybe emotional. A fear of not being good enough. 

So, when you started the job, you were fearful of what to expect. How would your co-workers treat you? Would anyone be interested in you? 

You know you may sound desperate but you can’t help it. Maybe it was the lack of experience from your youth or your pessimistic view of the world but, you wanted the same love you saw around you. After all, isn’t that what everyone wants? To feel loved? 

Your first day at All Might’s agency was something you’ll never forget. He wanted you there early so you could meet your comrades before they started their patrolling. You remember how he dwarfed you even in his skinny stature. 

“Do you have any questions?” His hand was softly ushering you into one of the debriefing rooms. “Don’t be afraid to ask. Anything to do with your quirk? Or, maybe work hours? Or-“

“Sir, I think you’re more nervous than I am,” perhaps it’s because he’s an alpha. It’s his preposition to fret about the health and comfort of others. 

“Sorry,” he laughs and rubs the back of his neck, cerulean eyes glancing down at you. “Young Midoriya always tells me I’m like a mother hen. I just want you to feel comfortable. Most of everyone that works here went to U.A. so I know you may feel singled out.” 

A silence was the only response he got; you’d be damned if you ever said anything for him or anyone else to pity you. You didn’t get to be this strong because of pity. 

“EVERYONE, GATHER AROUND. THE NEW HERO IS HERE,” everyone came rushing in with their colorful costumes on display. The pro-hero ‘Deku’ was the first to greet you in an excited frenzy. 

“Y/N, I’m Deku. Well, Izuku Midoriya but everyone calls me Deku. What’s your quirk? All Might wouldn’t tell us,” you know notice the notebook he holds in his hand. 

“Why do you need to know? You want to know my weaknesses?” You quirk your brow and feel your guard going back up. Behind you, All Might was noticing your combative attitude, noting it will definitely take a while for you to fit in. 

“Wha-no, no, no. Nothing like that. I-I just wanted to know,” he’s sputtering when a brown-haired woman comes to his side. 

“You’ll have to excuse Deku. He just gets excited about quirks. He’s documented all of ours so he can analyze them and give us suggestions to help us reach our greatest potential,” the woman smiles at the blubbering greenette. “I’m Uraraka.” 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” 

“Stop hogging her,” it’s like time started lagging. Your eyes fell on a blonde with a fringe, his fringe having a black light night strip. He’s lean in stature but, his eyes are the type of honey blonde that could stop anyone in their tracks (although it’s a shame he’s wearing blue tinted glasses that simmer the color). “Woah.” 

“Woah?” You cross your arms across your chest. 

“Yes, woah. You’re beautiful,” you turn bright red. “And, responsive. You smell good too.” 

The next moment he’s stuck on your neck, pulling you by the back of your head so he can expose more of your scent to his nose. Your mouth waters at how good he smells as well. 

“DENKI! You can’t go around smelling and scenting people without their permission,” from what you can see, the man admonishing the alpha on your neck has fire engine red eyes and bright red hair. You can catch glimpses of his sharp teeth when he speaks but your mind focuses on his lips. You look further down to see his torso exposed, body hard with muscle. “Woah.” 

“This is Y/N. The new hero I was telling you all about last week. Please treat her with respect and make her feel at home,” All Might was smiling down at you. 

“I’m Kirishima. The one scenting you is Kaminari,” you just nod till Kaminari is finished and let’s go. Even if it’s only for a second, Kirishima replaces Kaminari’s place on your body, fogging your mind up once again. You want to whine at the strong scents but you keep that to yourself. They’re probably just playing with you. 

“Both of you, give her some space,” All Might’s demand is enough for them to take a few steps back but, you can still smell them as if they’re still on you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine.” 

And, you were fine for a while till, you kept getting closer with the two alphas that scented you on your first day. You knew they were special. They were close, not mates but, close enough for anyone that didn’t know them to think so. You couldn’t tell what their relationship was but, they welcomed you into their duo with no questions asked, making their duo a trio. 

“She’s the one,” even without knowing you for long, Kirishima can tell you’re meant for him and Kaminari. 

“Just look at how perfect she is,” Denki fawns at you from across the room. “She doesn’t smile much. Luckily, I have so many jokes for her,” Kirishima facepalms as Kaminari gives him his signature thumbs up. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to drive her up a tree, aren’t you?” Kaminari nods. “Well, at least make sure you don’t push her too much.” 

“I won’t, scouts honor. Sooo, which one of us is going to ask her out?” Kaminari already has a few ideas of how to ask her but he doubts Kirishima will trust him with speaking to her without scenting her for the next few times he encounters her. 

“I think we both know I’ll be the one to ask her. We need to get her familiar with us before you start sending shocks up her legs,” they both smirk at the pun. 

And, so, an unlikely (in your opinion) friendship began to form between you, Kaminari, and Kirishima. Both alphas pursued you no matter how much you insisted their efforts would be appreciated somewhere else. Albeit, you did enjoy the attention they gave you. 

“Y/N, come here so we can cuddle,” you barely have any time to yourself as they both grab you and tuck you under their arm (truthfully, you don’t mind the attention). Either you sit on their lap willingly or they’ll grab you and put you there on their own accord. 

It doesn’t take much time for them to ask for your friendship to be morphed into something more. Despite your outward disparity, you’re elated when they ask you to be with them. Maybe it’s because you’re selfish and wouldn’t be able to bare them treating someone else the way they’ve treated you. 

‘Pro-Heroes ‘Chargebolt’ and ‘Red Riot’ Take New Beta Hero ‘Y/N’ As A Mate.’ The press had a field day when you first confirmed the rumors circulating about what was going on amongst the three of you. Some approved the relationship while most asked the obvious question: Why were eligible alphas such as Chargebolt and Red Riot wasting their time on a Beta? 

It just didn’t make much sense. They had the cream of the crop, omegas throwing themselves at the heroes left and right, matchmakers contacting them to find them an omega for free. Hell, some even tried to discredit them as alphas, saying they had to settle for a Beta. That type of response made you weary (well, you’d always been weary no matter how much they tried to dispel your fears).

They made sure to take you out every other day, sometimes they’d do individual dates but most of the time it was the three of you. Their embraces always made you comfortable, almost like you belonged with them. However, you still couldn’t ignore that inkling in your mind that made you doubt the likelihood of your relationship. 

Your doubts often consumed your thoughts, which pissed Kaminari and Kirishima off to no end. 

Kaminari was much more direct with his approach to your insecurities. He’d talk your ear off, send a few shocks to your core, and give you a faux innocent smile. “You’re so perfect for us, Y/N. There’s no need to be scared that you’re not enough.” 

Surprisingly, Kirishima is something else entirely in his wake to assure you. He’s dominant and domineering (which often ends up with you on your belly with your ass up as he spanks his words into your mind). It’s like night and day between the two of them. “Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you you’re meant for us? Or, maybe you like being spanked like this?” 

Eventually, you move in with them. It seemed natural at the time to be with them in that aspect so you could be with them every moment of the day. However, you still have your reservations. 

One day, you’re sitting on the couch in the living room watching some rom com when an advertisement pops on the screen. You knew you should’ve turned the channel but, you couldn’t help yourself as you felt enticed by what they were selling. 

Created specifically for Betas, a perfume that will make your scent more enticing to alphas. The perfect way to capture the attention of that special alpha you’ve been wanting. Guaranteed happiness for both you and your partner. How could you not put in an order for the scent? 

You didn’t really think it out, didn’t consider that Kaminari and Kirishima adore the way you smell. You just wanted to make them happy and you thought this was the easiest way. 

It took two long months for the perfume to be shipped out and one more month for it to be mailed to the correct address (apparently, a lot of other Betas had the same idea as yourself). The stuff was expensive, coming in at thirty-one thousand yen a bottle. 

‘This shit better work. I could’ve bought so much food with that money,’ you stare at the bottle as you contemplate whether or not you should really do it. ‘If this doesn’t work, they’ll be really pissed off.’

“Kirishima will be home early, SparkPlug. I have to stay behind for a mission. You sure you’ll be okay alone?” Kaminari had your face between his hands and your foreheads rested against one another’s. 

“Yes, Sparky. I’ll be fine. Go do your job,” you were going to enjoy this day off. You had worked double shifts the past month for this moment. 

He smirked, slowly brought your lips to his, and shocked you with his tongue, making your eyes dilate. “Be a good girl for us while we’re gone.” 

He left and you were not a good girl. You spent the whole day dousing yourself in the perfume (i.e. you literally dumped half the bottle into some bath water so it could fuse with your skin). You even bought a new babydoll negligee for when they came home. So, when Kirishima walked through the front door, you were walking around in your silk robe. 

“Kiri, babe I missed you,” you were waiting for him on the side of the door, legs exposed and your creamy skin distracting him for a few moments. 

“I-Uh missed you too, RockCandy,” he lifts you into his large arms, nuzzling your neck. He’s always called you RockCandy since he picked up the habit from Fatgum. “W-what is that smell?” Kirishima’s nose twitched at the obnoxious sweet scent that seemed to ooze out of your pores. 

“It’s a new perfume. How does it smell?” You were optimistic that he’d like it. That would mean that Kaminari would enjoy it too. And, that would mean that you could finally please them. 

“Sweetheart, honey, baby, love-“ 

“Just spit it out.” 

“I hate it,” Kirishima rubs your back to comfort you. 

“Oh,” you rest your head on his shoulder, wanting to cry. “Well, I’ll go take a shower.” 

You walk off before he can stop you, storming to the bathroom where the first thing you did was throw that stupid fucking bottle of lousy perfume in the small trash can near your bed. 

You’re pretty sure you heard the negligee rip a bit with how hard you pulled it off of your body and hopped into the shower. 

You’re crying out of frustration. Why did you think that was going to work? Were you really that desperate with changing yourself that you really did that? Who in their right mind does-

“Beta, what is this?” 

Huh? 

“What the fuck is this?” You peep your head from behind the curtain to see Kirishima holding the scent change bottle. 

“Uh it-it’s...y-you know! It’s on the damn bottle Kiri!” He grabs your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together. 

“What did you just say to me?” Kirishima’s face was close, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Are you challenging me, baby?” 

“Nooooo, no. Definitely not trying to challenge you at all. I’m just frustrated,” you pout. 

“That pout isn’t gonna help you. You think it’s okay to cuss at me just because you're frustrated?” You shake your head. “You think it’s okay to change yourself?” 

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, you can deny it but he’s seen the proof. On the other hand, you can come clean however, you doubt that you’ll get away with this unscathed. What to do?

“I just wanted to be better for the both of you. I know that I don’t smell the best and I know that you both could’ve done better,” you sniffle. 

“Y/N, get your ass in that shower and wash that shit off. I wanna smell what’s mine. Better hurry. Kaminari is on his way home,” you jump to action. You’re scrubbing your body with a loofa (it’s most likely one of your alphas). Apparently, he’s not gonna give you any sympathy. 

Kirishima sits on the toilet beside the shower, watching you like a hawk. Whenever you scrub between your legs, he licks his lips and his sharp teeth are exposed. He notices you staring at them and runs his teeth along the top. 

You want to draw the shower out but, you know Kirishima will pull you out once he knows that you are milking it. Plus, you want to get out before Kaminari gets home. 

You step out into the cold air and you’re wrapped in a towel by Kiri. His arms keep you caged against his broad chest, making you melt at the contact. The towel is the only thing separating him from seeing your naked body. 

“Kiri, I’ve got to get dressed.” 

“No, you get on the bed and take that towel off. I want you on your back with your legs spread, pussy open for me to eat. I’m sure Kaminari would love that too,” he pushes you forward, spanking your ass before you're completely away from his touch. 

So, yeah that’s how you ended up in that position, waiting for Kaminari to get home while Kirishima was leaving bite marks on your inner thighs. You grip the sheets while your face contorts with pleasure, his mouth dangerously close to the place you need him most but still denying you the pleasure you want. 

“Ohhh, Sparkplug, you couldn’t wait for me to get home?” You didn’t even hear the front door open as Kaminari came home. He sniffed as he crossed the threshold, something disgusting in the air, but he quickly tossed that aside when he heard your moans. 

Just imagine how good it felt for him to see you on your shared bed, pussy glistening with juices that he knows will soon be his meal, nipples pointing to the sky, face so beautiful and pleasured. 

“Kami, guess what our little girl did this time?” You tense a bit. 

“Must have been something good for this type of treatment,” Kaminari shed his clothes as he stepped further into the room, clothes beneath him as he settled next to Kirishima, spreading your legs even further to accommodate both of them. 

“Quite the opposite. This one decided to change her scent. Fucking nasty. Smelled nothing like her. She tried to change what we like,” and suddenly you're looking into the eyes of two alphas that are ready to punish their mate. 

“Did she?” 

“I’m sure you smelled it.”

“I did but, I assumed I was just smelling something wrong,” Kaminari drags his pinky against your clit, a small shock making you cry out. 

“Daddy, pleaseee,” drool is pooling a bit on the side of your mouth. 

“You’re not in any position to ask anything. Now, shush, the alphas are speaking,” you’re flooding the sheets with arousal, wetness slipping down the crack of your ass. “What do you think we should do to her?”

“I say we eat first then fuck her so hard she can’t question anything,” Kirishima has a dark small on his face. “She needs some good ole’ DP therapy.” 

“I was just thinking the same thing,” they both flatten their tongue and lick on your outer lips at the same time, holding one of your legs on each of their shoulders for some stability. Kaminari’s tongue stiffens to push into your weeping hole while Kirishima nibbles softly on your clit. Their saliva makes you wetter than you already were. 

Both groan at the taste of you when they first make contact. Your sweet tang is something neither of them will ever tire of. Both of them hold your legs open as they feast, your juices rushing down their chins as you can feel some of your essence squirt when the pleasure keeps building up. It was hard enough trying not to cum since you didn’t have permission but it seemed like they didn’t care as they didn’t even slow down. They licked up your juice, Kaminari sucking on your clit while Kirishima speared his tongue into your hole, hardening his tongue when he got far enough to touch that special spot within you.

Your legs are shaking, your vision dotted black as they draw away from you, making you think that maybe they will have mercy on you. Not even close. Kaminari laid down on the bed, your juices against his back as Kirishima settled your core over his mouth, essentially putting you in a position to ride Kaminari’s face. His tongue continued its work as Kirishma pushed you over a bit, exposing your backhole to him. He licked his lips with anticipation, thinking about the last time you allowed him to do this. 

‘It’s been too long,’ Kirishima thinks to himself as he starts to slowly prod at your asshole with his tongue, his hands spreading your ass so he can push his tongue in further. At the same time, Kaminari sent a spark on your clit, the feeling making you clench your toes as you rocked back onto Kirishima’s tongue. 

“Pleaseeee, don’t wanna wait any longer. Please, fuck me,” Kirishima laughed at your begging. “Kiri, pleasee.”

“What’s my name?” Kirishima leaned over to the nightstand beside the bed to pull out some lube, squirting some onto his cock and onto your hole. He knew he would have to prep you, so he slipped one finger into your hole, meeting little resistance. Another two were pushed in and you squealed as you felt his fingers stretch you further. “You’re crying already, baby? I haven’t even got myself in you yet.” 

“Daddy, please,” your throat was feeling raw from all the crying you were doing.

“Want your daddies to fuck your slutty holes?” you nodded fervently. “I need vocal confirmation.”

“Fuck your slutty holes! Aghh fuck yes please,” that was enough confimation for Kaminari to slide you down his body, stuffing you full of his cock with no warning, You groaned as you felt Kirishima withdraw his fingers and replace them with his girthy cock, pushing into you inch by inch. You were now panting like a bitch in heat as Kaminari pumped into you, his cock bumping into Kirishima’s within you. 

“Fuck, I can feel you bro,” Kaminari didn’t slow down as he kissed your neck and fucked into you. He groaned as Kirishima started to move, pushing in whenever he pulled out. They were working in synchrony. 

“Bro, look at our baby. No omega could ever take our knots like this. Isn’t that right?” Kaminari held your throat in his hands, cock pumping your pussy from beneath you. 

“So fucking tight baby. Doing a good job for your alphas,” you lean down to kiss him, whining into his mouth as Kirishima spreads your ass to spear his cock into your ass at a deeper angle. Every stroke hits your walls from both holes, making your legs shake at the intensity. 

You scream as you feel another orgasm attacking you, its ferocity ripping you apart as you could do nothing but lay there and cry on your alphas cocks. All the sensations were becoming too much as you tried to squirm away, making both alphas grip onto you. 

“Don’t fucking run,” Kaminari growled into your ear.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re gonna lay here and take what we fucking give you,” Kirishima breathed into your ear as he leaned over your body, his sweaty chest on your sweaty back. True to his word, they continued to fuck you through your orgasms, calling you their perfect little slut. 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Kaminari was the first to cum in your pussy, making a delicious creamipe from Kirishima’s view. He reached down to your clit, stroking it hard as he groaned. 

“One last time baby. I know you can uhahhh fuck fuck yes there ya go baby. All over daddy's cock,” you came over both of them, Kirishima erupting in your ass as he laid down on your back, squishing you between them as their cocks kept their cum in you. 

“Don’t ever think you aren’t enough for us. You’ll always be more than enough.” 

#bnha #anime #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #mha #mha fanfiction #ao3 #author regrets nothing #fanfiction writer #omega #omegaverse #omega reader #abo dynamics #a/b/o dynamics #alpha kirishima #alpha!kaminari #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #polygamy #we’re all quirkless losers

[ynisamenace]

Headcanons for Tamaki, Bakugou and Eraserhead being in a relationship with dom! black reader

a/n: hi guys, I’m so happy and so grateful for all the follows and notes you guys have given me over the past few days💜. I’m working on a part 2 of ‘Party for One’ but here’s some headcannons I made for the meantime.

Amajiki Tamaki

Tamaki has always been more submissive in general. He tended to be a pushover at times which makes it easier for people to mess with him, which makes his anxiousness skyrocket at times. 

That was until he met you. You became friends with him after he graduated high school, fresh faced and promoted at his hero agency. You caught his eye the first day he came to work at his new office and stuck with him finding his shyness adorable but also helping him improve in his confidence.

He was entranced by your beauty, the way your tiny afro smelled like (favourite scent) when you walked by him, your lovely voice greeting him every morning, the way your vibrant melanin-filled skin contrasts with his paleness; your constant presence made him develop a crush on you but he never had the confidence to tell you to your face.

You of course weren’t aware of his little crush and his jumpiness and nervousness with you because you thought it was just his normal anxiety. It wasn’t until you overheard him talking to his friend and co-worker, Fatgum that you realized what it really was.

After that you actively sought out Tamaki just to see him be so flustered by your presence 😏 but after a while you had pity on the poor boy and asked him out for coffee and it all went uphill from there.

Loves buying you flowers and dropping them at your desk before you come into work every morning. Seeing your face light up as you read the little notes he leaves you makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. He just loves seeing you smile in general this man is so whipped😩

He asked you to move in together after the first 4 months of dating and although you disagreed at the time, after your 6 months anniversary and him basically pleading about it every 5 mins, you finally gave in cause how could you say no to that face🥺

NSFW below

As soon as you officially moved in with him, Tamaki before more affectionate... way more affectionate. Cuddles, kisses, squeezes; everything he could to show you how physically attracted he was to you.

The topic of sex comes up one day when you’re both on the couch, you on his lap and him trailing kisses down your neck. You’ve never gone past steamy make out sessions with eachother but it was clear that you both were very much ready to take the next step

Despite his shy demeanor, Tamaki is way more confident as well as loud in the bedroom. Loud whimpers as you trail your nails down his abs which turn into loud moans as you free his cock from his briefs giving him the best handjobs he’s ever gotten.

Tamaki sometimes does feel insecure about your relationship and about you having to have asked him out first, so he tends to overcompensate in the bedroom. This man is a huge power top. He loves making you feel good, he loves you telling him what to do and will do anything you ask with no hesitation.

Could eat you out for breakfast everyday if he could and definitely incorporates his quirk into it👀. Loves when you trap his head between your thighs it makes him feel warm. He loves when you tie him to the bed and edge him for hours on end while kissing his pretty tears away. He gets off on being vulnerable with you like that and has the most mind blowing orgasms once you decide to take pity on him.

Loves when you sit in his lap and let him suckle on your nipples while caressing his hair. Soft moments like that are what make him fall in love with you even more. Pegging also makes him fall in love with you even more, but more in a sexual manner. Looks at you like a goddess whenever you have his legs spread out, driving your strap-on into him so hard it makes his eyes cross.

Aftercare is so soft and private with you two. Untying his limbs from the bed, putting ointment and kisses on his bruises, cleaning him up with a wet rag and finally laying next to him on the bed, his face in your chest as you whisper praises and sweet nothings into his hair. God he was going to marry you one day.

Bakugou Katsuki

 Bakugou met you while in U.A High but didn’t start dating you until almost 3 years after graduation You had never interacted that much in high school as you always saw him as the immature, rash and not considerate of others feelings

  He gave off an air of someone commanding and who would never submit and you had never really cared for such men; the macho ‘call-me-daddy’ type men he actually did jokingly tell you to once when you guys were arguing which just made you steer clear of him more, angering him further.

 After graduating, Bakugou became more mature, choosing to develop himself into a better person than he was in high school, and became the no 2 hero of Japan, creating his own hero agency. You started working at his agency 2 years after graduation, you also steadily climbing the ranks of the hero world landing in the top ten heroes list. He began harbouring a crush on you soon after, looking for ways to finally confess to you but were still adamant on avoiding him, still believing him to be the same immature boy that he was in highschool.

  One day, Bakugou couldn’t take it anymore and cornered you in a hallway, confessing quickly while a light blush was dusted on his cheeks. He also apologized for the way he acted in highschool and basically pleaded to go on a date with you although he’ll never admit it lol

   After his confession, you both started hanging out more both at work and outside of work. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend after the third date when he came to your apartment to cook your favourite dish for you after a grueling day at work and you happily agreed as long as he promised to continue cooking for you which led to you two moving in together a year later.

  Dating the number 2 hero in Japan was not easy to say the least. Late night and early mornings plagued both of your lives, sometimes not being able to catch eachother at home at the same time for weeks on end. This led to arguments that turned into silent treatments until you both came to your senses and apologized to one another. He hates fighting with you, fearing you’ll leave him due to his occasional outbursts.

  When you guys do fight, he apologizes through gift giving and cuddles, since he’s not very good with words. Loves buying you brightly coloured clothes and jewelry that matches your skin tone because you look ethereal to him in them. Sometimes steals glances at you just to admire your skin and whatever protective style you’re wearing.

NSFW below

   You and Bakugou had a long talk before you both started getting intimate. Although he was more mature, he still didn’t want to be submissive in the bedroom as he thought it would make him less ‘masculine’. He kept refusing until you managed to wear him down one day, him grumbling about how stupid it would be.

  Oh how wrong he was because this man thrives off of your dominance now. A bratty power bottom, he loves making you put him in his place, which is always under you. Something about you having the confidence to ‘dominate’ the number 2 hero in Japan makes him melt. Is very much into cock and ball torture and just humiliation and degradation in general. Loves seeing you in leather cause it gives you that dominatrix look that makes him whimper

  Very teary eyed when getting pegged and loves when you grab his hair to pull him back and lick his tears away. But at the same time, loves when you mercilessly keep pounding into him despite his tears, choking back a sob as he orgasms for the umpteenth time.

  Is the type of sub that looks like a dom out in public but has a vibrating buttplug inside him during meetings as he glances to you as you smirk and turn up the intensity every few seconds.

  The biggest brat ever omg he will rile you up on purpose just so that you can punish him by locking him in a chastisy cage and riding his favourite strap on you put on him, all while denying him the pleasure of touching you. That’s when he begs the most, mind dumb and babbling nonsense until you finally let his pretty little cock out.

  Aftercare is in equal parts for both of you as sometimes you get dom drop after long sessions. He knows that it can make you feel guilty o sometimes regretful and makes sure to tell you how much he loves you after every session. You also reassure him that he is more than enough for you, limbs tangled together in bed as you doze off next to him.

   His lips curl into a little smile as he falls asleep as well, thinking of you and the engagement ring he’s yet to give you in his bedside drawer.

Shota Aizawa

 Aizawa had never actively looked for people to date. He felt like he had too much on his plate already with class 1-A and didn’t think anyone would be willing to date someone whose life was so hectic. So when you joined U.A as a new teacher in class in class 1-B, he didn’t bat an eye only glancing at you at times as you pass the hallway.

 Glances turned into stares which turned into thinking about you and how your mini twists framed your face so perfectly and how soft your skin looked and how your darks eyes drew him in and-

 Fuck

  Ok so maybe he did have space on his plate for dating cause duh look at you.  He asked you out by whispering in your ear during homeroom one day as he dropped off a stack of papers on your desk. You were taken aback by his boldness but accepted nonetheless. You didn’t know it, but Aizawa had fallen for you long before he got the balls to ask you out😏

 You dated for 3 years and lived together after 2 until you walked into the kitchen one morning and saw him on one knee, flowers petals everywhere and a small smile as he asks “Marry me?” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry oh to be proposed to by Shota Aizawa😭

 He loves referring to you as his wife and loves when you come to 1-A to give him his bento box, even though he acts like he hates it. Let’s you in his sleeping bag for a nap in the break room, even though Present Mic comes in to annoy both of you most of the time.

 Melts when he sees you interacting with the kids in 1-A, even heard Deku slip up and call you mom once when you came to his class to greet him.

 Nsfw below

 Speaking of kids guess who has a big fat breeding kink. Even though you both know you’re not exactly prepared to have kids at the moment, the risk that comes with him making love to you raw turns him on. You definitely exploit his kink by telling degrading him, saying how he doesn’t deserve to cum inside you with his useless cock and that just makes him want to prove you wrong, rutting into you faster as he whimpers about making you feel good.

  Loves when you take him from behind and bend him on a surface and fucking him like a little whore, scarf stuffed into his mouth as a make-shift gag when he gets too loud. Especially when you do it on one of the desks in his classroom after hours, the embarrassment of a seeing a student sitting on it the next day making his brain fog and his cum leak out, painting the floor and the desk white as he spasms in your hold, tongue lolling out as you press him to the floor to clean up his mess.

  Is into somnophilia and has woken up many times to you bouncing on his cock, refusing to let him cum until you’re satisfied with the amount of orgasms he’s given you.

 Has definitely sniffed your panties before, even pocketing them into his dress pants and taking them to work with him, all so he can use them to fist his cock in the staff restrooms, panting like a dog in heat as sobs your name into his hand, secretly wanting to get caught by you.

 He loves your aftercare so much. Running baths for both of you, kissing the hickeys and scratches you left on him and letting him lay in your arms when his body gives out. Genuinely loves pushing past his limits with you because he knows he trusts you.

  Definitely the best husband and the best lover ever 10/10 would recommend.

Tags: @itzgabz22

#mha x black reader #mhaxblackreader! #my hero academia #bnha smut #dom!reader #tamaki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #aizawa x reader #sub!character #blackreader! #gn!reader #fem! reader #bnha fluff #ceowrites

[heartless-symphony]

Spencie

Summary : Four time you called him Spencie, and the one time he really didn’t mind.

Pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category : fluff

Warnings : some curse words, semi-nudity kinda ??

Word count : 3,652 (even I am surprised)

Proof reader : @hannahjoycebanana​ (thank u for being here when i needed it and thank you for being my proof reader here. You’re one of the best friend i could’ve asked for.)

A/N : It took me so long to come back to tumblr because i had some issues, and i didn’t want to come back until i as finished with at least one of my project. Here it is, i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

MASTERLIST

1- New friends

“Spencie !” Your excited voice pierced the silence in the almost empty bullpen, as it was pretty early. It didn’t seem to matter to you, you seemed as excited, as full of energy as usual. Your eyes were shining happily, and it didn’t take a profiler to know that it wasn’t your first cup of coffee. You were new to the team, joining it after the whole “cat adams” situation, and you weren’t aware of the meaning of the nickname to him. That’s why he tried not to be angry, but you could see his jaw and his fists clenching in a attempt to control himself. You moved closer to him, poking his nose with your fingers – you knew how he was with touches, but you couldn’t help yourself – before walking away. He gulped, frozen in his position. It was only JJ’s arrival in the room that made him move, but still. His eyes flickered to you, already focused on something other than himself, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know how to explain his situation to you, how to ask you not to call him that again, but he didn’t want to have to talk about it all over again. He already lived it almost every nights in his nightmares, remembered the prison, the games she played with his heart, his family, his everything. He didn’t want to see the look of pity on your face, he didn’t want things to change. However, he couldn’t just let you remind him of it, every day. So, silently, almost hesitantly, he walked up to your desk, were you were silently reading a report, taking notes on what to correct and what to work on. You were in your own world and didn’t see him coming, so he had to clear his throat, calling your name. You looked up and smiled softly.

“Hi, Spencie ! Anything I can do ?”

Your voice made your blonde coworker look up, and her worried eyes fell on Spencer, meeting his. He sighed and slowly shook his head. He saw your frown, your eyes swinging between JJ and him, fully knowing you were missing something. He looked up to you and you almost winced at the pain and anger in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it.

“Just, don’t call me Spencie, please.”

You frowned and were about to object when you met JJ’s eyes, and she shook her head, silently being you to accept. So you simply nodded and played with your hair, feeling sorry even though you had no idea what you did wrong. He sent you a sad, forced smile, before walking back to his desk, his fist slowly unclenching, and you could almost see the anger leave his body

2- Dance with me

The second time, you were pretty drunk. He was watching you dancing with the rest of the girl, well, he was watching you all from afar, silently sipping on his lemonade drink. He watched you move your body in rhythm, obviously singing the lyrics that you seemed to know so well. He was almost hypnotized with the way you moved, the way you held your hands up happily, or playfully danced with Morgan – Spencer didn’t want to admit it, but it made him clench his jaw. After a while, a new song started, and he knew you were up to something bad the minutes you walked up to him, moving your hips.

“Spencie ! Come and dance with me !”

He almost didn’t say anything. You were drunk, you didn’t know what you were saying and he couldn’t blame you. But still, the memories came back in an instant, the pain, the worry, the anger, and he looked away, shaking his hand.

“I don’t dance. And please, stop calling me like that.”

You pouted, tugging on his shirt. You obviously hadn’t gotten the message, and with the number of drinks you had he couldn’t really get mad, but still. One part of him felt grateful, happy even to be the one who caught your attention, but the other part sent him warning signals, remembering the last person who called him like that. He shoved you away as gently as he could, and it seemed like you had finally caught on. Still pouting, you pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine.” He could hear the disappointment in your drunken voice, and he almost stood up to dance with you. “I’ll go find someone else.” You turned around, arms down scanning the crowd for a potential partner. Before you could even take a step, you felt a hand gently wrap around your arm and you looked back, only to meet Spencer’s eyes. You smiled widely and jumped up happily. “Let’s go dancing !” He sighed and tugged you back to him. The only reason he accepted to dance with you was because he couldn’t stand to watch you flirt with someone else – no, he wasn’t jealous. Just a bit protective of his favorite girl, that was all. He almost slapped himself for his thought. You were just a friend. He had no right to be jealous of seeing you go to some other guy to enjoy your evening when he was right here. And what mattered the most was your smile, so contagious. He wasn’t jealous. He was doing it to make you happy, that was all !

“There’s one condition.” You tilted your head, showing that you were listening. Even drunk, you stayed that respectful, kind girl he liked so much. “You need to stop drinking, and you need to stop calling me Spencie. I’m serious, Y/N.” You pouted a bit, obviously not pleased by his ‘no more drink’ rule, but you ended up nodding, leading him to the dance floor. Seeing you smile made him forget, for a moment, the bad memories brought by the so simple nickname, replacing them with images of your smile.

 3- Spencie Undercover

The third time, it wasn’t really your fault. You and Spencer being the only one who hadn’t been showed on the news, you were the ones who had to go undercover. The fact that you had to act as a couple pleased Spencer more than he would admit, because the warmth of your hand against his was calming, soothing. Almost as if it was always supposed to be here. You walked in the restaurant, hand in hand, talking about some book you read after he recommended it to you. Morgan and Hotch had specified that you had to act as normally as possible, so you had immediately started a small talk. You two were already so close that acting as a couple wasn’t too problematic, except that he couldn’t really tear his eyes away from you. You were wearing a blue dress, your hair in a braid falling on your right shoulder. Your back was naked, and Spencer did his best not to notice how pretty you looked. You were wearing some light makeup, and he knew that, under your dress, your gun was ready to be fired. He didn’t even want to think about it - the way the holster was hugging your leg, and maybe you would have to lift the skirt of your dress to take it out-, but his mind couldn’t stop the image to keep coming up. You walked up to the counter, asking for your table, while he scanned the room. Happily, he quickly found what he was looking for, or who. He used his famous trick to make them change spot - the usual light problem - ending up as close as he could to the target. It was a young man, flirting with a beautiful woman who was probably going to end up to be the next victim. However, Spencer and you were here to stop him. You didn’t have enough to arrest him just yet, but all you needed was for him and his target to go outside, where he would try and attack her -like he did with all his other victims-. But you and Spencer were ready to jump in at any moment, collect some intel on him if possible. It wasn’t a date, and it seemed hard for both of you to remember that. You just liked to be in each other’s company, and Spencer continuous rants made you feel weirdly safe, just as much as he loved to hear your not-so-silent singing and your excited eyes every time you talked about a book you read. If one of you had the guts to talk about your feelings for each other, it would have been a long time since you would’ve been together.

“Should we share a fondant, Spencie ?”

The use of the nickname made him suddenly look up from the menu. You were about to order dessert - the unsub’s ‘date’ seemed to take longer than they all wished - and he didn’t think you’d think about that. He opened his mouth, frowning a bit, ready to tell you, once again, to stop using that so horrible nickname, but then he saw you, really saw you. You had on that special smile you only gave to him, a bit playful, a bit flirty and a lot shy, but your eyes were fond, almost loving. He bit down his lips, his heart skipping a bit. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot to answer. You called his name again - his name, not the nickname - and he slowly nodded. Suddenly, he missed it. He missed the way ‘Spencie’ seemed to roll off your tongue so easily, like it was made for it. The bad memories that Cat Adams had stuck him with seemed to disappear every time you used the nickname, every time you two were close. You seemed to make all the hurt, all the pain disappear, and that was probably why he couldn’t stop looking at your lips, wondering why he never kissed you before.

4- I’m tired, Spencie

 The fourth time felt totally different. You all had to share rooms and, Spencer and you ending up all alone, you had no choice but share a room. Share a bed. Which wouldn’t have bothered Spencer if it was anyone else, but it felt different with you. Everything did. You were both really tired after the days and sleepless nights you spent trying to catch the unsub – some woman poisoning pregnant women, hoping to get their baby -. The craziness of the situation had taken you both a bit longer to find her – You were specialized in linguistic, body language but, most importantly, psychology – You knew the unsub had to have some kind of mental illness, but neither of you understood how this woman expected to get a baby from a dead woman. Either way, you were both tired, really, really tired. Spencer was used to it, so it didn’t show much on you, but you hadn’t been on the team long enough to get used to sleepless nights and busy days full of thinking too much and running around. You stumbled in the room, closely followed by Spencer. His eyes were full of worry, because your brain really seemed to work differently. It was like you had held up walls all day, acting like your fatigue wasn’t having a huge impact on you, but as soon as you ended up all alone after the case finished, the walls crumbled down      . Your eyes weren’t shining anymore and you had trouble keeping them open, making you walk around like you were lost – or drunk -. Spencer kindly guided you to the bed, where you sat down, rubbing your eyes. He knew you were too tired to get changed, but staying in your dirty clothes was definitely not a good idea. You could shower in the morning, he didn’t mind, but there was no way he would let you sleep dressed like that.

“Where are your pajamas, Y/N ?” His voice made you look up, and it took you a second to answer, like your brain needed time to register the question. You tilted your head, rubbing your eyes, before pointing to your go-bag. “Pink hoodie. Do I really have too ? ‘M too tired, Spencie…”

Spencer tried not to smile. He really did, he tried to feel angry, sad or just.. Something. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he actually liked you using this nickname. He forced a sigh, before nodding and reaching in your go bag to take out the clearly oversized pink hoodie, and blushed as he looked away from your underwear. He gently walked up to you, handing you your hoodie. You shook your head, raising your arms like a child. He sighed again and tried not to blush as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off you. He looked away from you as he waited for you to take off your bra, handing you the hoodie, his eyes focused on the wall. He might have been very attracted to you, but that never meant he would do something so stupid. Once you were clothed again, he helped you take of your shoes  well, he took off your shoes while you laid across the bed, eyes closed and silently singing some tangled song -, before gently tugging on the bottom off your legging. He was hopping you would sit up and help him take it off so he wouldn’t have to be too close, but you were so deep in a tired, child-like mood that you simply lifted your legs, yawning. He sighed again and very carefully took off your leggings, and he was glad that your hoodie was long enough to hide your underwear and upper thighs.

“Here you go. Now try and sleep, yea ?” He watched you nod and smiled softly, shaking his head as he tried to forget how close you two were. He made sure you were looking away – you were curled up in a ball, facing away from you – before getting changed and slipping in the bed. He thought you were already asleep, but as soon as you felt the mattress dip under his weight, you snuggled up to him. He froze as he felt your head against him, pushing him to lay down. As soon as he did, you got even closer, your head resting against his chest, where you could hear his heart beat. You smiled tiredly, looking up and gently kissing his cheeks, your eyes almost closed, before snuggling back against him. “Night Night, Spencie…” Your voice slowly went silent and, very quickly, he could feel your breathing slow down. After making sure you were asleep, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you even close, and kissed the top of you head. He smiled sadly and closed his eyes. For the first time in month, Spencer actually slept, dreaming about you in a field of flowers, your light bringing a smile to his lips.

 5- Your Spencie

The next morning, Spencer woke up before you. You were so beautiful, sleeping peacefully, your hair surrounding your face in such a beautiful way. He smiled sadly, stroking your hair. He hated the fact that you were so close, but he couldn’t have you, couldn’t touch you, couldn’t kiss you. Lost in his mind, in his imagination, he didn’t realize you were waking up, slowly lifting your head up. You smiled softly. You didn’t remember much about the evening before, your brain having shut off before you even walked into the room, but you knew that you an Spencer had slept together. Well, in the same bed, at least. And you felt his hand in your hair, stroking it gently. Before you could even register what you were doing, you gently pecked his lips before snuggling back into him. “Morning, Spencie.”

Spencer froze. Was he dreaming ? He could still feel your lips on his own, but it felt so irreal. He looked down at you, frowning. After the minute of silence, you realized what you had done and looked up, ready to say sorry and die in shame. Your eyes met Spencer’s and suddenly, you felt home. It seemed so normal, so comfortable. His hand slowly, hesitantly moved from your hair to your cheek, stroking it gently.

“Good Morning, Y/N.” You smiled sadly. Was he going to avoid the topic of your kiss ? Was this the end of your very special friendship ? Spencer must have felt the worry growing up inside you, seeing it in your eyes, and he leaned down, gently kissing you. When your lips met, it felt like your two worlds collided, melting into one. He hesitantly licked your bottom lips and you shyly opened your mouth, letting the kiss go further. Your hands flew to his hair as you sat up, and one of his hand helped you both lean against the wall behind the bed, before settling on your waist. It didn’t went further, it was a simple kiss, but it felt like it was meant to be. Neither of you wanted to pull away, breathing through your noses, making sure to keep a steady pace – no matter how fast you wanted to go, no matter how many feelings you wanted to put into the kiss -. He was still stroking your cheek, your hand was still in his hair, playing with his curls, when someone knocked on the door.

“Spencer ? Y/N ? It’s almost time to go, you guys ready ?”

Spencer growled against your mouth and pulled away, the look on his face telling you exactly what he was going to say – something along the line of ‘fuck off, Morgan’ – and you gently put your hand over his mouth, smiling softly. “We’ll be down in ten minutes ! I can’t find some of my clothes. We won’t be long !”

You heard a laugh, and bit your lips, waiting to hear Morgan walk away. As soon as he did, you pulled your hand away from Spencer’s mouth, looking back at him. His eyes were shining, and where you expected to see lust – after all, you were straddling him, wearing nothing but a hoodie and underwear -, all you could see was love and deep respect. He smiled and kissed you again, but you put your hands against his chest, gently pulling away. “We need to get ready, Spencie.”

His smiled softly and you got up, grabbing your clothes and running to the bathroom to get ready. As he got changed in a corner of the room, Spencer thought about the way you talked to him, the way you called him. For once Spencie didn’t feel like a curse, but more like a symbol of good memories. Everything that had happened with Cat was slowly fading away, replaced by the images of your smile, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your skin against his fingertip. You quickly walked out once you were sure he was fully clothed, and went to pack your go-bag. Spencer walked behind you, gently touching your back. You jumped in surprise, before leaning against him, laughing softly.

“You scared me.” He laughed and you smiled even more, leaning against him. “As an FBI agent, you should definitely be ready for any threat to come at any moment.” You laughed even more at his statement, turning around to put your hand against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Are you a threat, Doctor ?”. You pulled away almost immediately, grinning from ear to ear. He smiled, shaking his head before letting you finish packing, grabbing his stuff and leaning against the wall.

“You know, we should talk about it.” You looked up, worry in your eyes. “Do you regret it, Spencer ?” His eyes widened and he shook his head, walking up to you. He put your go-back down, cupping your cheeks, and all you could see in his eyes was a deep, powerful love.

“I could never regret what happened today. You found a way to my heart that I didn’t even know existed, and managed to break down all my walls. After Cat, after Max, I thought I could never feel anything for someone else. Cat destroyed my thrust, Max and I just didn’t work out. But you already know all that. What I mean to say is, you destroyed all the bad memories, changed the way I felt. I couldn’t stand anyone calling me Spencie because of everything that happened with Cat but, now… It’s all I want to hear coming from you. I can’t imagine anyone else who had the power, the impact to make things change so quickly, so strongly. You are one of a kind, Y/N, and I could never regret what happened this morning. All I hope is that it won’t be a one-time thing, all I want is to keep you by my side no matter what happens. I couldn’t stand to lose you and all those amazing memories you stuck in my head. I think... I think I love you, Y/N. And I should’ve acted on it sooner, I would’ve, if I knew you liked me. But we’re here now and I promise you, I will cherish the memories of this day all my life.”

You didn’t know what to say, and could see the worry grow in his eyes with the time you took to answer. Before he could pull away, you put one hand over his, keeping it on your cheek, and put your other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Pushing on your toes, your lips met, and you never felt as safe as you did in this moment. You were home, and so was he. Your Spencie.

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Reid #criminal mind x reader #spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #how do you tag #just criminal minds stuff #fluff #spencer reid fluff

[jaskierswolf]

An Ocean Away

Geraskier soulmate AU - A gift for my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde.

Words: 3.8k

CW:  Big mutual pining, long distance friendships, and a lot of swearing, fucking the ocean is not advised...

Read on AO3

___________

Jaskier stared at his phone and sighed loudly. Geralt was still asleep and really Jaskier should be working but he missed him. How that was even possible he wasn’t sure, they’d never even met. Geralt was all the way across the other side of the fucking ocean. Jaskier hated it. The soul bond had snapped into place on Jaskier’s birthday. He’d waited up until midnight, shaking with excitement. He’d known there was a chance his soulmate was younger than him but he didn’t care, his soulmate would be worth the wait.

Luckily for him, Geralt was a couple of years older. 

Unluckily for him, Geralt also lived in America. 

He sighed again and thumped his head against his desk, earning a withered glare from his boss across the room. God, he really needed to get out of his job. He was an artist, a musician! He shouldn’t be stuck in an office inputting data. 

‘Geralt….’  He called out mentally, hoping to reach his soulmate in his dreams but it was no use. Geralt was down for the count and probably wouldn’t wake up for several hours. 

Instead, Jaskier sighed loudly for the third time and remembered their first conversation with a fond smile. 

‘Helloooooo’ he called out, fidgeting with his bedsheets. ‘anybody there?’

‘What the fuck?’ a gruff response came and Jaskier could just about make out the image of some kind of restaurant if he focussed hard enough, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

‘You’re American?!’ he wanted to cry. He couldn’t afford to fly out to America, not unless he followed his sisters into the family business and regained access to the Bank of Dad. 

‘Fuck.’

Ah so his soulmate was a man of many words. He grinned a flopped back onto his bed. ‘I’m Jaskier, by the way, I’m from England.’

‘I’m at work, can this wait?’ his soulmate growled. 

Jaskier’s heart sank. ‘Right, yes, yes… of course. I umm… well I need to go to sleep. I’m bloody exhausted. Wake me up when you’re finished?’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt hadn’t managed to wake him up. Although he still maintained to this day that he’d yelled out as much as he could without actually yelling aloud, and Jaskier had slept through the whole damn thing. Geralt’s mind was pretty quiet. He didn’t often project his thoughts unless they were actively conversing. Jaskier on the other hand kept up a steady stream of thoughts, showing Geralt the pretty flowers that he saw on the way to work, or humming new songs just for his soulmate to hear, anything that he thought Geralt might find interesting. 

He pressed the home button on his phone again. Barely five minutes since the last time he’d checked. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet, let alone time for Geralt to wake up. He hoped they’d have time to video chat before Geralt had to go to work that evening but he was pretty sure that his soulmate was on an early shift. He groaned, and reluctantly started angrily jabbing at his keyboard. The endless stream of emails and shitty clients were not helping his mood. Why couldn’t Geralt be on a closing shift? At least then they’d be able to talk properly before Jaskier had to go to sleep. 

“Would you stop being so pathetic, Julian?” Valdo sneered from the desk opposite Jaskier’s. 

“You’re just angry because your soulmate hasn’t made contact yet,” Jaskier snapped back. 

They were both twenty-four and Valdo’s soulmate was either ignoring him or was still underage. Jaskier almost pitied the man; almost. 

“Just get on with your work, Julian and stop clock watching.”

Jaskier muttered a few rather inappropriate for work words under his breath and turned back to his computer. He managed to get one whole email dealt with before losing focus again. He shifted in his seat so he could sit cross-legged on the chair, and then tried again. After another few emails his feet started to tingle. 

“Oh bollocks,” he whined and jumped off the chair, hopping around the office. 

“For god’s sake, Julian!”

“My name… is Jaskier!” He snapped “and I’ve got bloody pins and needles!”

‘Jaskier?’ Geralt’s voice was bleary and slurred in his mind.

He squeaked and promptly fell on his arse, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from grinning madly. “Geralt’s awake!” he announced to the office. 

“Take your lunch early,” Tissaia sighed “God only knows you won’t get anything else done until you’ve spoken to Geralt.”

Jaskier beamed at his boss. Fuck he could kiss her. She was so understanding and wonderful and… 

And he still hadn’t responded to Geralt!

‘Geralt, darling, hello!’ he trilled happily in his mind, spinning his chair around so he was sitting backwards. 

‘Are you ok?’ Geralt hummed ‘Felt angry.’

Jaskier squeaked, unable to contain the swell of love in his chest. God damn it he just wanted to hug Geralt. It wasn’t fair. Priscilla and Essi had only lived two towns away from each other. Triss had grown up with Yennefer, and yet Jaskier was stuck with a soulmate on the other side of the fucking planet. 

‘Fuck the ocean,’ he grumbled

He heard Geralt’s laughter, echoed with a phantom feeling of mirth that wasn’t his own. ‘Fuck the ocean’ he agreed. 

‘I’m moving to America, I’m going to invent portals and I am never letting you go,’  Jaskier sighed. 

Geralt hummed again. He was tired, Jaskier could feel it. ‘Go back to sleep, darling.’

‘When’s your lunch break over?’

‘I have half hour.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Jaskier smiled dopily at his phone. There was a picture of Geralt and his horse, Roach, on the lock screen. He unlocked it quickly to check his clock app. He knew the timezone difference by heart at this point but he still needed to check. It was a habit that he had yet to break. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Jaskier felt like crying. He just wanted to hold his soulmate. He wanted to know whether that love was platonic or romantic or what? He just… he knew he would love Geralt with every fibre of his being, and would be happy no matter what. That’s how soulmates worked after all. They were your match, and not everyone’s match was romantic. 

Oh but how he yearned.  He was pathetic. 

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too’ Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt an ache through the bond that wasn’t his. He smiled sadly. He wasn’t the only one being pathetic. 

They fell silent, Jaskier gazing longingly at his lock screen, trying desperately not to fall apart in the middle of his office. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe he should just quit his job and move to America. His soulmate was American so he wouldn’t have to worry about visas as long as he could prove Geralt was his. He just…. 

“Fuck,” he groaned and buried his head in his arms. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and there was a lump caught in his throat. “Sorry, Tissaia. I’m, I’m, well, I’m going for a walk.”

He practically launched out of his chair towards the door. Not even bothering to grab his coat. He closed his eyes and reached out to Geralt, feeling a phantom embrace as Geralt reached back. It wasn’t as good as a real hug but no real hug could soothe the ache of having to live so far apart from his soulmate. 

‘Jask?’

Jaskier practically ran away from his office, down the road towards the woodland that surrounded the campus. His hands were pulling at his hair and he muttered nonsense under his breath. He counted every step that took him away from the building. He liked to imagine that every step brought him closer to Geralt but really he wasn’t entirely sure. 

‘I miss you,’ he hummed again. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ve never even met… six years Geralt! Fuck it, fuck this shit, fuck this job,’ he kicked at the ground. ‘I don’t even want to work in an office. It was supposed to be temporary.’

‘Then quit?’

Jaskier snorted. ‘I can’t afford it.’

His father’s face flitted in front of him. He could afford it if only he weren’t so bloody stubborn. He could work in his father’s company and he could go to America to see Geralt. Why couldn’t he just accept that? Why was he insisting on making his own way?

‘Jaskier, no. It’s not worth it,’ Geralt’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket. ‘Don’t compromise on your dreams for me.’

‘But I love you!’ he whined pitifully. 

‘I know and I love you too, but you’ll only resent me.’

Jaskier huffed and slid to the ground, his back resting against a tree. He rest his forehead on his knees and began to cry. Soulmates weren’t supposed to live apart for this long, it was too taxing on both parties but destiny had been cruel to them. He sobbed helplessly, his body shuddering as he dug his nails into the grass, tearing up chunks and throwing them away. 

It was only when he heard his phone ring that he managed sort of pull himself out of it. He wiped his eyes and peered at the phone. 

Geralt.

Of course it was, Geralt. His soulmate was video calling him. He swiped the screen to pick up and sniffed loudly. He didn’t need to sniff as loudly as he did, and he didn’t need to pout pathetically at the screen as he picked up… but he was sad and dramatic. He wanted extra sympathy points from Geralt. 

“Hi,” he whined, still pouting and widening his eyes slightly for added effect. Geralt’s room was dark, just a small light turned on just out of the camera. It was a shame because he couldn’t ogle the other man quite as much as he would normally like. 

Still, Geralt looked adorable. Stubble was starting to grow on his cheeks and his hair was a mess, falling in front of his eyes like rays of moonlight. “Hi.”

“I love you,” Jaskier whined as if he hadn’t already told Geralt that a hundred times today already. 

Geralt, the bastard, just laughed at him. “I know, love.”

“I know. I know… but… I love you?”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

Jaskier still hadn’t managed to work out whether Geralt’s eyes were really that colour or whether it was just some trick of the light. In all the photos and video calls they looked golden, but Jaskier had never met anyone with golden eyes before. He hadn’t even realised it was possible. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Then again, he’d seen Eskel and Lambert, Geralt’s brothers, and they also had the same molten gold eyes. 

Between Yennefer and Geralt’s family, Jaskier felt very plain. He was attractive enough but in such a normal way, nothing compared to Geralt’s silvery hair that made him look like he’d been blessed by the spirits of winter, and his swirling amber eyes that blazed like the sun, and then Yennefer with her locks of raven hair and piercing violet eyes. 

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. God, why was he surrounded by such beautiful people. Brown hair, blue eyes and a dead end job. 

“Hey?” Geralt’s gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re important to me.”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t entirely sure what emotions he’d been channeling through their bond but it was obviously enough for Geralt to be concerned. “I love you.”

Geralt tilted his head at the camera and smiled fondly, it was obscured by the darkness and the terrible quality of Geralt’s phone camera but it still managed to melt Jaskier’s heart. Stupid, dumb, soulmate. Why did he have to live in America?

“I have a plan?” Geralt said quietly, looking around his room and not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. 

“A plan?”

“The restaurant I work at has live music nights,” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier frowned. He already knew that. Geralt had mentioned it before. Normally when he was complaining about the quality of the music. Jaskier adored him for that. He loved to judge other people’s music, and he rather smugly loved the way Geralt had only ever said nice things about his own songs. 

“Right?” he asked slowly, not quite understanding where Geralt was going with this.

“I spoke to Dad,” Geralt paused, licking his lips. Jaskier swallowed. It wasn’t fair. How could one man be so unreasonably attractive? He tucked at the sleeves of his jumper whilst he waited for Geralt to finish his thought. The cuffs had holes in and were fraying but it was soft and made the work day more bearable. If he gave a shit about his job he might wear nicer clothes but he’d rather be comfortable. 

“Vesemir?” Jaskier prompted gently. 

“He could help pay for the flights, a loan and we’ll have to pay him back,” Geralt mumbled, still not making any sense. “My apartment isn’t very big but you’re welcome to share until you find your own place? If you want your own place. I’m not making assumptions. I don’t expect you to share just because we’re soulmates but it would be cheaper and the restaurant wouldn’t be able to pay that much at first. You’d be playing music for a living though, and I know that’s what you really want to do,” Geralt cut himself of with a sharp sniff, letting out a low snarl. “Actually forget it, it’s a stupid idea.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s heart was racing. It almost sounded like Geralt was asking him to move to America? More than that, his own family was offering to help pay for the flights that neither of them could afford on their own. 

“I said forget it,” the phone snapped off and the screen went blank but Geralt was his soulmate and it wasn’t quite that easy to runaway. 

‘I don’t want to forget it,’ Jaskier told him, trying to push all the love he had for Geralt through the bond. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you, Geralt?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Geralt,’ he admonished gently. ‘I can’t quit my job on a maybe.’

‘Yes.’

Jaskier grinned. ‘I’ll resign after lunch.’

Jaskier had been tempted to just grab his bag and leave the office for good, but Tissaia had been good to him. She’d put up with his moping for the last three years and even allowed him flexible lunch breaks so he could talk to Geralt when he was awake. Not all bosses would be so forgiving. So he worked his notice. She hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when he announced his plans, if fact she seemed more surprised that it had taken so long to make the plans. He supposed most soulmates did move to be closer at the first available opportunity and he’d been pining over Geralt for six long years. 

Valdo had been his usual grumpy self, sneering that Jaskier hadn’t been able to cope with the job, but there was something in his eyes, a sadness that Jaskier hadn’t expected. They had known each other since university and their rivalry was almost an act these days, but he’d thought that Valdo would be pleased to see the back of him. 

His friends organised a wonderful goodbye party for him. Yennefer pulling out all the stops to make sure he had the best send off. If it weren’t for the pull of Geralt and his soulmate, he’d almost be tempted to stay. England had been his home since he was born and his life was there, his friends were there. 

But Geralt was not. 

And there was the promise of a career in music on the other side of the pond. It was too much to resist. So Jaskier packed up his flat. He pack a rucksack full of his favourite clothes and picked up his guitar. 

Then he drove to the airport, leaving England behind for good. The flight had been almost unbearable. It was long and cramped. He spent most of the time wittering to Geralt, not that his soulmate had responded much. The lucky bugger had been asleep whilst Jaskier tried desperately to block out the noise of screaming children. At one point he started singing a popular Disney tune to try and calm the children but it had only made them more excitable and he’d earned several disapproving glares from their parents. He’d been more than relieved when the plane started its final descent towards the airport.

And then the nerves kicked in. 

Six years of talking through their bond, text or video call… 

What if Geralt realised he didn’t like Jaskier once they met in person? 

Surely some soulmates didn’t get along. Not everyone could be that lucky… could they? 

He was currently waiting for his guitar case to come round the carousel and he was panicking. He should have packed more clothes. He should have brought more belongings. He should have, he should have, he should have. 

‘Jaskier!’ Geralt called and the effect was instantaneous. The tension melted from his shoulders and his fingers relaxed by his side. 

‘Sorry,’ he shot back ‘just nervous.’

He’d feel a lot calmer once he had his guitar strapped to his back and Geralt in his arms. He chewed anxiously as he followed the pieces of the luggage belt with his gaze. He’d always enjoyed watching the way they shifted around as they trailed like a conga line around the airport terminal. His eyes kept flickering to the entrance of the carousel where luggage was pushing through the large rubber drapes. 

“Come on,” he muttered, hopping from one foot to another.

The anxiety began to rise again with each new suitcase that wasn’t his guitar, but he could feel Geralt’s presence warm and constant in the back of his mind. It was stronger now. He’d not expected that. No one had told him that the bond would be stronger with less distance between them. They could already communicate perfectly well from across the world but now he could almost feel Geralt’s heartbeat in harmony with his own, he could feel each breath that Geralt took if he focussed on it. He could even smell the stale scent of coffee from the shop that Geralt was waiting in. 

It was almost too much, overwhelming. 

He could have had six more years of this if he hadn’t been a coward. 

He was so caught up in the new sensations of their soul bond that he almost missed his guitar case travelling along the belt. He squeaked and had to push passed a family that was blocking his way. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, umm, excuse me!”  he yanked the guitar from the belt and ran to the nearest bench. He unzipped the case quickly and inspected his precious instrument. 

There wasn’t even a scratch!

He laughed brightly and hugged the instrument to his chest. One thing down, one to go. Next stop… Geralt! 

He zipped up the case, flinging it onto his back along with his rucksack and then ran as fast as he could through the airport. It gained him a few strange looks but he was done. He’d had enough of waiting. He stumbled a few times as the case fell down his arm but he was persistent. He bustled through the last security check with nothing to declare and then he was free.

“Geralt!!” He yelled, scanning the sea of people for a shock of silver hair. 

He saw himself through Geralt’s eyes and turned on his heels until he spotted his soulmate gazing back at him with open arms. He was here. Geralt was here. He stopped frozen to the spot for a second whilst the world seemed to slow to a halt. 

Geralt.

In the flesh.

And he could hug him. 

“Oh fuck,” tears were already falling down his face, a waterfall of emotions. “Geralt.”

The only word he had left, echoing through the bond, and then he was running again. His bag and guitar case dropping to the floor just in front of Geralt as Jaskier leapt. His arms flung around Geralt’s neck and his legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist. Geralt’s hands supported his weight with ease as Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck, one of Geralt’s hands threading into his hair. God, he even smelled divine. That just wasn’t fair. 

“I love you,” Geralt murmured in his ear. 

The first words he heard his soulmate say in person, and fuck. If he hadn’t already been crying then that would have pushed him over the edge. He was a complete mess but he’d never been happier. He was here, with Geralt. He sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder until his soulmate lowered him gently to the floor. His legs felt weak and Geralt had to keep his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s middle to stop him from falling to the floor. Fingers brushed his cheek, wiping away some of the tears. 

“Hey?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt through a sea of tears. “Hi,” he laughed weakly. “I love you.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s “I love you too, fuck… I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jaskier laughed. “Holy fuck, I’m actually here, and you’re here, and the world hasn’t fallen apart. Oh bloody hell, stop fucking crying, Jask!” he snapped, pulling away from Geralt just enough so he could wipe his face. He smiled sheepishly and gazed at his soulmate through his eyelashes. If it weren’t for the bloody ocean on his face, then he would have tried to be seductive, but that ship had long sailed. “Can… can I kiss you?” 

Geralt’s ridiculously gorgeous and actually golden eyes softened. He nodded, hand still cupping Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier almost fainted on the spot. He hadn’t been expecting Geralt to agree but he was too weak not to ask. He couldn’t even close the gap to finally kiss his soulmate, too stunned that Geralt even wanted it. Luckily Geralt still had his wits about him. A rough calloused finger stroked Jaskier’s cheek and then they were kissing. 

It was magical. He felt everything, and more. Geralt’s lips on his, Geralt’s love in his heart and his own love weaving into the fabric of Geralt’s soul. It felt so strange, after all this time to actually be here. If the emotions weren’t quite so intense then he’d almost think he was dreaming. 

‘I love you’ one of them sighed happily as their lips moved together, breaths mingling, souls completely entangled. 

I love you, I miss you, I want you, I love you…. The thoughts never stopped as they clung to each other in the middle of a shitty airport terminal. 

It was the end of Jaskier’s life as he knew it, and the beginning of a new life with Geralt by his side.

#the witcher #geraskier #soulmates au #soulmates #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing

[underkita-archive]

polyester

kita shinsuke | w.c 2k

a/n: sigh pain,, this is inspired by the song heather by conan gray! i was walking my dog when the song came on and i was like huh, what if i just write a leetle something? which became u know,, 2k words,,,, anyway uh note that this not really an x reader fic,,,

now with the companion piece cotton

set post-timeskip

warnings: just sad, poor use of past tense honestly i struggled so hard, unrequited feelings/love, some tears being shed, feelings of regret

On the second day of your first year of high school you meet Kita Shinsuke. 

Quiet, collected, Kita Shinsuke. 

It had been completely by luck of the draw. You could remember your nerves, still afraid of navigating the ins and outs of high school when there was a gentle tap on your shoulder in the first year hallway. 

“You dropped this.” He’d placed the notebook in your hands before you could stutter out a thank you, left to watch as he approached the Miya twins with a stern look.

To call it love at first sight may have been an exaggeration, but at the time you couldn’t help but color it as such.

His cool demeanor and dedication to a sport that hardly rewarded him was far more admirable than you would’ve liked to admit. So you had found yourself at few more volleyball matches than someone who never cared for the sport.

And when Miya Atsumu came careening into the classroom one frigid morning spouting nonsense and demanding one of the girls in your class volunteer to be the volleyball club’s team manager you couldn’t have stopped yourself from raising your hand if you tried. 

He wasn’t even captain yet, but the two of you worked closely. Staying behind to clean up after the raucous first years, careless second years and overworked third years.

The only ones dedicated enough.

Somewhere in between those late nights cleaning and those early mornings prepping, between the quiet whispers and watching him become more and more dependable.

You had fallen in love.

It hadn’t surprised you, you knew you were doomed from the start. Since that one lucky day in the first year hallway, you knew it had been a matter of when not if.

There had been more than enough opportunities to confess your feelings, to free yourself of the endless nights of pining, of being tormented by all the what ifs and almosts.

Yet you watched in perfect silence as your first year melted away. Watched as Kita earned the right to being called captain, and let yourself be consumed by the role of the doting team manager. 

Once again you had found yourself letting the months roll by, allowing your feelings to rot away at your insides, suffering in the way he seemed to form a kind smile solely for you, living for the quiet praise and approving nods he’d occasionally offer.

“Why don’t you just confess?” Your friend had said, tired of the sad way you would carry yourself after a particularly taxing day of spending too much time in Kita’s proximity. 

“Nationals, I’ll tell him when we win nationals.” You promised, trying to convince yourself that it would be the right time, a poor attempt at trying to conjure up a speck of bravery. 

By the time Nationals had arrived you had prepared your heart to the best of your ability, ready to see your team take their rightful spot as the champions.

And when they didn’t, whatever courage you had cobbled together shattered. So you sulked. Standing on the balcony of the hotel, staring up at the light polluted Tokyo sky, shaking from the biting cold.

“You’ll get sick like that.” You hadn’t thought your blood could run any colder until his voice interrupted whatever pitiful thoughts had been running through your mind.

“I-It’s...fine.” You hoped he chalked down the stammer in your words from the weather over nerves.

“Mmm. Don’t stay out here too long.” You nodded your head, keeping your eyes focused on a flickering star struggling to make its presence known when there was a weight on your shoulders. You couldn’t help but snap your eyes down, the familiar shade of maroon now hanging over your body. 

And what should’ve finally been said that night was left in the air, left struggling like that little star in the sky. 

With a heavy heart you watched him graduate, watched as time kept moving without bothering to let you catch up.

◇ ◆ ◇

Years later you can say with confidence that your school girl crush has aptly faded, telling yourself that there was never a need to confess.

Until your phone beeps late one Thursday night.

Engagement dinner. 

Your eyes scan over the text, once, twice, again and again until you lose count, until your chest feels tight and your face burns and what were once feelings you thought had faded start rearing their ugly head.

You won’t allow whatever leftover hormonal thoughts poke and prod at what you’ve built up. You’re older, wiser and most importantly you’ve moved on. 

So you clean up nicely, put on something nice but not too nice, just a touch of perfume and only check twice in the mirror before you walk out the door to call a Lyft. 

The restaurant is unfamiliar, nestled in a cute little neighborhood. It’s fitting for Kita, it’s homey and cozy but nice enough for the occasion. 

You try not to choke as he approaches you, a grin too large splaying across his usually serious face, oddly enough it fits, furthermore it hurts.

It takes you a second too long to notice the woman beside him, the sight of his arm tucked behind her back as she curls into his side, she offers you a shy yet refined smile. You barely catch her name, the overwhelming sensation of the past creeping up on you, tearing down whatever walls you had carefully built over the years.

They show you to the table, Aran, Akagi and Gin already there with their charming and familiar smiles, yet the lovely reunion is unable to distract you from the way he pulls out her chair, making sure she’s properly settled before he takes his place beside her once more.

You think of the maroon jacket that had weighed so comfortably on your shoulders that freezing Tokyo night, you think of the words that laid on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far as Kita patted your head and returned back inside.

The lost opportunity.

Only to have the once sweet memory dashed away at the lightness of your left ring finger, as you’re forced to witness the woman beside Kita rest a perfectly manicured hand atop his, the ruby gemstone set on a golden band gleaming so beautifully in the low restaurant lighting.

“Captain! Sorry we’re late! Congratulations.” Miya Atsumu with his usual loudmouth tears through your concealed pity party, a small smile finding its way to your lips at the way Osamu trudges behind him with that special irritated look reserved solely for his brother.

“It’s just Kita, I haven’t been your captain in years.” He rises from his seat, taking his bride-to-be’s hand and introducing her to the ever famous Miya twins. 

“Sure sure, manager-chan! Looking good!” He’s by your side in seconds, thick arms already pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“You’re gonna break her ‘Tsumu.” 

“Shut it ‘Samu, I would never.” His hold only tightens at the statement, the rippling of his muscles against your body causing an undeniable rush of heat to bloom across your body. 

“Enough of that.” You laugh, wiggling out of his grip with an exasperated laugh.

A few more former players of Inarizaki pour into the restaurant, old memories tossed around with endearing fondness and one too many congratulatory toasts leaves your heart aching worse than before, regret eating away at you, the inevitable question of what if cycling though your thoughts. 

“Doing okay?” Atsumu’s closeness is nothing new, somewhere over the years your boundaries had skewed, his face being a little too close was to be expected at this point.

“Sure.” It’s a noncommittal reply that Atsumu would normally call you out on, but he accepts it only after letting his gaze linger on you for a moment.

The minutes tick by as Kita retells the picturesque proposal he had carefully planned, unfiltered adoration and fondness adorning his eyes.

Lovestruck. 

An expression you had wished this man to have focused on you just a few years ago. 

What if?

The question taunts you, what if you hadn’t been a coward? What if you had said it that night? Or any other moment spent by his side? Would it be you? 

Another sip of the bitter wine offers no reprieve from the taunting thoughts, whatever mask you had been donning the entirety of the night starts to wear down, you can feel it slipping out of place. 

“Boy am I sweatin’!” Atsumu barks out, knocking his shoulder against yours, true enough his cheeks are tinted a soft blush, eyes glossy from one too many beers.

The exclamation causes a few snorts and chuckles around the table, a scathing comment from Osamu and a faux jeer from Suna.

“Maybe you need a walk.” You mumble, picking at the food you had long abandoned earlier in the meal. 

“Ya know what? You might be onto somethin’, let’s go.” His fingers are around your wrist before you can register what he’s saying.

“Atsumu what?”

“C’mon, say bye!” 

“Atsumu!”

“You be safe, thank you for coming.” Your head spins as Kita offers that same smile, still a little too wide as he offers a nod and turns back to his fiancee. Atsumu tugs at you again, only for you to shake him off, turning properly to the happy couple. 

“Congratulations Kita-san. I wish you both,” You swallow the bitter lump in your throat, “I wish you both unending happiness.”

You’re turning on your heel before you can receive a reply, biting back whatever pent up emotions threaten to spill over as you rush out of the restaurant, practically running down the sidewalk fueled by the desperate need to get as far as you possibly can. 

“Hey hey slow down!” You don’t bother slowing, let alone stopping, knowing fully well the professional athlete chasing after you will catch up in a matter of seconds. “I said slow down.”

The second his hand touches your shoulder whatever walls left standing come crumbling down.

“It hurts.” It’s nothing more than a whisper before he’s turning you around to face him, a hand still planted on your shoulder as the tears that have been welled up for nearly five years begin to fall. The tears you hadn’t allowed yourself to shed.

“I know.” His voice is pained as he draws you closer, letting you close the distance as you lean against him. The trail of tears burns against your cheeks, they’re filled with shame, with unspoken words, with unrequited love. 

It’s almost poetic, the way you two stand there in a broken silence under the flickering light of one of the odd stores dotting the street. It feels like hours pass by, the initial ache in your chest starting to lessen as you meet his gaze.

“Could you... consider me?” There’s something profoundly sad in his eyes, an exhaustion from years spent quietly resigned from confessing a truth that you were all too familiar with dotting his expression. 

“I,” can’t, “don’t know.” 

“I know that I’m not him, I don’t think I can be anything close, but just, do you think you could?” There isn’t the slightest trace of his boyish charm nor the cool demeanor he normally holds in serious situations. He feels smaller, more exposed and for the first time in all your years of knowing him.

You can see weakness.

“I can’t make any promises.” It feels almost too soon, a little rushed for you to be able to make sense of anything that’s transpired, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to lead him on. 

“I can wait,” a wistful quirk of his lips rekindles the ache from before as an expression you’ve surely worn in the past washes over his face, “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

And in a matter of two, maybe three seconds, the world seems to tilt, just a few degrees, just enough for the angle to change, for that memory of the muddled Tokyo sky to shift a few inches to the right from the struggling star to the one shining in softly in the distance.

Your hand moves before you can even think, fingers curling around Atsumu’s chilled ones, intertwining them carefully as you offer him something akin to understanding, something a little deeper, not quite sure what you’re truly conveying.

“Just for a little bit longer.”

#miki writes #sad miki #angst #under.kita #inarizaki #i honestly hurt my own damn self w this #honestly maybe it's not that bad and i'm just sensitive? #idk i just #this was v therapeutic to write #i've been hating writing as of late and this just #idk it made me write #and i liked that? #there's going to be a companion piece to this at some point #idk when #but yeah phew #sorry for my sins

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

//

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

~

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

~

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

//

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

//

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

//

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

[ohheyitsokay]

echolo-kissing

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie/Catfish) x reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: none, shared sleeping space, cuddles, kisses, fluff

Summary: a few adventures of camping with Frankie

Notes: this was (apparently?) Heavily inspired by @scribbledghost I’m begging you, please go check out her fic “Winderness” with Catfish (I swear I didn’t mean to make this in such a similar vein but apparently that fic lives in my subconscious rent free?)

>>

“Baby, what if we just lived in the woods forever?” Frankie was more than half serious.

The two of you were laying in a small tent, cover off so the sun was poking through the holes in the mosquito net. Nearby, a brook was babbling and a breeze floated through the greenery. There was one large sleeping bag and a blanket which cushioned your backs against the hard ground of the campsite Frankie had chosen. You only had a few hours before you’d have to get your fire started, but after the day of backpacking and setting up camp you both were happy to rest for a few moments.

You looked over at him, adoringly, having had versions of this conversation most of your relationship.

“Counter offer,” you said, as joking as he was not. “We have a normal home, with a very large yard.”

He looked so sad you almost wondered if he was exaggerating his pain to make you bend.

“Okay, what about … a camper, long term?” he said, his tone confirming your theory. “I can roll around in the dirt, and then you can still make me take a shower!” he grinned winningly, as though this was a very generous proposal.

You laughed. Frankie was like the sun, bathing you in warmth.

“Maybe a country home, with a promise that do this often?”

He rolled, pulling himself so he was more or less on top of you. His hat bumped your forehead, and he removed it so he could lean in close and kiss you properly.

“A cabin in the woods,” he said, his face still close to yours, his eyes absolutely filled with joy. “Final offer.”

“Deal,” you said, and you knew he was as perfectly happy as you were.

The two of you kissed twice more before he sighed, pulling himself to a kneeling position. His hand fit into yours before he stood, pulling you to your feet in front of him. Frankie’s head was smashed against the top of the tent, making it bump out. The curls on his head, already unruly, were quickly becoming frizzy from the material, and it made your heart feel full.

He grabbed his hat again, and tugged you out of the tent, zipping it up behind you.

There was a rhythm to your actions, both of you knew what to do. This was only your third camping trip this summer, and you’d been together a couple more months than that, but you were already familiar with each other’s minds. There were unspoken words to this, the same ones that found their home under your conversation about future homes. You were it, for each other.

You organized and sorted his supplies and fishing gear, making sure he’d know where to find it in the cold, early hours of the morning. You tucked one of his favorite jackets nearby, too. He made sure to pack your favorite snacks and put them in the tree bags so the bears would leave them alone. As he made his was back, you were beginning to clear a space for your fire, and you remembered something.

“Frankie, did you set aside the bag I made for dinner tonight or is it up in the tree already?” You didn’t look up; you knew his footsteps.

“I have it right here,” he said, settling next to you and contributing a pile of dry branches from his free arm. The other set the correctly labeled sack next to you, and you gave your thanks.

“What’s in there, anyway, junebug? It was heavier than you normally pack,” his brown eyes were curious, but he didn’t investigate on his own, much to your relief.

“Just normal dinner stuff,” you said, kissing his cheek as you reached behind him to get the pan you’d brought. “And I have a surprise for after.”

In that moment you could’ve sworn Frankie’s eyes were filled with stars.

“S'mores?” he said, equally hopeful and reverent. You just smiled at him and went back to your task.

You loved these trips. When Francisco Morales was able to escape into the woods and he was at peace, able to be more himself than in the rest of the world, unless he was flying.

He talked happily, telling you stories, and sharing rare glances into his past. You began to cook for the both of you, content to listen and let him do other, more tedious tasks.

After mixing various things and waiting awhile, you refilled one of the jars you’d emptied with stew, and he took it with a thanks, fishing out your little sets of utensils. Before he was halfway done with his portion, you noticed him pause, looking at his makeshift bowl and then towards the bag by your side.

“You want to know how much room you should save,” you said, not really asking. He looked a little bit guilty, and you took pity on him. The sweet pilot would never pressure you, but he always did hate secrets.

You poured out the remaining contents of the dinner bag on the ground where he could see.

“Ta-da!” It was a can of apple pie filling, a tiny Tupperware of butter, and some slices of bread.

Looking up at your love, proud of your surprise, you found him in a state of bewilderment and mild betrayal. You laughed, fumbling around in your backpack until you pulled out what looked like a large, strange pair of tongs. Instead if grabbers on the end, there was a shallow bowl on each side, aligned so they would make a pocket when closed.

“Does this help?” you asked, handing it to him to examine.

In all your years of friendship and months of dating, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen Frankie look so confused.

“It’s for making campfire pies,” you said, taking the device back from him. “See? I’ll butter both of the insides of the bowls, put one piece of bread in each, and then fill it!” you demonstrated, and then closed it, the two halves pressing together. The corners fell off and the edges sealed together, and you handing him the whole thing to toast over the fire. “Just rotate it for a few minutes and I promise it will be magical.” He did as you bid, the excitement overriding his initial shock.

As you promised, the pocket pie was wonderful, crunchy and buttery on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. Frankie forgave you for the lack of s'mores after his first bite.

The evening wore on, and the of you were fools in love. You talked and laughed and for the first time in awhile, the rest of the world spun on without you. He pulled you close to his side, talking into your hair, and you cuddled into his chest.

When you began to yawn, you split up to clean, and get ready to head to bed. Maybe soon you’d stay out later under the stars but neither of you were in a hurry. The few days you had felt heavy with potential, like you could stretch them into eternity.

Frankie came into the tent after you, patting around in the darkness so he didn’t smush you.

“Junebug?” his voice was quiet, but filled with love.

“Here,” you responded, tone matching his. You felt him move closer before a kiss planted itself on the outside corner of you eye. You laughed, the sound making the tiny tent feel like a home.

“I missed, didn’t I?” Frankie’s voice was bashful this time.

“Yeah,” you said, before you felt another kiss on your nostril. You squeaked.

“Here, let me,” you said, hand finding his chest, floating in the darkness above you. You leaned up, only for your forehead to hit something hard.

You both made pained noises and pulled back.

“Okay wait,” you said and he stilled. You made little kissing noises with your mouth, puckering your lips. His laughter filled the moment as much as yours had before, but it didn’t take long before his mouth found yours. Finally, you were back in sync with each other. You sighed, and he deepened the kiss, lowering himself into the blankets.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you repeated it back to him, meaning every word. He kissed you one last time before he settled fully, pulling your body into his as much as he could. Your head found its place over his heart and you tossed one of your legs over his. His arms were wrapped around you, hands rubbing gently as the two of you listened to the sounds of wild life.

There was an owl nearby, and you were thankful it was something you could identify. You listened to its calls before you heart some thing else above you.

Frankie was making tiny kissing noises.

You knew he could feel your laughter more than hear it, but you leaned up anyway. Your lips met his, first try.

Taglist (??):

@fangirl-316

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #triple frontier #lowkey based on a true story #maybe i don't know people

[kisskeiji]

5. Lifeboats.

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: language, alcohol consumption,suggestive (but not really)

“So you’re telling me that you are going to Miya’s high school reunion because he wanted you to meet his friends?” Oikawa took a sip from his mug after asking with an inquiring tone. You were getting ready for Atsumu and Osamu to pick you up, fighting the urge to cancel on them but it was out of the question, they were supposed to be at your door in less than twenty minutes. 

“Yes, and I’m close to rip my hair off.” You ran your fingers through your hair and huffed.

“You look pretty with your hair down Y/N!” Bokuto assured you. “Right, love?” He asked Akaashi who turned back and nodded in agreement. Oikawa thought it was a good idea to invite them to the call for “emotional support” but in reality they were just making fun of you and your current crisis, Akaashi and Oikawa were a dangerous combo. You brushed your hair down and stared at yourself in the mirror. ‘What am I even doing?’ You couldn’t think of anything except how awkward things could get and many different ways you could mess up at dinner. 

“You look constipated, Y/N-chan.” Oikawa mocked. He was lucky he was on the other side of the world. “I know what you are thinking and turning that invitation down is not an option.”  You hated how easy he could read you, but considering your current state and how heavy you were breathing trying to calm yourself it wasn’t hard to know how anxious you were. You thought it was ridiculous, Atsumu was being a good friend, you weren’t going out alone and it was just dinner with his friends. Why were you so uneasy? 

“I never thought Miya would like Y/N.” Akaashi teased. 

“He doesn’t like me, he is trying to be nice, and what does that even mean? You are not helping, Keiji.” You retorted and the three men laughed at you. “It’s going to be awkward, why would he invite me to a high school reunion?” 

“Didn’t he say something about Ojiro's girlfriend? She is really funny! And Ojiro is a nice guy, I promise you there’s never an awkward moment with them.” Bokuto encouraged you and you smiled, but the list of things that could go wrong was still present on your mind. You talked for a few more minutes while you added the final touches to your make up and sprayed perfume on your wrists and the back of your ears. Your phone screen lit up showing a message from Atsumu saying they were outside. 

“They are here.” You announced and looked at your laptop.

“Go have fun, Y/N, you can drink wine with someone other than me.” Akaashi held his glass up for you to see. “I already started.” 

“Don’t drink too much.” You warned. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” They wished you luck and ended the call.You roamed through your apartment looking for your purse and keys. You locked the door and walked down the hallway to the elevator, your hands were sweating a little and you swore your eye just twitched. You always struggled with meeting new people and the circumstances of this meeting did everything ten times more awkward. Again, what were you thinking when you agreed? Nothing, exactly, just the look on Atsumu’s eyes and how even in the dark they shined with expectation. You couldn’t turn him down. 

You spotted Atsumu waiting for you resting his weight on his car, arms crossed and hair carefully styled. Your mouth almost dropped at the sight, you always see him in gym clothes or the team uniform, trying to keep your walk steady, you focused your attention and how uncomfortable your shoes were — It was an impulse buy, but they were so cute you told yourself you could endure the pain. Atsumu waved at you and opened the door right before you reached his car. “Hey.” He said almost sighing. He was just as stunned as you but wasn’t really trying to hide it. You noticed how he checked you out at first glance but stopped himself halfway trying to keep his cool. 

“Hi.” You greeted nervously and looked away, noticing Osamu on the backseat. “Hi, Osamu.” He had a lazy grin on his face and his hands rested on his knees before he waved at you. “You can take the front seat if you want to.” You offered. 

“No!” Atsumu was quick to respond for his brother, earning a curious look from you. “I mean, he already offered to take the backseat for you! Right, ‘Samu?” He looked at his twin hoping for him to play along. It was not like Atsumu forced him to sit on the back right before you walked out of your building. 

“ ‘Tsumu is right. It would have been impolite from us to have you sit on the back.” Once again,  Osamu saved his brother’s ass from an awkward situation. If only you knew that Atsumu was just as nervous as you and Osamu teasing him nonstop was not helping his case. He went from excited to a pit of nerves in less than twenty minutes. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to have you meet his friends on your first date, especially when Osamu and Suna were going to be there. Did he just say date?  It was definitely not a date, but it felt like so. Everyone would think you two were dating when you just met a little bit over a month ago. He didn’t think this through, but it was too late, you were already in his car sitting right beside him on your way to Aran’s house having a small talk with his brother about his week in the restaurant. 

“You are going to get along well with Hana-san, you have the same dry sense of humor as her.” Osamu said, running his hand through his hair. 

“What do you mean? My sense of humor is not dry at all.” You looked back, clearly offended. “Atsumu, is my sense of humor dry?” You asked now looking at him. He smiled and tried to avoid the question. 

“I’m driving, I can’t answer.”

“You drive with your mouth?” You deadpanned and both men laughed. 

“See?” Osamu said as if he was proving a point.

“See what? You clearly can’t differentiate sarcasm from dry humor.” You crossed your arms and huffed. 

“If it makes you feel better I think you are funny.” Atsumu nudged your arm once he reached the stop sign and you almost gave in and smiled. 

“I don’t need your pity, Miya.” You looked through your window, trying to ignore his playful gaze and the grin plastered on Atsumu’s face. He knew what you were doing so he poked your side making you jolt on your seat. You were ready to poke him back when the red light turned green. 

“I’ll get my revenge later.” You announced making him laugh. Osamu watched the whole thing from his seat. ‘I feel like I am interrupting something.’ He thought and smiled to himself, the unfamiliar feeling of third wheeling taking over at the sight of his brother having fun with you. Once again, it felt like you met years ago, maybe because Atsumu would never shut up about you or how bright he smiled at you, it was just right. Like Bokuto, Osamu started thinking that his brother and you would look good together. The fun was cut short when Atsumu pulled over in front of Aran's house, he asked you to wait for him to open the door for you. 

“Chivalry is not dead.” Osamu whispered to his brother who just elbowed him to shut him up. You three walked to the door and Atsumu rang the bell. “You look like you want to throw up.” The gray haired twin said and you let out all the air you were holding in. 

“You have such a way with words.” You leaned on your right side and remembered Bokuto’s words, they were nice people, you shouldn’t stress too much. After a few seconds a man with gray hair and dark tips opened the door. 

“Kita-san!” Atsumu cheered. Kita greeted them both and exchanged a few words, you fading in the back without really listening to their conversation and waiting awkwardly when you heard Atsumu say: “This is my friend Y/N.”  You adjusted your purse under your arm and bowed with your head, Kita returned the gesture and reached to shake your hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Blood rushed to your ears under his intense gaze, he looked so calm and put together, but his brown eyes were definitely intimidating. “Come on in, Aran and Hana are busy in the kitchen.” You walked in first and took your shoes off and looked around spotting two men sitting on the couch having a small talk. “The twins are here.” Kita announced and both of them turned their attention to the ex-volleyball captain. 

“Late as always.” The one with silver hair joked, Atsumu and Osamu  walked past you to greet their old teammates with a hug. 

“We are not late, you came here too early.” Atsumu retorted. “Y/N this is Ginjima and the one about to stick his tongue down to my brother’s throat is Suna.” Before you could introduce yourself Suna smacked the back of Atsumu’s head. 

“You are so vulgar.” Atsumu rubbed the spot where Suna had hit him trying to sooth the pain. Suna looked familiar for some reason. Narrow eyes and tall figure, you must have seen him somewhere. You didn’t failed to notice Osamu’s arm sneaking around Suna’s waist, that’s when you realized you sure looked dumb standing there staring at the five men in front of you, but could they blame you? They were towering over you. The scene was terrifying from an outside view, lucky for you the house owners walked out the kitchen to welcome you. 

“What are you guys doing to this poor girl?” A tall woman asked standing right beside you. “You must be Y/N! I’m Hana, I am so excited to finally meet you after the twins came in talking nonstop about you.” She extended her hand for you to shake. 

“They did?” You smiled and felt a reassuring squeeze on your hand, an unspoken ‘I am here.’ Her presence was warm just like her smile. “Y/N L/N, they also told me a lot about you, it is a pleasure to meet you.”  

“I know the twins are already a handful, but when they are all together is a disaster, you can have all the wine you need.” She whispered in your ear and you two shared a laugh.

 “See, Aran-kun? I told you they were going to get along well.” Atsumu sat on the couch and crossed his legs. Right, you still haven’t greeted him, you looked around and found him standing behind Hana. ‘Way to go.’  

“I am so sorry.” You bowed. “ Thank you so much for having me tonight.”  

“Thank you for coming. Please make yourself at home.” He bowed back before Ginjima and Atsumu jumped on him to give him a hug. “Come on, we saw each other last week.” He said, taking a step back to support the weight of the two men. 

“The twins mentioned that you were a bartender back then! We just finished our new bar, wanna see?” Hana asked. You nodded and spared a glance to the rest of the boys in the room and excused yourself to follow Hana. She guided you to the kitchen and you noticed the racks hanging beside the lightbox displaying the wine glasses, the warm lighting made the wide place feel more cozy despite the minimalist decorations. “Here it is, Aran knows nothing about wine or liquor but one of his teammates has a bar, so he decided we needed one.” She opened a cabinet revealing a collection of bottles and a wine cooler. 

“Really? But you have such a nice selection here.” You peaked through the fridge glass to see the bottles tempering. “It was a good decision then, it is so pretty.” When you looked at Hana she had her arms crossed and a faint smile on her face. 

“Don’t let him hear you, it will get to his head.” 

“I heard that!” Aran entered the kitchen. “So, what do you think about my baby?” He walked closer to where you were standing, looking at his collection proudly, Hana rolled her eyes and elbowed him. 

“I was just telling Hana-san that your collection was really nice, you have good taste.” His smile grew wider and he thanked you. 

“Too much for someone who can’t drink ten out of twelve months a year.” Hana added and Aran side hugged her and kissed her temple. You smiled at the sight but something made you avert your gaze back to the cabinet, this time focusing on the gold utensils nicely displayed at the bottom. “You can touch, it won’t bite.” Hana said. “And I won’t complain if you make some cocktails.” She inched closer to you and nudged your shoulder making you laugh. 

“We’ll see.” You helped Hana to set the charcuterie boards on the kitchen island, and Aran insisted on you choosing the wine since most of them couldn’t drink, having a small chat with both of them and getting to know each other you learned that they were together since high school and were actually engaged but no plans were made yet since Aran’s career was still starting and they wanted to wait a little more. They worked together so well, not only with each other but their space, the house matched their energy perfectly, they gave you the familiarity you craved ever since you moved. For the first time in a month you were not alone on a friday night downing whatever alcohol you had in hand, and you were thankful for their company, in the end — like always— Bokuto was right, they were nice people.

“We are starving over here!” Osamu yelled. 

“That sounds like a personal problem!” Hana yelled back without looking away from the cutting board. The other five men joined shortly after and took their seats on the stools. You were facing away from them, pouring a mix of alcohol and lime juice in two glass cups you previously filled with ice and sharing a laugh with Hana before she asked you to sit down, you didn’t notice Atsumu’s eyes lingering on you as you sat down on the stool beside him. The others were already eating from the boards and talking about their days, you listened attentively and nodded from time to time, you liked listening to people without necessarily sharing your thoughts, it was easier to avoid talking about your past. It was your turn to look at Atsumu while he excitedly talked about whatever he did at practice with Bokuto and Sakusa; but this time he felt your eyes on him. Doing a double take, the moment his eyes met yours he tripped on his words but recovered quickly.  

After twenty minutes or so, you noticed how Atsumu was only eating the cheese cubes from the boards and you laughed. “You are supposed to mix the flavours, not eating all the cheese.” He looked at you confused. 

“But I don’t know what to do with all of these, why would you mix jam with cream cheese? And what the fuck is this?” He asked, pointing at the honeycomb.

“I’m gonna start believing you have the taste buds of a five year old.”  You took the butter knife and a slice of bread from the board to carefully cut a piece of cheese and spread it on top of the bread.

“That’s not true. What are you doing?” You didn’t answer, too busy trying to cut into the honeycomb with a spoon and finally placing it on the bread along with a slice of strawberry on top of it. You brought the slice of bread near his mouth and he looked at you, then the food in front of him and then back at you not knowing what to do.

“Hurry up, the honey is dripping on my fingers.” He opened his mouth and took a bite, reaching for the uneaten piece to hold it so you could wipe the honey off your fingers, his flustered state was quickly replaced by the flavors melting on his mouth. His eyes widened as he looked at you. 

“Wait, that was actually really good.” He hummed and ate the other piece as you smiled softly. “Can you make another one? For me.” His eyes shining still delighted with the flavors lingering on his mouth. You kept handing him different mixes of textures and flavors, all of this under Hana and Aran’s gaze, mesmerized by your chemistry. “Okay that one I didn’t like.” Atsumu wiped his mouth. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t really looking.” You said having a bite for yourself. 

“My turn.” He said with the butter knife in one hand. You were nervous, his choices were a bit odd and you didn’t wanted to spit it out as soon as you bite into it. “Say ah.” He held his creation and you hesitated to get closer. “Hurry up, the honey is dripping on my fingers.” He mocked your previous words using them against you. 

“Very funny.” You narrowed your eyes finally opening your mouth and biting into it, it wasn’t until you started to chew that you could assimilate the flavors on your mouth, you couldn’t quite place them but it tasted good, looking back to Atsumu’s hand analyzing whatever he put on top of the bread slice. “It 's good.” 

“Just good?” You took the other part from his hand and he pushed himself back to stretch a little bit. 

“I mean, for a roasted tomato, peach jam and aged cheese; it’s great.” You cleaned your fingers once again and he just mumbled something about you being the one with childish taste buds. Everyone was aware of what was going on between you two but decided to keep the conversation going while you and Atsumu had your charcuterie expert moment. Osamu looked at his brother having a good time without necessarily causing ruckus or being loud, just genuinely enjoying himself. 

“Is there something going on between those two?” Suna whispered to him. 

“I have no idea.” He took a good sip of his wine and smiled at his boyfriend. “But Atsumu acts different when they are together.”

“Well, duh, look at him! He looks like a highschooler in love.” Ginjima intervened and the three of them laughed looking at Atsumu. You noticed the three pairs of eyes on you and pointed at them for Atsumu to pay attention to his friends. 

“What?” He asked and none of them said a thing. 

“Dinner is ready!” Aran announced and Hana called for you, asking if you were up to another round of margaritas. You agreed, trying to get away from the curious stares from Atsumu’s friends and brother; you walked straight to the bar to take the bottles of triple sec and tequila from the shelfs, she handed you the cups you were using already filled with ice. Atsumu was completely focused on your swift moves and the way you carefully poured the transparent liquor on the measuring cup and then the shaker. When you finished straining the drink on the two cups, Suna and Kita started asking you questions about your previous job and how it was working at a bar while Aran and Osamu served and garnished the plates. 

The rest of the night went well, way better than you thought. You exchanged numbers with Hana and made plans to go out for lunch the following week, you got along really well from the beginning and she said you were really fun to be around and complimented your mixology skills by saying you did the best margaritas she ever had. After saying goodbye to everyone and thanking the couple for the good time you and Atsumu left without Osamu since he went back home with Suna to spend the weekend together  before he had to come back to Osaka on Monday. You were now at your door with Atsumu, he claimed that he wanted to make sure you made it home safe but he just wanted to use the restroom. You let him in and told him where the guest bathroom was before taking your shoes off and walking to your bedroom looking for a hair tie. 

When he came back from the restroom your phone started to ring. “Someone’s calling you.” He said. 

“Can you see who it is? It’s probably my friend Oikawa.I’ll be out in a second” You yelled from your room. It was an unknown number but he still picked up. 

“Y/N?” The person on the other side of the line asked as soon as he pressed the phone on his right ear. 

“Uh, no, she is in her room right now but can I help you with something?”  The call was cut short. ‘Weird.’ Atsumu thought, he placed your phone back on the counter when you joined him again, this time with your hair tied in a messy ponytail with a few strands of hair framing your face. You looked beautiful.

“So, was it Oikawa?” 

“Well, I don’t know, it was an unknown number and they hung up as soon as they heard my voice. Probably a prank call.” He said making his way to the door with you trailing behind. 

“That’s weird.” You said before opening the door. “I had a lot of fun tonight, Atsumu, thank you.” You leaned on the door frame. 

“Would you like to do it again sometime? I mean, hanging out, I had fun too.” You were startled at his question. “As friends, of course.” He was quick to add and something inside you twisted in disappointment. You looked at him, towering over you with his overwhelming height and broad shoulders, he sure looked good.

“Sure, why not.” That came out more bitter than you expected. “Good night, Atsumu.”

‘Fuck it.’ Atsumu thought before taking a step closer to you and placing his left hand on your lower back, you didn’t dare to move waiting for his next move, in a matter of seconds his lips were on yours and your hands on his biceps trying to support yourself on him while he busied himself setting the pace of the kiss; slow and steady, making sure you knew that he fucked up the last part. “Do friends kiss each other like that, Miya?” You asked playfully when he parted away from your lips. 

“We can be really close friends.” He kissed you again, this time it was shorter but he still managed to take your breath away. “I have to go now.” He said after one too many kisses at your door, lips slightly swollen and eyes shimmering. 

“Text me when you get home.” You fixed his hair and gave him one last kiss on his cheek before he left. You checked the number that called before, not recognizing it at first glance you locked your phone, maybe Atsumu was right and someone was just trying to prank call you. Once you were in bed ready to sleep, a text from Oikawa lit up your phone screen asking for details, you sighed and turned it off. You tried to avoid your friends' questions all weekend, giving vague details and not mentioning that you made out with Atsumu for almost twenty minutes at the end of the night, you were not ready for them to tease you nonstop. 

-

“Y/N?” Iwaizumi asked, waiting to hear your voice from the other side of the line.

“Uh, no, she is in her room right now but can I help you with something?” A male voice answered. His insides twisted as panic took over his senses and immediately hung up. You were with someone else.

“What happened?” Hanamaki entered the kitchen, he saw Iwaizumi holding his phone in one hand and the landline on the other. “What are you doing with my phone?” It took him a few seconds before realizing. He grabbed his phone from Iwaizumi’s hand and saw your number displayed on the screen. “You called her?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me she was back.” Iwaizumi was angry, but so was Hanamaki. Did he really just ask that? 

“Because she asked us not to tell you, and we are trying to get our friend back, or do I need to remind you that she stopped talking to us because of you.” He stared at Iwaizumi coldly. 

“Shut up, that’s not fair.” 

“Not fair for who? For you? Get fucked Hajime, you act as if you were the victim in this situation. Maybe learn to respect other people’s privacy and stop trying to call her, she is over you.” With that Takahiro walked past him and made his way to his room. Tears threatening to spill from Iwaizumi’s eyes, a frustrated sigh left his lips as he ran his hands through his hair. 

You were over him. Just the thought of you forgetting about him made his chest hurt, still heavy with guilt. You were over him, and even worse, you were already with someone else.

-

The next few weeks were hectic, the season started and the team had a winning streak, the schedules were full and you received endless calls from magazines and sport channels. You were exhausted but happy to be occupied and your team made your work much easier. For the first time that week everyone was able to take it slower; the medical team went home earlier and the players were practicing by themselves while you and one of your assistants patiently waited for an email from the volleyball association. “So I heard you and Miya-senshu are really close lately.” You looked up from your phone and smiled. 

“Yeah, we are good friends.” You giggled. 

“I don’t understand how you get along so well with him, every time I work with him he acts like a diva.” She said adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, you scrunched your nose in confusion; Atsumu was a genuinely nice guy, but it was true that he wasn’t easy to approach.

“Well, the spotlight was meant for him, he has a magnetic personality that makes everyone around him take an interest on him, but he is not the best at managing all of the attention. He is human too, you know? He knows what everyone thinks of him, so he reciprocates that perception without being aware of it. Maybe if you treated him like a normal person he would show a nicer side of him because he won’t feel like you are expecting him to be a complete asshole.” You explained as simple as  you could, she looked at you as if you had a third eye. It made sense, but before she could thank you for the advice your monitor screen refreshed, showing the email you were waiting for; the nominees for the Volleyball Association Awards. Reading carefully the names and the date of the ceremony you headed to the gym to break the news to the players along with your assistant. 

“I have good news!” You said as soon as you opened the gym doors. 

“Y/N!” Bokuto ran to you. “What is going on?” He asked, trying to peek on your clipboard. 

“The volleyball association sent the names of the nominees for this year’s awards.” You announced and waited for everyone to gather around you. “The team is nominated for best division one line up.” Everyone cheered in excitement. “Bokuto and Sakusa for best newcomers, Meian-senshu for best middle blocker and finally, Atsumu and Inunaki-senshu are nominated for setter and libero of the year.” They congratulated each other with side hugs and high-fives. “Also, Thomas-senshu was requested to be one of the hosts for the  ceremony.” 

“For real?” His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Yes, they loved your appearances on the sports channel, they are going to send Hideko the details later so make sure to check them with her later.” He nodded and Meian patted his back a little bit too hard. “Congratulations to all of you, once the nominations are available to the public we are expecting a few interviews but we are going to try to keep them short until the end of the season in november, please be mindful of your interactions with the press, one mistake can cost you the award.” After another round of cheering you and your assistant took your leave. 

“We can go celebrate later.” Atsumu held your wrist before you exited the gym, he raised his brows trying to convince you. 

“I would love to, but I have plans with Hana-san.” He pouted. “Maybe tomorrow if you are not planning to practice all day like always.” 

“Hana is always stealing you away from me.” He complained playing with your fingers. “You are always hanging out with her” 

“Weren’t you the one who wanted me to be friends with her?” 

“Yes! But now is different.” He whined. 

“What changed?” You asked, knowing the answer very well. The expression on his face begged you to not make him say it as he loosened his grip on your hand. “We’ll talk later, okay? I need to go home if I want to be on time.” He hesitated but agreed in the end.

“No goodbye kiss?”  He asked and you looked around to make sure you were alone, the rest of the team also left the gym to get changed and go home and there was no one to be seen on the hallway, so you inched closer to him until you were breathing on his lips, he closed his eyes waiting for you to kiss him. 

“No.” You said and ran as fast as you could to your office, ignoring Atsumu’s whining from behind. You decided you wouldn't let him have his way with you this time, at least until he was clear with what he wanted. While it was true that you spent a lot of time together after that night at Aran’s house, not a word about the nature of your relationship was spoken, it was a silent agreement between the two of you, you clearly liked each other but you were still scared to jump into a relationship of any kind and Atsumu wasn’t really open about his intentions, so you decided that each other’s company was enough. That until your feelings for the setter started to change from a childish crush to something deeper that you couldn’t explain — more like, you were scared to admit.— and that was constantly on your mind.

And it wasn’t that Atsumu wanted to play with your feelings, he was just as scared as you, he never really committed to a relationship because he was so focused on his career as a volleyball player. But you made everything easier and it just felt right, he wanted to come clean and tell you how much he truly liked you but he didn’t knew how. He thought he was going too fast, but if he waited for too long you would forget about him. What if you weren’t looking for something serious with him? Truth is, you didn’t knew what you were looking for, but something about Atsumu made you believe that maybe this was a second chance for you to find happiness. 

But you wouldn’t know unless one of you gathered the courage to admit you were helplessly in love.

(a/n: hey everyone! im finally back after so long, im really excited to post this chapter since i finally got a hang of my creativity again, i would like to thank miss taylor swift and miss hayley williams for the inspiration, you should listen to FLOWERS for VASES / descansos by hayley, listening to it last night gave me the push i needed to finish writing (i am updating the fic playlist regurlarly if you like to check it out ;)). also, did you see those two???? THEY ARE SO CUTE when i tell you i was screaming last night when i was writing the last few scenes, i mean it. thank you so much for your patience and your concern for my health, i am doing much better physically, emotionally im still working on myself so i can stop projecting my sadness on poor y/n TT i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i promised my betas i wouldnt take more than two weeks to write the next chapter and hopefully i can keep my promise. take care, and i hope all of you are wearing your masks and staying safe. <3)  

masterlist

TAGLIST (closed) :  @aonenthusiast @wiseeggspickleslime​ @koushisun​ @airheadpillar​ @sunflwrsandprettyskies​ @bbkiyoomi​ @daphnxy​ @shephard17895​ @avatarkyoshithewarrior​ @for-rebloggery​ @vv-bee999-vv vv @fi16ns @asdfghjkl7things @glassykaashi @strawhatshepard @hawkssnugget @msby-kei @toobsessedsstuff @a-moon-fairy @cuteissei @ramblingsofagoofyperson @pinoyrella @kiyoomisimp

#atsumu x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x reader #hq iwaizumi #Miya Atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu scenarios #msby atsumu #msby black jackal #msby bj #bokuto #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu!! #hq anime #hq angst #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader

[itstittycitybaby]

Naivety is Enduring (Lin Beifong x reader)

a/n: can’t figure out a better title lmao but this fic is based on one of the asks i’ve gotten. reader is a shy, oblivious officer at the station who’s accidentally been flirting with Lin. 

You kept your head up as you sifted through the streets of Republic City. The streets were almost completely bare with little to no traffic. However, about an hour later that’s when chaos errupted. Your shift started in thirty minutes, but you always took pride on being early. 

Your job wasn’t too important. Compared to the detectives, the actual officers that made rounds, and chief Beifong, it was insignificant. The front desk needed somebody to help keep things under control and dealt with the people coming in and out. It didn’t matter to you. In fact you preferred it. Working the front desk made it easier for you to be more discreet. The quiet and the calm helped ground you unlike going into the streets of the city everyday. Talking to some of the people coming in and out still made you anxious, but it wasn’t so bad.

Letting out a soft sigh, you unlocked the doors. It was dark in the station, which was expected, but in the hall a light was on. It was the last door on the left. Chief Beifong’s office. You couldn’t help but frown. It was four thirty am. Everyone was either asleep or making their way to the station. You weren’t surprised; Chief Beifong was known to work late into the night and the early morning. There was no stopping her. 

Setting down your stuff, you started opening up. You winced at the bright lights as they flickered on. Everything seemed to be there where you left it. You groaned at the never ending filing you had to do. Along with the petty reports you had to sign and date.

Time passed for ten minutes. Then fifteen. You thought Chief Beifong would have left her office. She usually did whenever the first person came into the station but she stayed locked up.

Shaking it off, you made your way to the break room. A pot of coffee would freshen the two of you up. Though, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Talking to people had never been your strong suit. Especially Chief Beifong. The officers did their best to tread around her carefully and only speak to her when they had to. “Everyone deserves someone to talk to,” you reassured yourself as you poured water into the pot. “Even if they’re fucking terrifying.”

When the coffee was finished you grabbed two mugs. You put sugar and cream in yours. You had a feeling Chief Beifong didn’t like anything in her coffee. If she didn’t like it so be it. At least you tried. Pushing the door open with your hips, you clutched the mugs in your hand tightly. You cursed softly as some of the hot coffee spilled onto your hand. Your hand became a bit red and it hurt like a mother fucker. You made your way past a couple of officers and nodded and smiled at them. They murmured a good morning but continued to chat. No matter, you weren’t as important as they were, you mused.

You swallowed thickly as you stood in front of the imposing door. Chief Beifong never failed to make you nervous. She was scary as hell but before you could chicken out, you knocked on her door twice. Good number. Not too hard and not too soft, you thought. “Come in,” a gruff, but muffled voice replied from the other side of the door. 

Pushing aside your nerves, you opened the door quietly. The head of gray hair that you loved lifted up from the papers in front of her. A brow raised in your direction with a tiny frown on her face. “Yes?”

You fought the urge to fidget and gave the chief an uneasy smile. Focus. “I saw you were still awake,” you said softly, trying not to make her more irritated, “so I brought you a mug of coffee.” Chief Beifong’s eyes narrowed a bit. From suspicion or irritation, you couldn’t tell. God, you wanted the floor to swallow you. You hated it when she dissected you with cold stares. It was just a cup of coffee for fucks sake!

You shuffled your feet nervously as you waited her to say something. Either a sharp “Get out” or a gruff “thanks”, you didn’t care. At this point you just wanted to get out. Chief Beifong’s green eyes lightened a bit. A wave of relief washed over you. Success. “Thank you,” she quipped, looking back down at her paper work. “You really shouldn’t have.” “It’s no problem,” you replied, a shy smile on your face. You set the mug carefully with a gentle thud, and made your leave. 

But you felt like it wasn’t enough. You wanted to be different from the other officers. They were all intimidated and terrified of her. Not that you could blame them, but they didn’t even try to be friendly. You had gotten this far, what else could go wrong? So, with all the courage you had left you said, “Have a good day Chief.” With that, you left her office with a surprised Chief behind her desk.

“Ready for training?” You looked up from the files you were sifting through to put away. The stack was never ending but you had made good progress. It had only been one third of it wiped out, but it was still progress. You could barely contain your surprise. “Y-yes Chief Beifong,” you sputtered holding the manilla file tightly. Her brow twitched and her eyes stared into your soul. Were they always that pretty?

“Good. You’re up in ten.” You nodded, “Yes m’am.” You swore you saw a smirk before she turned around and left you there standing like an idiot. “Get yourself together,” you whispered harshly, cheeks burning.

You sighed as the hot water hit your back. The aching joints and your sore muscles started to soothe under the shower’s water. You’ve always hated training especially whenever the Chief observed you. It was her job but still, did she have to stare? She wasn’t afraid to correct you every five seconds, but how could you concentrate whenever you had a HUGE crush on her? “Fuckin…Chief having to be her hot…self whenever she’s around,” you grumbled to yourself in the empty locker room.

Shivering, you hurried to your satchel to change back into your uniform. The towel around you did little to warm your body. “Didn’t think I’d still see you here.” You jumped. “Oh my god,” you squeaked, pulling your towel closer to you. “C-Chief,” you greeted, cheeks flaming. “P-pleasant surprise.” 

She didn’t say anything as she grabbed her bag. She still had her white tank top on which showed off her toned arms. The cargo pants she wore hugged her ass perfectly. The chief’s normally gray hair was pulled up into a bun. Fuck, did she look good.

Suddenly, Chief Beifong turned to you. You jumped, startled, eyes snapping up to hers. She looked surprised and you swear to the spirits her cheeks turned slightly pink. “U-uh uhhh uhhh,” you sputtered, trying to explain yourself. Grabbing your bag with incredible speed, you spilled out, “I-I gotta go C-Chief! Nice uhhhh talking to you!” With that you dashed out of the locker rooms and left a dumfounded Lin Beifong.

“I fucking hate myself,” you spat in the mirror as you flung your uniform back on. Chief Beifong caught you checking her out. You were fucked. Screwed. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if she handed you resignation letters once you got back to the front desk. You could’t blame her. Maybe you could find a nice little job? Out in the surrounding cities? Far away from Republic City? That sounded like a great idea. You could see it now. Sure the pay wouldn’t probably be the greatest, but it’s better than having the embarassment of being fired in front of your colleagues. They already thought your rank was a disgrace. Imagine the gossip once they figured out the reason for getting fired.

Sighing, you begrudgingly trudged out of the bathroom. Anxiety bubbled in your chest as you left the safe haven behind you and returned to your desk. Maybe she’d just forget about it? “She wont,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Get yourself together,” you scolded yourself. “We can go home and sulk later. We’ve got a job to do.”

“See you!” You waved, a fake grin plastered on your face. Your coworker didn’t seem to notice though. You hated talking to the officers; they were usually lovely people, but talking to people made you feel smaller claw and insignificant. It was tiring and made you feel stupid that you had trouble talking to people.

Five thirty rolled around on the clock. You still had some filing to finish, sign some mediocre documents, and take care of the citizens coming in and out. Almost everyone had left except for a few people in the station. You were surprised you didn’t find any resignation papers on your desk, or god forbid Chief Beifong waiting at your desk to chew you out. It would be well deserved at least. But now, you didn’t know how to go from here.

Just pretend everything is normal, you told yourself. Oh, if only the spirits were on your side. “Chief Beifong wants to see you.” You sighed, turning to the officer. You hated the pity they held for you. Their face held a grimace as they watched you get up from the floor. “Alright, thanks.” They nodded, but left you to wallow in the anxiety of facing your boss and loosing your job. “Better make the most of it, was great while it lasted.”

Your feet trudged to her door. You felt your heart quicken and the lump in your throat was like a heavy tone. The beating of your heart felt like a sharp dagger piercing into is. You rubbed your clammy hands on your trousers and swallowed. “Enter,” the gruff voice answered once you gathered the courage to knock. Taking one last breath, you gently opened the door. You dreaded the moment the door closed with a soft click.

“I-I’m really sorry,” you stuttered as soon as you went inside. Chief Beifong followed the movement of your twiddling fingers before looking you in the eye. “It was very unprofessional of me to.. d-do that and I understand if you want to fire me.” Chief Beifong didn’t say anything. She looked surprised. Her hands were folded underneath her chin as she studied you. Her green eyes focused in on you. You felt more like a mouse now than you usually did.

“You’re not getting fired.” Confused, you tilted your head. Your brows furrowed deeply. You nibbled your lips as you asked, “What?” Chief Beifong chuckled, “No, in fact, I wanted to ask if you were busy tonight. Maybe get a couple drinks.”

“O-oh,” you said softly, hands dropping by your sides. “Yea sure. I-I can ask some of the other officers if they’d like to come to!” Chief Beifong stared at you. She was trying to process the situation. “No,” she started, “I’m..asking you out..on a date.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. OH. The tips of your ears burned red along with your cheeks. The chief’s eyes glittered with amusement. You nodded, averting her eyes. “Y-yes. I’d like that.” “Good,” she replied, a barely there smirk on her face. “Give me fifteen minutes and I should be finished with this.” Nodding, you made your way to the door. “You got it Chief.” “Lin.” “Huh?” “Call me Lin.” Smiling you said, “Alright, Lin.” It felt foreign on your tongue but you liked it. Leaving her office, you gave her one last timid wave. And no you did not skip all the way back to your desk.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #legend of korra #legend of korra fanfic #x reader #reader insert #legend of korra x reader

[justforbooks]

The many lives of John le Carré, in his own words.

An exclusive extract from his new memoir, The Pigeon Tunnel.

How I write

If you’re ever lucky enough to score an early success as a writer, as happened to me with The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, for the rest of your life there’s a before-the-fall and an after-the-fall. You look back at the books you wrote before the searchlight picked you out and they read like the books of your innocence; and the books after it, in your low moments, like the strivings of a man on trial. ‘Trying too hard’ the critics cry. I never thought I was trying too hard. I reckoned I owed it to my success to get the best out of myself, and by and large, however good or bad the best was, that was what I did.

And I love writing. I love doing what I’m doing at this moment, scribbling away like a man in hiding at a poky desk on a black clouded early morning in May, with the mountain rain scuttling down the window and no excuse for tramping down to the railway station under an umbrella because the International New York Times doesn’t arrive until lunchtime.

I love writing on the hoof, in notebooks on walks, in trains and cafés, then scurrying home to pick over my booty. When I am in Hampstead there is a bench I favour on the Heath, tucked under a spreading tree and set apart from its companions, and that’s where I like to scribble. I have only ever written by hand. Arrogantly perhaps, I prefer to remain with the centuries-old tradition of unmechanized writing. The lapsed graphic artist in me actually enjoys drawing the words.

I love best the privacy of writing. On research trips, I am partially protected by having a different name in real life. I can sign into hotels without anxiously wondering whether my name will be recognised, then, when it isn’t, anxiously wondering why not. When I’m obliged to come clean with the people whose experience I want to tap, results vary. One person refuses to trust me another inch, the next promotes me to chief of the secret service and, over my protestations that I was only ever the lowest form of secret life, replies that I would say that, wouldn’t I? There are many things I am disinclined to write about ever, just as there are in anyone’s life. I have been neither a model husband nor a model father, and am not interested in appearing that way. Love came to me late, after many missteps. I owe my ethical education to my four sons. Of my work for British intelligence, performed mostly in Germany, I wish to add nothing to what is already reported by others, inaccurately, elsewhere. In this I am bound by vestiges of old-fashioned loyalty to my former services, but also by undertakings I gave to the men and women who agreed to collaborate with me. It was understood between us that the promise of confidentiality would be subject to no time limit, but extend to their children and beyond. The work we engaged in was neither perilous nor dramatic, but it involved painful soul-searching on the part of those who signed up to it. Whether today these people are alive or dead, the promise of confidentiality holds.

Spying was forced on me from birth much in the way, I suppose, that the sea was forced on CS Forester or India on Paul Scott. Out of the secret world I once knew, I have tried to make a theatre for the larger worlds we inhabit. First comes the imagining, then the search for the reality. Then back to the imagining, and to the desk where I’m sitting now.

My Father: conman and inspiration

It took me a long while to get on writing terms with Ronnie, conman, fantasist, occasional jailbird, and my father. From the day I made my first faltering attempts at a novel, he was the one I wanted to get to grips with, but I was light years away from being up to the job. My earliest drafts of what eventually became A Perfect Spy dripped with self-pity: cast your eye, gentle reader, upon this emotionally crippled boy, crushed underfoot by his tyrannical father. It was only when he was safely dead and I took up the novel again that I did what I should have done at the beginning, and made the sins of the son a whole lot more reprehensible than the sins of the father.

With that settled, I was able to honour the legacy of his tempestuous life: a cast of characters to make the most blas�� writer’s mouth water, from eminent legal brains of the day and stars of sport and screen to the finest of London’s criminal underworld and the beautiful creatures who trailed in their wake. Wherever Ronnie went, the unpredictable went with him. Are we up or down? Can we fill up the car on tick at the local garage? Has he fled the country or will he be proudly parking the Bentley in the drive tonight? Or is he enjoying the safety and comfort of one of his alternative wives?

Of Ronnie’s dealings with organised crime, if any, I know lamentably little. Yes, he rubbed shoulders with the notorious Kray twins, but that may just have been celebrity-hunting. And yes, he did business of a sort with London’s worst-ever landlord, Peter Rachman, and my best guess would be that when Rachman’s thugs had got rid of Ronnie’s tenants for him, he sold off the houses and gave Rachman a piece. But a full‑on criminal partnership? Not the Ronnie I knew. Conmen are aesthetes. They wear nice suits, have clean fingernails and are well spoken at all times. Policemen in Ronnie’s book were first-rate fellows who were open to negotiation. The same could not be said of “the boys”, as he called them, and you messed with the boys at your peril.

Ronnie’s entire life was spent walking on the thinnest, slipperiest layer of ice you can imagine. He saw no paradox between being on the wanted list for fraud and sporting a grey topper in the owners’ enclosure at Ascot. A reception at Claridge’s to celebrate his second marriage was interrupted while he persuaded two Scotland Yard detectives to put off arresting him until the party was over – and, meanwhile, come in and join the fun, which they duly did.  But I don’t think Ronnie could have lived any other way. I don’t think he wanted to. He was a crisis addict, a performance addict, a shameless pulpit orator and a scene-grabber. He was a delusional enchanter and a persuader who saw himself as God’s golden boy, and he wrecked a lot of people’s lives.

Graham Greene tells us that childhood is the credit balance of the writer. By that measure at least, I was born a millionaire.

Sixty-something years back, I asked my mother, Olive, how prison changed Ronnie. Olive was a tap you couldn’t turn off. From the moment of our reunion at Ipswich railway station, she talked about Ronnie nonstop. She talked about his sexuality long before I had sorted out mine, and for ease of reference gave me a tattered hardback copy of Krafft-Ebing’s Psychopathia Sexualis as a map to guide me through her husband’s appetites before and after jail.

“Changed, dear? In prison? Not a bit of it! You were totally unchanged. You’d lost weight, of course – well, you would. Prison food isn’t meant to be nice.” And then the image that will never leave me, not least because she seemed unaware of what she was saying: “And you did have this silly habit of stopping in front of doors and waiting at attention with your head down till I opened them for you. They were perfectly ordinary doors, not locked or anything, but you obviously weren’t expecting to be able to open them for yourself.” Why did Olive refer to Ronnie as you? You meaning he, but subconsciously recruiting me to be his surrogate, which by the time of her death was what I had become.

There is an audiotape that Olive made for my brother Tony, all about her life with Ronnie. I still can’t bear to play it, so all I’ve ever heard is scraps. On the tape she describes how Ronnie used to beat her up, which, according to Olive, was what prompted her to bolt. Ronnie’s violence was not news to me, because he had made a habit of beating up his second wife as well: so often and so purposefully and coming home at such odd hours of the night to do it that, seized by a chivalrous impulse, I appointed myself her ridiculous protector, sleeping on a mattress in front of her bedroom door and clutching a golf iron so that Ronnie would have to reckon with me before he got at her.

Ronnie beat me up, too, but only a few times and not with much conviction. It was the shaping up that was the scary part: the lowering and readying of the shoulders, the resetting of the jaw. And when I was grown up, Ronnie tried to sue me, which I suppose is violence in disguise. He had watched a television documentary of my life and decided there was an implicit slander in my failure to mention that I owed everything to him.

For the last third of Ronnie’s life – he died suddenly at the age of 69 – we were estranged or at loggerheads. Almost by mutual consent, there were terrible obligatory scenes, and when we buried the hatchet, we always remembered where we’d put it. Do I feel more kindly towards him today than I did then? Sometimes I walk round him, sometimes he’s the mountain I still have to climb. Either way, he’s always there, which I can’t say for my mother, because to this day I have no idea what sort of person she was. I ran her to earth when I was 21, and thereafter broadly attended to her needs, not always with good grace. But from the day of our reunion until she died, the frozen child in me showed not the smallest sign of thawing out. Did she love animals? Landscape? The sea that she lived beside? Music? Painting? Me? Did she read books? Certainly she had no high opinion of mine, but what about other people’s?

In the nursing home where she stayed during her last years, we spent much of our time deploring or laughing at my father’s misdeeds. As my visits continued, I came to realise that she had created for herself – and for me – an idyllic mother–son relationship that had flowed uninterrupted from my birth till now.

Today, I don’t remember feeling any affection in childhood except for my elder brother, who for a time was my only parent. I remember a constant tension in myself that even in great age has not relaxed. I remember little of being very young. I remember the dissembling as we grew up, and the need to cobble together an identity for myself and how, in order to do this, I filched from the manners and lifestyle of my peers and betters, even to the extent of pretending I had a settled home life with real parents and ponies. Listening to myself today, watching myself when I have to, I can still detect traces of the lost originals, chief among them obviously my father.

All this no doubt made me an ideal recruit to the secret flag. But nothing lasted: not the Eton schoolmaster, not the MI5 man, not the MI6 man. Only the writer in me stuck the course. If I look over my life from here, I see it as a succession of engagements and escapes, and I thank goodness that the writing kept me relatively straight and largely sane. My father’s refusal to accept the simplest truth about himself set me on a path of enquiry from which I never returned. In the absence of a mother or sisters, I learned women late, if ever, and we all paid a price for that.

A trip to Panama

In 1885, France’s gargantuan efforts to build a sea-level canal across the Darien ended in disaster. Small and large investors of every stamp were ruined. In consequence there arose across the country the pained cry of “Quel Panama!” Whether the expression has endured in the French language is doubtful, but it speaks well for my own association with that beautiful country, which began in 1947 when my father, Ronnie, dispatched me to Paris to collect £500 from the Panamanian ambassador to France, one Count Mario da Bernaschina, who occupied a sweet house in one of those elegant side roads off the Elysées that smell permanently of women’s scent.

It was evening when I arrived by appointment on the ambassadorial doorstep wearing my grey school suit, my hair brushed and parted. I was 16 years old. The ambassador, my father had advised me, was a first-class fellow and would be happy to settle a longstanding debt of honour. I wanted very much to believe him.

The front door to the elegant house was opened by the most desirable woman I had ever seen. I must have been standing one step beneath her, because in my memory she is smiling down on me like my angel redeemer. She was bare-shouldered, black-haired and wore a flimsy dress in layer after layer of chiffon that failed to disguise her shape. When you are 16, desirable women come in all ages. From today’s vantage point, I would put her at a blossoming thirtysomething.

“You are Ronnie’s son?” she asked incredulously. She stood back to let me brush past her. Laying a hand on each of my shoulders, she scrutinised me playfully from head to toe under the hall light and seemed to find everything to her satisfaction.

“And you have come to see Mario?” she said.

If that’s all right, I said.

Her hands remained on my shoulders while her eyes of many colours continued to study me. “And you are still a boy,” she remarked, as a kind of memo to herself.

The count stood in his drawing room with his back to the fireplace, like every ambassador in every movie of the time: corpulent, in a velvet jacket, hands behind him and that perfect head of greying hair they all had – marcelled, we used to call it – and the curved handshake, man to man, although I’m still a boy. The countess – for so I have cast her – doesn’t ask me whether I drink alcohol, let alone whether I like daiquiri. My answer to both questions would anyway have been a truthless “yes”. She hands me a frosted glass with a speared cherry in it, and we all sit down in soft chairs and do a bit of ambassadorial small talk. Am I enjoying the city? Do I have many friends in Paris? A girlfriend, perhaps? Mischievous wink. To which I no doubt give compelling and mendacious answers that make no mention of golf clubs or concierges, until a pause in the conversation tells me it’s time for me to broach the purpose of my visit which, as experience has already taught me, is best done from the side rather than head on.

“And my father mentioned that you and he had a small matter of business to complete, sir,” I suggest, hearing myself from a distance on account of the daiquiri.

I should here explain the nature of that small matter of business which, unlike so many of Ronnie’s deals, was simplicity itself. As a diplomat and a top ambassador, son – I am echoing the enthusiasm with which Ronnie had briefed me for my mission – the count was immune from such tedious irritations as taxation and import duty. The count could import what he wished, he could export what he wished. If someone, for instance, chose to send the count a cask of unmatured, unbranded Scotch whisky at a couple of pence a pint under diplomatic immunity, and the count were to bottle that whisky and ship it to Panama, or wherever else he chose to ship it under diplomatic immunity, that was nobody’s business but his.

Equally, if the count chose to export the said unmatured, unbranded whisky in bottles of a certain design – akin, let us imagine, to Dimple Haig, a popular brand of the day – that, too, was his good right, as was the choice of label and the description of the bottle’s contents. All that need concern me was that the count should pay up – cash, son, no monkey business. Thus provided, I should treat myself to a nice mixed grill at Ronnie’s expense, keep the receipt, catch the first ferry next morning and come straight to his grand offices in the West End of London with the balance.

“A matter of business, David?” the count repeated in the tone of my school housemaster. “What business can that be?”

“The £500 you owe him, sir.”

I remember his puzzled smile, so forbearing. I remember the richly draped sofas and silky cushions, old mirrors and gold glint, and my countess with her long legs crossed inside the layers of chiffon. The count continued to survey me with a mixture of puzzlement and concern. So did my countess. Then they surveyed each other as if to compare notes about what they’d surveyed.

“Well, that’s a pity, David. Because when I heard you were coming to see me, I rather hoped you might be bringing me a portion of the large sum of money I have invested in your dear father’s enterprises.”

I still don’t know how I responded to this startling reply, or whether I was as startled as I should have been. I remember briefly losing my sense of time and place, and I suppose this was partly induced by the daiquiri, and partly by the recognition that I had nothing to say and no right to be sitting in their drawing room, and that the best thing I could do was make my excuses and get out. Then I realised that I was alone in the room. After a while, my host and hostess returned.

The count’s smile was genial and relaxed. The countess looked particularly pleased. “So, David,” said the count, as if all were forgiven. “Why don’t we go and have dinner and talk about something more pleasant?”

They had a favourite Russian restaurant 50 yards from the house. In my memory, it is a tiny place and we are the only three people in it, save for a man in a baggy white shirt who plucked at a balalaika. Over dinner, while the count talked about something more pleasant, the countess kicked off a shoe and caressed my leg with her stockinged toe. On the tiny dance floor she sang Dark Eyes to me, holding the length of me against her and nibbling my earlobe while she flirted with the balalaika man and the count looked indulgently on. On our return to the table, the count decided that we were ready for bed. The countess, by a squeeze of my hand, seconded the motion.

My memory has spared me the excuses I made, but somehow I made them. Somehow I found myself a bench in a park, and somehow I contrived to remain the boy she had declared me to be. Decades later, finding myself alone in Paris, I tried to seek out the very street, the house, the restaurant. But by then no reality would have done them justice.

Now I am not pretending that it was the magnetic force of the count and countess that half a century later drew me to Panama for the space of two novels and one movie; merely that the recollection of that sensuous, unfulfilled night remained lodged in my memory, if only as one of the near-misses of interminable adolescence. Within days of my arrival in Panama City, I was enquiring after the name. Bernaschina? Nobody had heard of the fellow. A count? From Panama? It seemed most improbable. Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing? I hadn’t.

I had come to Panama to research a novel. Unusually, it already had a title: The Night Manager. I was looking for the sort of crooks, smooth talkers and dirty deals that would brighten the life of an amoral English arms seller named Richard Onslow Roper. Roper would be a high-flyer where my father, Ronnie, had been a low one who frequently crashed. Ronnie had tried selling arms in Indonesia and gone to jail for it. Roper was too big to fail, until he met his destiny in the shape of a former special forces soldier turned hotel night manager named Jonathan Pine.

Working with Sir Alec Guinness

“We are definitely not as our host here describes us,” says Sir Maurice Oldfield severely to Sir Alec Guinness over lunch. Oldfield is a former chief of the secret service who was later hung out to dry by Margaret Thatcher, but at the time of our meeting, he is just another old spy in retirement. “I’ve always wanted to meet Sir Alec,” he told me in his homey, north country voice when I invited him. “Ever since I sat opposite him on the train going up from Winchester. I’d have got into conversation with him if I’d had the nerve.”

Guinness is about to play my secret agent George Smiley in the BBC’s television adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and wishes to savour the company of a real old spy. But the lunch does not proceed as smoothly as I had hoped. Over the hors d’oeuvres, Oldfield extols the ethical standards of his old service and implies, in the nicest way, that “young David here” has besmirched its good name.

Guinness, a former naval officer, who from the moment of meeting Oldfield has appointed himself to the upper echelons of the secret service, can only shake his head sagely and agree. Over the Dover sole, Oldfield takes his thesis a step further: “It’s young David and his like,” he declares across the table to Guinness while ignoring me sitting beside him, “that make it that much harder for the service to recruit decent officers and sources. They read his books and they’re put off. It’s only natural.” To which Guinness lowers his eyelids and shakes his head in a deploring sort of way, while I pay the bill.

“You should join the Athenaeum, David,” Oldfield says kindly, implying that the Athenaeum will somehow make a better person of me. “I’ll sponsor you myself. There. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” And to Guinness, as the three of us stand on the threshold of the restaurant: “A pleasure indeed, Alec. An honour, I must say. We shall be in touch very shortly, I’m sure.”

“We shall indeed,” Guinness replies devoutly, as the two old spies shake hands.

Unable apparently to get enough of our departing guest, Guinness gazes fondly after him as he pounds off down the pavement: a small, vigorous gentleman of purpose, striding along with his umbrella thrust ahead of him as he disappears into the crowd. “How about another cognac for the road?” Guinness suggests, and we have hardly resumed our places before the interrogation begins: “Those very vulgar cufflinks. Do all our spies wear them?” No, Alec, I think Maurice just likes vulgar cufflinks.

“And those loud orange suede boots with crepe soles. Are they for stealth?” I think they’re just for comfort actually, Alec. Crepe squeaks. “Then tell me this.” He has grabbed an empty tumbler. Tipping it to an angle, he flicks at it with his thick fingertip. “I’ve seen people do this before” – making a show of peering meditatively into the tumbler while he continues to flick it – “and I’ve seen people do this” – now rotating the finger round the rim in the same contemplative vein.

“But I’ve never seen people do this before” – inserting his finger into the tumbler and passing it round the inside. “Do you think he’s looking for dregs of poison?”

Is he being serious? The child in Guinness has never been more serious in its life. Well, I suppose if it was dregs he was looking for, he’d have drunk the poison by then, I suggest. But he prefers to ignore me.

It is a matter of entertainment history that Oldfield’s suede boots, crepe-soled or other, and his rolled umbrella thrust forward to feel out the path ahead, became essential properties for Guinness’s portrayal of George Smiley, old spy in a hurry. I haven’t checked on the cufflinks recently, but I have a memory that our director thought them a little overdone and persuaded Guinness to trade them in for something less flashy.

The other legacy of our lunch was less enjoyable, if artistically more creative. Oldfield’s distaste for my work – and, I suspect, for myself – struck deep root in Guinness’s thespian soul, and he was not above reminding me of it when he felt the need to rack up George Smiley’s sense of personal guilt; or, as he liked to imply, mine.

Lunch with Rupert Murdoch

One morning in the autumn of 1991, I opened my Times newspaper to be greeted by my own face glowering up at me. From my sour expression, I could tell at once that the text around it wasn’t going to be friendly. A struggling Warsaw theatre, I read, was celebrating its post-communist freedom by putting on a stage version of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. But the rapacious le Carré [see photograph] wanted a whacking £150 per performance: “The price of freedom, we suppose.”

I took another look at the photograph and saw exactly the sort of fellow who does indeed go round preying on struggling Polish theatres. Grasping. Unsavoury appetites. Just look at those eyebrows. I had by now ceased to enjoy my breakfast. Keep calm and call your agent. I fail on the first count, succeed on the second. My literary agent’s name is Rainer. In what the novelists call a quavering voice, I read the article aloud to him. Has he, I suggest delicately – might he possibly, just this once, is it at all conceivable? – on this occasion been a tad too zealous on my behalf? Rainer is emphatic. Quite the reverse. Since the Poles are still in the recovery ward after the collapse of communism, he has been a total pussycat. We are not charging the theatre £150 per performance, he assures me, but a measly £26, the minimum standard rate. In addition to which, we’ve thrown in the rights for free. In short, a sweetheart deal, David, a deliberate helping hand to a Polish theatre in time of need. Great, I say, bewildered and inwardly seething.

Keep calm and fax the editor of the Times. His response is lofty. Not to put too fine an edge on it, it is infuriating. He sees no great harm in the piece, he says. He suggests that a man in my fortunate position should take the rough with the smooth. This is not advice I am prepared to accept. But who to turn to?

Why, of course: the man who owns the newspaper, Rupert Murdoch, my old buddy!

Well, not exactly buddy. I had met Murdoch socially on a couple of occasions, though I doubted whether he remembered them. I have three conditions, I say: number one, a generous apology prominently printed in the Times; number two, a handsome donation to the struggling Polish theatre. And number three, lunch. Next morning his reply was lying on the floor beneath my fax machine: “Your terms accepted. Rupert.”

The Savoy Grill in those days had a kind of upper level for moguls: red-plush, horseshoe-shaped affairs where in more colourful days gentlemen of money might have entertained their ladies. I breathe the name Murdoch to the maître d’hôtel and am shown to one of the privés. I am early. Murdoch is bang on time. He is smaller than I remember him, but more pugnacious, and has acquired that hasty waddle and little buck of the pelvis with which great men of affairs advance on one another, hand outstretched, for the cameras. The slant of the head in relation to the body is more pronounced than I remember, and when he wrinkles up his eyes to give me his sunny smile, I have the odd feeling he’s taking aim at me. We sit down, we face each other. I notice – how can I not? – the unsettling collection of rings on his left hand. We order our food and exchange a couple of banalities. Rupert says he’s sorry about that stuff they wrote about me. Brits, he says, are great penmen, but they don’t always get things right. I say, not at all, and thanks for your sporting response. But enough of small talk. He is staring straight at me and the sunny smile has vanished.

“Who killed Bob Maxwell?” he demands.

Robert Maxwell, for those lucky enough not to remember him, was a Czech-born media baron, British parliamentarian and the alleged spy of several nations, including Israel, the Soviet Union and Britain. As a young Czech freedom fighter, he had taken part in the Normandy landings and later earned himself a British army commission and a gallantry medal. After the war, he worked for the Foreign Office in Berlin. He was also a flamboyant liar and rogue of gargantuan proportions and appetites who plundered the pension fund of his own companies to the tune of £440m, owed around £4bn that he had no way of repaying and in November 1991 was found dead in the seas off Tenerife, having apparently fallen from the deck of a lavish private yacht named after his daughter. Conspiracy theories abounded. To some, it was a clear case of suicide by a man ensnared by his own crimes; to others, murder by one of the several intelligence agencies he had supposedly worked for. But which one? Why Murdoch should imagine I know the  answer to this question is beyond me, but I do my best to give satisfaction. Well, Rupert, if we’re really saying it’s not suicide, then probably, for my money, it was the Israelis, I suggest.

“Why?”

I’ve read the rumours that are flying around, as we all have. I regurgitate them: Maxwell, the long-term agent of Israeli intelligence, blackmailing his former paymasters; Maxwell, who had traded with the Shining Path in Peru, offering Israeli weapons in exchange for strategic cobalt; Maxwell, threatening to go public unless the Israelis paid up. But Rupert Murdoch is already on his feet, shaking my hand and saying it was great to meet me again. And maybe he’s as embarrassed as I am, or just bored, because already he’s powering his way out of the room, and great men don’t sign bills, they leave them to their people. Estimated duration of lunch: 25 minutes.

A meeting with Margaret Thatcher

The prime minister’s office wished to recommend me for a medal, and I had declined. I had not voted for her, but that fact had nothing to do with my decision. I felt, as I feel today, that I was not cut out for our honours system, that it represents much of what I most dislike about our country. In my letter of reply, I took care to assure the prime minister’s office that my churlishness did not spring from any personal or political animosity, offered my thanks and compliments to the prime minister, and assumed I would hear no more.

I was wrong. In a second letter, her office struck a more intimate note. Lest I was regretting a decision taken in heat, the writer wished me to know that the door to an honour was still open. I replied, equally courteously I hope, that as far as I was concerned the door was firmly shut, and would remain so in any similar contingency. Again, my thanks. Again, my compliments to the prime minister. And again I assumed the matter was closed, until a third letter arrived, inviting me to lunch. There were six tables set in the dining room of 10 Downing Street that day, but I only remember ours, which had Mrs Thatcher at its head and the Dutch prime minister Ruud Lubbers on her  right, and myself in a tight new grey suit on her left. The year must have been 1982. I was just back from the Middle East, Lubbers had just been appointed. Our other three guests remain a pink blob to me. I assumed, for reasons that today escape me, that they were industrialists from the north. Neither do I remember any opening exchanges between the six of us, but perhaps they had happened over cocktails before we sat down. But I do remember Mrs Thatcher turning to the Dutch prime minister and acquainting him with my distinction. “Now, Mr Lubbers,” she announced in a tone to prepare him for a nice surprise, “this is Mr Cornwell, but you will know him better as the writer John le Carré.”

Leaning forward, Mr Lubbers took a close look at me. He had a youthful face, almost a playful one. He smiled, I smiled: really friendly smiles. “No,” he said. And sat back in his chair, still smiling. But Mrs Thatcher, it is well known, did not lightly take no for an answer.

“Oh, come, Mr Lubbers. You’ve heard of John le Carré. He wrote The Spy Who Came In From The Cold and…” – fumbling slightly – “… other wonderful books.”

Lubbers, nothing if not a politician, reconsidered his position. Again he leaned forward and took another, longer look at me, as amiable as the first, but more considered, more statesmanlike.

“No,” he repeated.

Now it was Mrs Thatcher’s turn to take a long look at me, and I underwent something of what her all-male cabinet must have experienced when they, too, incurred her displeasure. “Well, Mr Cornwell,” she said, as to an errant schoolboy who had been brought to account, “since you’re here” – implying that I had somehow talked my way in – “have  you anything you wish to say to me?”

Belatedly, it occurred to me that I had indeed something to say to her, if badly. Having recently returned from South Lebanon, I felt obliged to plead the cause of stateless Palestinians. Lubbers listened. The gentlemen from the industrial north listened. But Mrs Thatcher listened more attentively than all of them, and with no sign of the impatience of which she was frequently accused. Even when I had stumbled to the end of my aria, she went on listening before delivering herself of her response. “Don’t give me sob stories,” she ordered me with sudden vehemence, striking the key words for emphasis. “Every day people appeal to my emotions. You can’t govern that way. It simply isn’t fair.”

Whereupon, appealing to my emotions, she reminded me that it was the Palestinians who had trained the IRA bombers who had murdered her friend Airey Neave, the British war hero and politician, and her close adviser. After that, I don’t believe we spoke to each other much. Occasionally I do ask myself whether Mrs Thatcher nevertheless had an ulterior motive in inviting me. Was she, for instance, sizing me up for one of her quangos – those strange quasi-official public bodies that have authority but no power, or is it the other way round? But I found it hard to imagine what possible use she could have for me – unless, of course, she wanted guidance from the horse’s mouth on how to sort out her squabbling spies.

• This is an edited extract from The Pigeon Tunnel: Stories From My Life, by John le Carré, published next week by Viking at £20. Order a copy for £15 from the Guardian bookshop.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #John le Carré #The Pigeon Tunnel: Stories From My Life

[sunqyu]

~ Treasure realizing they love you and the first time they say it pt 1.

Request 1: “ hmm im all in cute feelings, so FIRST I LOVE YOUS with treasure reaction thingy, would be super sweet 🙊💗🌼🌼 “ - anon

Request 2: “ i love your writing! treasure realizing theyre in love with their s/o🥺 “ - anon

These requests are both so adorable and fitting so I decided to combine them. Hope you enjoooy. Also, buckle up ‘cause ITS A LONG ONE AGAIN. Got carried away as usual so it’ll be in two parts. K BYE <3 - Nova

Hyunsuk

realizing it

it doesn’t take much to make Hyunsuk like you

but to actually fall in love with you

that’s a different story

he’s alone at the studio, trying to get his verse right

every time he fixes something he didn’t like, he notices something else

he’s sat at his desk, elbows next to the keyboard

head hanging down with his fingers tangled in his hair

a sharp inhale

a shaky exhale

then his phone lights up, a message from you, asking if he’s home yet and how his day went

2.30am, he reads

he starts typing, frantically, on and on as the chaos in his head makes it’s way onto his phonescreen

only for him to stop and delete it all because he knows what he really wants to send you

but it’s too late and he doesn’t want to be a burden, you need your sleep too

when he looks up and sees his own reflection in the, now dimly lit, screen of his computer

another sharp inhale

‘Not so great to be honest, can I come to your place?’ sent.

on the way to your house he’s still thinking about turning back

but all those thoughts are long gone the moment you open the door

your eyes beaming at him, messy bun wiggling side to side and you’re wrapped up in a blanket

his heart melts as he feels the tightness in his temples and neck from the stress subside

‘Hi- I missed you.’

you probably didn’t notice but he almost said something else

he snickers to himself, that would’ve been a bit early

saying it

definitely the type to say it without realizing what he’s saying

you two are getting groceries

which, even though it’s not a special thing, is always so much fun

this time you ended up playing hide and seek

it wasn’t really discussed, you just lost Hyunsuk at one point and decided to turn it into a game instead of calling him

which means it’s your turn now

it had been over 20 minutes and he was getting worried

very impressed with your skills

but worried

in the end he decided to call you

to his surprise he hears your ringtone behind him

he turns around

the ringtone is still behind him

he turns around

what the-

he turns around but really fast this time

his eyes meet yours a second before you start dying from laughter

‘How long where you doing that for-?’ he laughed in self-pity and disbelieve

when he finds out you never left he sighs

‘Ugh- I love you.’ he mutters inbetween chuckling

for a second he freezes, a thousand things running through his mind

but y’know what? fuck it.

‘Yea- it’s true. I love you.’

Jihoon

realizing it

also seems like someone who does not fall in love quickly

mostly because he’s not looking for it, he doesn’t feel the need to be in love to be happy

but once he does

oh boy

so when you came in his life he wasn’t thinking about a potential relationship

or wondering if you two would be compatible

he simply enjoyed your presence and you two got closer as friends

because of this the moment he realizes he has feelings for you will be overwhelming for him

wasn’t ready

you weren’t even doing anything different than usual

just eating in the yg cafetaria, both rambling about things

subjects that made people walking by look up because they didn’t get the full story

out of nowhere he fell hard

the mechanism that’s supposed to be his brain malfunctioning

croissant in mid-air

it all just made sense

the reason why he could never be sad around you

the reason that made your eyes twinkle more than anyone elses

the reason you saying his name sounds different than when anyone else says it

the reason he’s now sitting with his mouth wide open staring at you without really looking at you

‘Y-yea, I was listening. Ofcourse I was.’

saying it

probably says it on a special occasion

not planned or anything

it just seemed fitting in that moment

he realized before you two were even dating so it’s not like there’s any doubt left

still, expressing it feels like a very big step

it was quite a warm autumn evening

you were sitting on the floor at the salon table

filled with food from different places

‘I’m so proud of us.’ he beamed

you had just finished a very important essay which is going to be a great advantage when looking for an internship

he had just ended filming their third music video

‘I wish I could show you, you’re gonna love it.’ he mumbled before grabbing another bite

it looked like a feast but takeout-style

you continue eating, enjoying each others company

all the windows were open because of the nice weather

a soft breeze would ruffle the curtains

the subtle sound mixing well with the music

Jihoon had looked for just the right playlist for almost half an hour

and it couldn’t have been more perfect

the warm light of the candles was accompanied by a desklight

you got it out of your room because the ceiling light wasn’t cozy but the candles weren’t enough to see each other’s face (or the food)

the topic slowly drifts to more nostalgic memories

dates to the beach, your weekend in Japan, meeting his friends

‘You know what’s funny? out of all of those memories the one that is most special to me was a really simple one.’ something in his expression changed and you sat calmly, waiting for him to continue

‘It was a few days before I asked you out on our first date. We were at yg, eating something.’ he grabbed another bite of food, chuckling at your impatient response

‘I don’t know what it was but out of nowhere I realized I was in love with you.’ the words came out while he looked at his plate, looking up only a second before he continued

‘I still do. I love you-, even more each day.’

Yoshi

realizing it

there’s not really a specific moment where it hit him

his love for you grew gradually

which is exactly how he liked it

from the moment he met you he was never nervous around you

he never felt like he wasn’t good enough or like he had to try harder

everything made sense from day one

there would be moments where is heart could burst from it

like the time you tried to fix his broken jeans with a youtube tutorial

or when you first fell asleep on his chest

the worst was when he couldn’t see you for a few days

as if the love in him grew and grew but he couldn’t give it to you

he just felt like he was going to explode sometimes

the other boys would notice very easily

‘I know it’s only a few days, you guys are right.’

his mind didn’t listen to his own words

‘I’m fine- I promise.’

but if it’s a few more hours he might not be

he would go to bed quite early these days

after he noticed that trying to distract himself wasn’t working

he’d scroll through photo’s you took together

and photo’s he took of you

he’d sent you another text, hoping your phone was off so he wouldn’t wake you up

a strange mix of happiness and sadness

luckily once he realizes his sadness is temporary and it only shows how special you are to him he’ll be able to focus on the happiness

thinking about all the memories you’ve made and will make in the future as he slowly drifts to sleep

saying it

finally

finally he was going to see you again

it was only like three days but boy was he DEPRIVED

he was the first done packing

the first in the car

the first to run into the dorm and put his bag away

aaaand the first to run out the door again

you two had been texting all day about movies to watch and all the stories he wanted to tell

his knee bumped up and down in the bus

he couldn’t remember the last time he was this hyped

only three more stops

he gazed out the window chuckling at himself

who would’ve thought someone could make him feel like this?

his hand clutched on to the souvenir he got you

two more stops

an old couple got in

yoshi always had a weakness for happy old couple

but now especially

he smiled politely at them

admiring how in love they looked

that would be you in the future, he thought to himself

one more stop

his smile was still on his face

recognizing restaurants you two went to

clothing stores where you complimented his style

and then

the bus stop

it’s the one where you two met

he still can’t believe he managed to strike up a conversation with you that day

but it must’ve been meant to be

he looked around frantically as soon as his foot hit the sidewalk

the sound of your shoes on the floor came closer

he turned to face the sound and before he could even see your face he was holding you in his arms again

tightly as if to tell the world you were his

a deep sigh left his mouth before he mumbled into your hair

‘I love you- I missed you so much. I’m so happy to see you.’

Junkyu

realizing it

‘stop being weird-’ ‘says who?’

you and Junkyu were laying on his bed

both with your limbs spread out, staring at the ceiling

you weren’t sure how long you’d been there

he hummed along to the song you just put on

before being interrupted by the sound of his own stomach

‘Oh wow- sounds like it’s time for lunch.’ 

you nodded in agreement as you grabbed your phone

he started thinking about what to get, watching you tap away on your phone

your hair was laying in a circle around your head

a shadow from the ceilinglight behind your phone over your eyes

he noticed how you pupils dilated as they adjusted to the light everytime your moved your phone a bit

your eyes are cool af, woah

he turned to his side, still looking at your features while you scrolled on your phone

the song changed and this time it was you humming along

your voice is so nice, he thought to himself

his dreamy moment was interrupted by you looking at him

oh right- food

‘Uh- I want uh-..’

to his surprise you tell him you already ordered

‘What- what about me?’

you listed the things you ordered for him, saying how you definitely knew what he wanted by now

he was shocked

if you aren’t the SWEETEST MOST THOUGHTFUL HUMAN BEING

then he wouldn’t know who is

his dreamy moment continued, even though you were staring right back this time, confused

he never felt like this before

like he wants to fast-forward and sit in a rocking chair with you, grumbling about youth

wait

fuck

this is love isn’t it?

saying it

he promised

he promised he wasn’t going to fall asleep during the movie

but look at him now

soft deep breathing, lips slightly parted as he was laying against you

even though you didn’t want to wake him up you had already seen this movie with friends and the remote was all the way on the table

you reached forward in slow motion

slowly

sloooooowly

Junkyu moved, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder before mumbling under his breath and laying still again

that was close

the journey continues

slooooooooooowly

you were only 10cm away from reaching the remote

‘N-no hh.. stay h- ple ase.’

a dilemma

lean forward a bit more or sit back and just let the man sleep?

bit more

sloooooooooooooooowly

your fingertips grazed the remote and it wobble side to side

‘Babe?-’ that definitely sounded more awake then earlier

but when you look at him you see he’s definitely not fully awake yet

‘Come back to beeed-’ he whined

bed? boy, we’re on the couch

you didn’t mention it and instead quickly grabbed the remote before you sat back down a little faster

‘Th-nk yo-’ he held you tighter

‘Love you-’

wait what?

Mashiho

realizing it

seems like a hopeless romantic to me

so might realize quite fast

this man has been fantasizing and imagining his future love life for so long

not to the point where he’s yanking flowers apart to find out if you love him or not

but he sees the beauty in so many things

enjoys the warmth of the sun on his skin

likes to watch people going about their day and thinking what their life is like

leaves sweet notes on receipts for hardworking employees to find when they come clean his table

little things but a lot of things

he has an eye for beauty and knows exactly how to use it for his own happiness

so he quickly noticed how happy you made him

it was again, the little things

but so so many

how your pinky finger was always a little higher than the rest when your hands were relaxed

how the cute baby hairs on the back of your neck would always leave your ponytail within minutes of putting your hair up

how your foot would bounce up and down when you sat with your legs crossed, even if there was no music

how every time you called him cute he had to keep himself from calling you cute because he knew you’d hide your face in your hands right after

the way you sat against the mirror when you came to watch him practice

sleeves of his sweater to long for your arms as you clapped after each song

loving you wasn’t something that happens at one point

it’s built within him since the moment you met

it just grows and grows as you take care of it with your cuteness and love

saying it

so much snow

everywhere

the snowflakes were most visible under the light of the streetlanterns

appearing and disappearing as they went back into the dark nightsky

the crisp sound from under your shoes was relaxing

you and Mashiho had a snowballfight after finishing about 20 snowangels each

it had gotten dark before you knew it so now you were walking home

his arm around your shoulder, rubbing softly to keep you warm

you felt the cold water through your gloves but sharing bodyheat was all you needed

both of you had soft smiles on your faces, walking in content silence

and you were also just EXHAUSTED so the quiet evening was a nice change

in some of the houses you walked by you could already see christmaslights and trees

he noticed you looking

‘Lets get our own decorations soon.’ 

you nodded happily, leaning against him a little more

this was going to be your first christmas together

you never expected to celebrate it with someone this year

the idea of setting up a tree together and the coziness it would bring made him feel warm inside

you discussed fun things you could do for christmas

ways to surprise the boys or what you wanted to eat

he listened to you talk about memories and future plans

when he noticed how clearly he was already involved in those future plans he couldn’t help himself

‘Hey-’ he gave your shoulder a squeeze to make you look at him

‘I love you, so so much-‘

Jaehyuk

realising it

it was the first time you were going to meet the rest of Jaehyuk’s group

a little nervous but mostly excited you walked to the front door

he told you to text him when you got there so he could see you before the rest did

a few second after you saw he read your message the door opens

you get a kiss on the lips, a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead all after each other

he wanted to show you love but also wanted to mentally prepare you for what was about to him

don’t get him wrong, he loves the other members with all his heart but he could imagine them being a little.... overwhelming.

before he could even ask you if you were nervous the yells from the living room began

curious heads peeking out from behind his back, 11 hands reaching out to you as they all wanted to introduce themselves first

you could make out some teasing to Jae followed by someone’s voice trying to keep the peace

he looked at you with slight worry in his face, only to be greeted by a cheerful smile

before he knew it you were bashing out jokes left and right

even standing up for him a few times in the funniest ways

he couldn’t be happier

so many people he loved in one room

one in particular though

he took a moment to sit back against the couch and look around in awe

so happy

after a few hours and some good food it was time for you to go home

he watched you end your conversation with Asahi

who, to his surprise, seemed like he didn’t want the conversation to end

you waved goodbye to everyone and got loads of no’s and why’s in return

‘It’s late guys, she still has to go home.’

saying it

you still heard the whining when you and Jae reached the front door

you talked a few more minutes about how much you enjoyed yourself and the funny and awkward moments you two noticed

‘Apparently you don’t only make me happy but my friends too.’

you beamed at the compliment

even though you enjoyed the night as well, the validation that they did too meant a lot to you

‘So I’ve been approved?’ ‘Clearly.’

he insisted on walking you home 

you discussed the evening even more

he explained more about their personalities and memories he has with them which now made so much sense to you

your fingers were intertwined, arms swinging back and forth playfully

for some reason he felt a lump in his throat

but he couldn’t quite figure out why

it even distracted him from your conversation a few times

which is very unlike him so you noticed quickly

when you stopped walking to ask him what was wrong

looking him in the eye to show you you were not taking nothing for an answer

the determined look in your eyes made him realize what it was

what he had been holding back

but he didn’t say it

not yet

after a few minutes you reached your frontdoor

‘Thank you for the great evening, I’m sure they’ll want you back as soon as possible.’

he leaned in for a goodnight’s kiss, holding you close a little tighter than usual

for a second he pulled back

‘I love you-’

before connecting your lips again

#this took me forever but I'm pretty happy with it #hope you all enjoy! #treasure #treasure reaction #treasure scenario #yg #ygtb #hyunsuk #jihoon #yoshi #junkyu #mashiho #jaehyuk #kpop