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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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toastedside · 3 years

Text

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

=======================================

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

====================================

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

==================================

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?”

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite #bucky series #tfatws x reader

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours- Ch. 7

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Words: 1685

Warnings: Dumb Steve, angst

Summary: You and Steve have a movie night that does not end like you would expect.

A/N: I need to give very special thanks to @river-soul for helping me with this chapter so much. Seriously thank you. I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @sagechanoafterdark @bestofbucky @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @libbymouse if you want to be added to my tag list please send me an ask or DM.

You finally had a three-day weekend which meant some time to yourself. Well, yourself and Steve and Bucky for your Friday movie night. Connor had an intense case in progress and was staying at his apartment which gave you a little bit of freedom to do what you wanted.

Ever since your dinner party, Connor had continued to voice his concern about the amount of time you spent with Steve. The dinner party was supposed to show him he had nothing to worry about but it had the opposite effect. He thought Steve was too handsy with you and it made him uncomfortable. You knew you had to bring it up to Steve, Connor was your boyfriend you didn’t want to upset him.

You had just finished setting out the plates when you heard the door swing shut.

“Hey, guys! In here, I have the food ready,” You shouted from the tv room.

You looked up and noticed Bucky wasn’t with Steve.

“Wasn’t Bucky gonna come tonight? I have that weird sci-fi movie he’s been dying to watch queued up.”

“You know I’m starting to think you like him more than me.” Steve gave a soft smile. “He has a date. It’s just you and me. Like old times, doll.”

A slow smile started to spread across your face. You pulled him into a hug and breathed in his warm comforting scent. You always loved how close he held you, like you were the most precious thing he ever had in his arms. Shaking the thought out of your head you pulled away.

“That’s fine by me Cap. We can pick a good movie this time.” You winked at him and settled on the couch.

Steve sat next to you and fidgeted with his hands. You passed him a plate of pizza and narrowed your eyes.

“Everything alright?” You asked cautiously.

He looked at you warily. “Sweetheart I want to talk to you about the dinner party last week.”

You rolled your eyes at his insistence and felt your shoulders tense. He had already talked to you in the kitchen at the party. What more could he have to say about your relationship with Connor?

“What more is there to talk about Steve? You said plenty at the party.”

“I know, but something seemed off. I didn’t know if you were just putting on an act or something.” Steve reasoned. “I thought if I came here alone you might open up a bit more.”

“An act? You think the dinner party was what? A performance?” You spat and stood up. “I have been nothing but honest with you since we’ve met. Have I ever given you an instance not to trust me?”

Steve blinked at you, mouth agape. “Doll, I didn’t say any of that. Of course I trust you, I just don’t think Connor is right for you.”

You sucked in a breath and slowly let it out.

“I don’t need you coming into my house and attacking my relationship,” you started when Steve cut you off.

“I am not attacking your-” you put up your hand and Steve shut his mouth quickly.

“My relationship with Connor is fine. Have you ever thrown a dinner party before? It’s stressful! You have to take so many things into consideration from allergies to food preferences and it’s exhausting. Plus after the fight Connor and I had, I thought the roast would be a peace offering and I ruined it.” You let out a shaky breath.

“You and Connor fought? About what?” Steve pressed.

You looked up at Steve teary-eyed and sighed. “You.”

“Me?” Steve asked, surprised.

“He thinks you’re in love with me or something.” You paused, taking in a cleansing breath. “He doesn’t want me hanging out with you anymore.”

You saw Steve’s jaw tense and his hands clench into fists.

“Sweetheart, are you telling me you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

You looked back at him stunned.

“Steve. I would never let anyone tell me who I can and cannot be friends with. That’s what the fight was about. I thought inviting you to the dinner party would show him he had nothing to worry about.” You ran a hand over your face. “He thought you were too handsy with me. It made him uncomfortable.”

Your voice was just above a whisper. Steve placed his hands on your shoulders causing you to look up at him. His eyes were glassy and his nostrils flared.

“I think Connor is being a bit too controlling. We’ve always been this way and I don’t think you’re seeing clearly.” Steve drew in a breath. “I don’t think Connor is right for you and I can help you if you’re scared.”

You pushed him off of you as you felt anger coarse through your veins.

“Who do you think you are Steve? Do you think I’m the type of person who needs saving? Am I that weak to you? You don’t think Connor is right for me? Why?”

Steve started sputtering a response and you held up your hand.

“Here’s what I’m seeing Cap. You almost kiss me and then tell me you want to just be friends. Then when I get a boyfriend and find someone who actually puts me first and cares about me in a way that not even my family has, you tell me you don’t trust him? You don’t even know him. You two haven’t spent more than an hour together since we started dating. Tell me, Steve, what exactly do you want from me?”

You looked at Steve and watched him wipe the tears off his face. You shook your head and huffed.

“Steve when you almost kissed me in that warehouse, I was ready to be with you. When you said you didn’t want that I understood and moved on.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Steve said.

“Yeah? You have a funny way of showing it.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You know what Steve, maybe you should go.”

Steve let out an annoyed huff. “Are you seriously mad at me for trying to protect you? For doing what is best for you?”

“Steve, I think you should leave before we say something we might regret.”

Steve looked at you for a moment before leaving and slamming the door.

The next day you went to breakfast with Connor and told him what happened, leaving out a few of the more heart wrenching details.

“So he left. He’s been texting me, trying to apologize but I’m just so mad.” You placed your head in your hands as Connor rubbed your back.

“He just doesn’t understand what being in a partnership is like. It’s probably for the best that you don’t see him for a while.”

You looked at Connor with your mouth agape. “Connor it’s just a fight, he’s still my best friend.”

Connor scoffed. “A friend who doesn’t respect you’re in a committed relationship?”

You glared at Connor. “He respects me. He’s just dumb.”

Connor laughed. “Well you got me there,” he grabbed your hands. “Darling there is something I need to talk to you about.”

You chuckled. “Something other than what we were just discussing?”

“Yes,” his voice was serious and you straightened up. “I got a job offer. In Chicago. I want you to come with me.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Connor, I can’t. My life is here. What would I do in Chicago?”

“You’d be with me. I would take care of you. You’ve been at the prosecutor’s office for a few months and that job tends to have a lot of turnover anyway. Your family isn’t around and you don’t talk to them as it is. So tell me, what life is here?”

You knew your answer. You had Steve here but you hesitated to say that to Connor knowing how he felt about him. Connor noticed and shifted, placing a velvet box on the table.

“I want you to come to Chicago with me as my wife,” he said firmly. “You wouldn’t have to work, the job pays enough to support both of us. We could start our own family.”

You gasped and tears flooded your eyes.

“Connor…. this is too much too soon. I don’t know-”

“Take the ring. Sleep on it. I have to go, I have court in a few hours and I have to prep.” He got up and gave you a peck on the cheek. “I love you. I’ll make sure you’re happy.”

He left without a word from you. You finished your breakfast in stunned silence, looking at the velvet box on the table. It felt surreal, this wasn’t how you wanted your life to play out but this was how it was happening. You needed to talk about this with someone and there was no doubt in your mind who you would call. You picked up your phone and dialed the first number.

You drew in a breath already knowing your voice was going to betray you. The call went to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me, Sparky.” You took in a shuddering breath. “Listen something happened and, um, I just need you to come over tonight. Seven, please. I just need you to be there.”

You hung up and dialed a second number, also getting voicemail.

“Hey, Steve. I know you’ve been texting me and I just.” You paused, letting out a sob. “I just need you to come over. Please 7:30 tonight. I’m okay but something happened and I need you. You promised you would always be there for me. Be there. Please.”

You hung up and reached for the velvet box. Opening it you found a large square cut solitaire diamond with a yellow gold band. It must have cost a small fortune judging by the size. It wasn’t you at all, and when you tried it on it didn’t fit. It was an easy fix and you reminded yourself that, just because something doesn’t fit right at the moment, didn’t mean it couldn’t be adjusted to fit in the future.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers series #just say it and i'm yours

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avenging-criminal-bones · 3 years

Text

Claustrophobic

Spencer x Reader

Requested?: YES

Word Count: 2264

Warnings: Mentions of unsub, guns, violence, hurt/comfort, panic attack

A/N: SORRY! I kind of got carried away with the prompt from anon

* * * * *

If there was one thing that no one on the team knew about you, it was your extreme claustrophobia. Small spaces, dark corners, the whole nine-yards would set your off in a heartbeat. Especially if you had to share the space with someone else.

No one knows. Not even Spencer.

Who you’ve been dating.

For almost a year.

It stemmed from your childhood. Your parents had both died in a house fire when you were young, seven, to be exact. So when they were no longer there to take care of you, your uncle took you in and raised you as if you were already a trouble maker.

There was a closet in your uncle’s house about four feet high and three feet by three feet as the interior. Relatively small. Whenever you needed to be punished of have anything done, you were locked in the closet. Some nights, he would be so wasted or hyped up on weed that he’d forget about you in there, leaving you overnight to fend for your food and bathroom situation.

For eleven years that was the only form of correction that he’d give you, until you left. You got out of there as soon as you were eighteen.

Which is why the current case put you in a sort of predicament. You aren’t in any sort of danger, at least not immediately, but the unsub had capture you and Spencer. He locked the both of you in a dark metal box. It must have been an old shipping container, since you’d chased the perpetrator into an abandoned warehouse.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was rough. The two of you had been drugged, just now waking up from the chloroform-induced sleep. In passing, you wondered if this was going to react badly with Spencer’s previous, forced-drug abuse. “Are you in here?”

“Y-Yeah. Spence... where-”

“I don’t know.”

You feel him shift beside you, not being able to see him due to the pitch blackness of the storage container. A moment later you feel a presence directly beside you and jump slightly. “Wh-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Just my hand. I’m trying to gauge how wide this box is.” His voice sounds much too composed for the current situation. “Judging by the fact that I’m six foot one and my wingspan is about that same length, combined with the unfortunate reality that about three feet of my arms cannot stretch out, I’m going to guess that we are in a three by three foot container. The metallic sounds of my nails hitting the wall,” he drums his fingers a bit to show you, “means that this is a thicker metal, which translates to: no phone service.” He pauses for a second and hears the sound of your whimpering from directly in front of him. “Y/N?”

Your anxieties have been building up since you had come to your senses just a few moments before Spencer. You didn’t want to think about the fact that you were stuck in a small, dark, damp container, much like the closet from your childhood. You didn’t want to think about how you and Spencer had a shared, limited amount of air. You didn’t want to face that reality, but Spencer wouldn’t stop talking.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer grabbed your hand, but you jerked away quickly, hyperventilating as your thoughts raced in your head.

“I-No. I c-can’t. Spence- I can’t b-breathe. Please. Oh my- I can’t. I can’t.” Your words stutter out and they’re progressively getting more desperate.

Spencer’s eyes furrow and he shakes his head, not that you could see the confusion written in his body language though in the darkness.

“Y/N. We’re not running out of oxygen yet,” your breathing still came out in sharp pants, not relaxing by his words. “Judging by the burning alcoholic smell in my nose, and the fact that we woke up about seven minutes ago, lack of oxygen in this container, which has an area of 27 inches times three,” he works through the math in his head for a moment, “won’t be a concern for another 113 minutes.”

“No, no, no...” You whimper to yourself, murmuring no in hopes that your denial can magically open the container. “NO! I c-can’t- It’s not- Spence- it’s small... there’s no- I can’t...”

You interrupt yourself with quiet sobs, willing Spencer to understand what your problem is so you don’t have to try and explain it in your state.

“Y/N? Are you- is this claustrophobia?” His voice is soft, trailing off at the end. He knows that panic attacks are a consistent sign of things like phobias and mental health disorders, but you’d never given him a reason to associate it to you.

You nod your head, forgetting that he can’t see you until he repeats your name to try and prompt an answer.

“Y-yes. I know. It’s dumb- I just... I can’t. Spence- It’s not. I just need- I can’t breathe.”

Spencer lowers his voice to a gentle lull, being careful not to startle you as he talks. “Y/N, I’m going to approach you. I’m going to rest my hand on your face, and I’m going to grab your right hand with my left, okay?”

Again, you nod first before answering him vocally, “Yeah, yes.”

Spencer’s shoulders droop slightly, hearing the hitching in your voice mixed with the relief that you’ll let him help you. You feel a shift in the container as he switched from sitting to kneeling in front of you. He does exactly what he said he would and slowly, you sense him getting closer to you. After a moment of that, your chest heaves, your brain not allowing you to get a full breath in before it thinks you’re being attacked. His hand rests on your face then and he gently puts pressure on the back of your neck, alternating pressures with each of his fingers individually.

“Can you feel me?” He asks gently, cooing into your ear in an attempt to calm you down.

Not having words, you just shake your head. You don’t. You know that it’s there, but right now everything is just too much. There’s too much in your head, too many distractions running through your brain.

Spencer reaches forward with his other hand and grabs your right hand like he said that he was going to. He places your hand over his heart, leaving his hand there when he did.

“Y/N, you’re okay. We’re okay. I promise.”

It broke his heart to see you shattering like this. Something that Spencer had admired so, so much in you before you started dating was your fearlessness. Now it seemed like that was being torn away from you.

Spencer rested his forehead against yours and sighed to himself as he kept his ministrations going on the back of your neck.

Your breath hitched as you started to calm down. The hand on his chest clutched his once-nice shirt in your hand. It was wrinkled from the vice-like grip, but Spencer wouldn’t have cared. He just wants you to be okay.

“S-Spencer, I can’t... I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, I can’t-” Your desperate words devolved into short pants, strangled whines as you doubled over yourself, trying to find something to anchor yourself to.

“Y/N! Hey, hey, hey. Y/N it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, I promise.” Spencer didn’t know what to do. His heart was breaking for you; he hated the way you were shaking so badly, and sobbing so openly.

You sat there a few minutes with Spencer trying to calm you down. Eventually, your breathing calmed to quiet pants and hitches, and you subconsciously leaned into his hand that was cradling your face.

You were stilled curled up, still in no position to open your eyes and look around.

“... ‘m sorry, Spence...” You were exhausted now. There was no way you’d be able to stay awake much longer.

“Y/N? Why are you apologizing? It’s okay to have fears. It’s okay to have crippling panic attacks. Did you know, at my niece’s birthday party last year she had a clown come?” He pauses for a second, not really expecting you to answer yet. He continues, “ Anyways, I’m deathly afraid of clowns. And this guy popped up behind me to surprise all of the children. Long story short, I had to leave early because I punched the guy in the face.”

For the first time since you two had been captured, you huffed out a short laugh. Breathlessly, you asked, “You punched a birthday clown? Oh my God, Spence.”

Spencer’s shoulders finally dropped, the tension releasing as he saw that you were slowly getting better. “Yeah, it was a catastrophe in itself.”

Reaching over, you grabbed Spencer’s hand off of his chest and held it close to your face. You snuggled up to him, ignoring the fact that he is your co-worker and this is wrong.

“Spencer?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh slightly before asking your question. “Is the team going to come for us?”

“Oh, sweetheart... Of course. Yes. They will come for us.”

Spencer squeezed your hand in an attempt at reassurance. He could tell that your eyelids were drooping and that you were fighting to stay awake after your panic attack.

“Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll wake you up when you need to be alert, okay?” His voice is soft as he speaks to you.

Your eyes were finally closing, you hadn’t even responded to his request before you were drifting.

The sound of gun shots hitting the side of the container wakes you up quickly, jerking you out of your sleeping state.

“Spencer?!” You exclaim, sitting up fast as you tried to adjust to the darkness to look at your teammate.

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His hand finds yours again and he subtly tugs your closer to him, trying to keep you out of harms way of a stray bullet.

More gunshots follow, the sound of them hitting the space around you too loud, causing you to throw your hands over your ears.

You only pull them away when you feel a hard flinch from beside you. From Spencer.

“Spencer..? Spence?” You flip around fast, seeing his pained face.

You can see him.

You shouldn’t be able to see him. You were in an enclosed space... A box... No windows.

Except for the inch-wide hole right in front of Spencer.

The whole from the bullet.

That was lodged in his arm.

Spencer’s arm.

“No... No, no, no. NO!” Without thinking, you press against the wound in his shoulder. Too close to his clavicle. Too close to him. It’s second nature to you, but even so, you whisper sorries to him ever minute for causing him pain.

Distantly, you notice that the gunfire had died down. The only sounds now were your dry sobs and Spencer’s labored breathing. His pained groans. Because he was shot.

“Spencer, please. Please, please stay with me. Stay with me damn it. Spence!” You can’t even tell what you were saying anymore, you just knew that you were stringing pleas from your lips to your boyfriend.

His blood was all over your hands, spilling onto the ground. He was shaking as he reached up to grab your arm.

“Y/N... It’s okay. I’m- It’s fine.” You chose to ignore how he didn’t say that he was fine. “It’s okay. Do you h-hear that? It’s Hotch and JJ. I’m okay.”

Suddenly, you feel even worse about the anxieties from a few hours ago. Compared to this, it seemed even less important and relevant than it had then.

“I don’t... I don’t-” You break off, covering your mouth to keep in a louder sob. Thinking, you realize that if he wants to think that the help is here, then you need to let him. In the chance that he doesn’t-

NO. You will not think about that.

“Yeah, Spence. I hear them. They’re rounding the corner now.”

Your tears fall openly now, with Spencer holding your hand and the dim light from the middle of the day shining through that small hole. That tiny hole that might have decided your boyfriend’s fate.

Sure enough though, your boss runs into view of the hole and you almost let out a sob of relief. Keeping the pressure on Spencer’s shoulder, you feel him tense beneath you. “Stay awake, Reid. You stay awake. Hear me?”

He nods his head weakly just as Hotch opens the lid. Immediately, you stand up and he helps you up before sending medics in to help Spencer. As soon as you’re out of the confinements, you collapse to the ground, the reality of the situation finally hitting you.

You knew you’d have to tell the team about your claustrophobia when it was reported in the debrief, but for now, you didn’t have any worries other than Spencer.

You knew he was going to be okay as soon as you sat in the back of the ambulance with him and he started spewing off facts about the likelihood of a gunshot wound to the left arm below any arteries was to do any serious damage. According to him, the number was low, so you knew that if he slept it off and got the bullet removed in time, he would be just fine.

Silently, you mouth ‘I love you’ to Reid, him already knowing it was coming. He said it back before falling into a deep, adrenaline-crash sleep, you tucking your head right next to him and doing the same thing, hoping for a better tomorrow.

#angst #whump #hurt/comfort #spencer reid #spence #spencer x reader #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #fluff #claustrophobia #guns #gunshot #unsub #hotch #aaron hotchner #jj #jennifer jareau

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

EPILOGUE: A HOUSE DIVIDED

Word Count: 1451 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Content Warnings: swearing, references to violence (canon-typical), heavy angst Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Darkness Falls || Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me, read, reblogged, commented, messaged. I don’t know where I’d be without all of you (probably still back at chapter 3). While this is the end of Light Fingers, it is not the end of the story. I just need to take a little time and approach canon with care.

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A week of radio silence followed that night. As the days went by, you tried your best to return to your normal, to waiting tables and bantering with kitchen staff and trying to pretend you weren’t holding yourself together by a thread.

Something immediately felt off as you entered the apartment one night after a double shift and dropped your keys by the door. Conjuring enough light to see and no more, you began creeping through the room. It didn't take long to see that all of Diego's things were gone - except Duncan, the dog snoozing blissfully on the couch. You weren’t surprised. After all, if he’d wanted to put things back together, or thought you could, he would have reached out before now. So instead he had quickly and quietly removed his presence from your apartment, and very likely walked out of your life without a word. The thought stung, that for all you had intertwined your lives, he was still able to remove himself in a day.

The light on your answering machine was blinking, and numbly you hit the button and listened to Patch’s message.

“Thank you for finally returning my call,” Eudora said exasperatedly, as she took a seat across from you in the little cafe the following Sunday.

“Sorry Dora,” you offered her a sheepish and regretful half-smile. “I haven’t really felt like seeing anyone lately. Besides, I didn’t want to put you in an awkward place. I know you and Diego were, are…”

“Close? The three of us all were. Why do you think I’ve been trying to reach you?”

You looked down, tracing the wood grains of the tabletop. “There’s no fixing this one, Dora. We’re...too far gone.”

“How? You two were good for each other. A blind man could see it.”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“We both know that’s bullshit, Y/N.”

“I...made a choice. One Diego couldn’t agree with. We fought about it. And when he decided to walk out, I not only let him, I practically packed his bags. And in the end it turned out to be pointless anyway.”

Yesterday’s paper had contained an article about how the investigation into Reginald had been dropped for lack of foundation, and he’d been able to collect a substantial insurance payout for the warehouse, and the feds had offered an official statement of apology on top of everything else. You had scared a local alley cat with the tantrum that had followed reading that. Because of course, trying to take him down had cost you everything and he’d still won in the end. How else could it have gone?

“Why do I bother,” Eudora sighed with a frustrated gesture. “I should have known you’d be just as cryptic as he was.”

“It’s complicated, Dora, so it’s easier than trying to explain and sounding completely nuts. I wish I could tell you. But the details don’t really matter, just that I fucked up, big time, and I can’t undo it.”

She reached across the table to take one of your fidgeting hands in her own. “Y/N. Listen to me. I know you and I know Diego. It’s not too late for the two of you. I can tell how much you both still care.”

“It’s not about that,” you struggled to keep back your tears. “We just weren’t meant to be. Forcing it will only break things worse.”

You winced, the words sounding harsh and a little bit fake. But they were true, or at least that’s what you wanted to convince yourself of so that you could move on.

“Besides, he came by when I was at work and took all his stuff. Doesn’t that pretty much scream final?”

“I’ve talked to him, Y/N. I’ve seen him. He’s really messed up. And I don't think he's eating much or sleeping at all if I'm being honest.”

“Why are you telling me this?” your voice trembled, heart breaking with every word.

“You could find him, probably at the Lion,” she fixed you with a look and tilted her head to one side. “You could talk to him.”

You shook your head. “There's nothing left to say.”

“You're really giving up that easily?”

You wanted to scream, or to somehow explain that it was anything but easy. But that it was the right thing to do. For Diego’s sake. He, and she, would understand someday, you had to believe that.

“Eudora, please.”

“Fine. If neither of you is going to fight for this, I guess I should just deliver you his message.”

Despite yourself, your heart leapt at the idea Diego actually had something left to say. And then it plummeted a moment later when you realized that whatever it was, he couldn’t say himself, he had to ask your mutual best friend to do it for him.

“I’m sorry, that you’re stuck in the middle. You don’t...have to be our carrier pigeon. If you don’t want to,” you said sheepishly, shrugging slightly.

“If I don’t, you wouldn’t communicate at all.”

“That might--”

“If you say it’s for the best, I will walk out,” Eudora snapped, making you reel back in shock. “I hate the cryptic non-answers, but at least it’s not full-on lying to me. So don’t start.”

You swallowed down whatever you were going to say and sighed. “You said you had a message from Diego?”

“He asked me to give you these,” she laid a set of keys on the table. “Said the apartment was your home and he’d never dream of trying to take it in whatever divorce papers you end up filing. And that he picked up his things, which I know you saw. Anything he left behind, he said, is not important.”

You looked down at the keys, letting some of the tears you’d fought so hard against fall.

‘He left me behind,’ you wanted to say. ‘He left us.’ But that wouldn’t be fair, or help anything, so you bit your tongue.

“Y/N,” she sounded apologetic but you could tell she no more knew the words to say than you did. Instead after a moment, she carried on. “He also said that a gym is no place for a boxer, which I think was him trying to make a joke, and that at least if you keep Duncan, he’ll know there’s someone watching your back and making sure you come home.”

You couldn’t help your snort of disbelief or the bitter tone of your response. “As if I’m the one to worry about there, not him with his stupid vigilante crime-fighting bullshit. I only ever got involved in that because of him, for him.” Somehow, that was the thing that opened the floodgates and you began to cry in earnest. “Fuck, Dora. He’s going to get himself killed someday.”

She reached over to take your hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze. Silence reigned over you for a few minutes, while she let you cry it out and offered you quiet support.

“He won’t,” she said, eventually. “We both know he’s careful, and insanely lucky. And…” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to leave him completely on his own. I’m in line for an early promotion, and then I’ll be able to have people looking out for him.”

You offered her a watery smile, almost laughing. “I don’t know what I’d do, or either of us would, without you.”

She shrugged. “Good thing you won’t ever find out.”

The rest of the conversation flowed naturally, as it always did, or nearly so. After a few stinted failures to start, you carried on as if it was any other coffee date. As you were paying your bills, the light caught the silver band still on your finger. You bit your lip, slowly sliding it off, its weight heavy in your palm despite how slim, how small it was.

“Eudora, can I ask one more favor?” you asked hesitantly.

“Of course, Y/N. What are friends for?” she said, offering you a smile.

You held the ring out to her. “Can you give this to Diego for me? And tell him that I’m sorry. And I still love him. No, actually, don’t tell him that. Just...that he should have this back, and I hope that maybe someday, I can be the person he saw who deserved it. Or something like that. I don’t know. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” You shook your head, swiping at more tears that were threatening to spill.

She flashed you a sympathetic half-smile. “I’ll give him your message.”

Your fingers shook as you passed the ring over to her, a heavy weight of true finality settling over you.

#The End #for added angst listen to 'Erased' by Vixy and Tony #seriously though #I know this ends on a sad note but it's only...season 0 and we'll get to 1 and 2.#not that things will be totally rosy there either #Light Fingers #Diego Hargreeves x reader #The Umbrella Academy fic

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter four: cham-pain

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

A/N: hey, you. yes, YOU. has anyone told you that you’re pretty today? well, if not let me be the first. i can’t help but feel lovey-dovey about the love you guys have shown me on this story. thank you so much for everything. i hope you like this chapter and i hope you’ll reach out and let me know either way. big shoutout to the baes @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland they know why.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

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

At what point do you stop calling them shorts and start calling them panties?

That’s the question Hoseok ponders when he walks into the kitchen to find you precariously perched on tiptoes, straining to reach for something in an overhead cabinet. He lets his gaze linger over the soft skin of your legs, up to your thighs, up higher to where he can damned near see the swell of your ass peeking out from that obscene little scrap of cloth.

What he does next is probably unwise.

What he does next is approach silently from behind, pressing one hand into the small of your back as he reaches over you to get a hold of the jar you’re struggling to grab. And if he enjoys the way your body jolts with surprise beneath his fingertips or the way your hair smells when he’s this close, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes and for a moment Hoseok thinks you’re going to scold him for being so bold.

But you don’t.

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

Hoseok shouldn’t be toying with you right now and he knows it. It’s not like you’ve ever been an open book with him, but these past few days you’ve been even more withdrawn -- more in your head than ever before.

Not that you don’t have your reasons.

Shit is off the rails with your case and you’re living with a complete stranger and someone left a live fucking snake in your bedroom a few nights ago.

So if Hoseok has noticed that you walk around in a fog — that the fire he used to see inside of you from time to time seems extinguished — well, that’s certainly understandable.

But he can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to your melancholy. He can’t help but wonder if you actually hold a candle for that idiot you left reeling at the restaurant.

Hoseok can’t stop thinking about that guy.

There is a feeling he can’t shake and it’s not just the urge to beat Kang Donghyuk to a pulp. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that beneath the dopey smile and the lazy charm and the overall benign affect, there’s something more.

Something Hoseok is determined to figure out.

So he leaves you to your cooking in the kitchen and retreats to the privacy of his room to phone Seokjin. If this piece of shit is up to something, Hoseok is going to make it his personal mission to find it.

And if he finds something?

Then Hoseok will make it his personal mission to make him pay.

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

YOU

“Amsaja -- with Hoseok. Try being nice.”

You think back to your brother’s words as you stand just outside the door to Hoseok’s room, fist raised to knock. But you don’t, at least not right away.

What is your fucking problem?

You remind yourself that you are a grown woman, not some skittish little girl. You remind yourself that Jung Hoseok is just a man.

And then you get a grip.

The door opens after one light knock. You don’t mean to stare, truly you don’t -- but Hoseok is wearing one of those goddamned tank tops again. What happened to suits all day and all night? Suits are a hell of a lot less distracting.

“What’s up?” he asks cautiously.

Your eyes dart from his face to his chest to his arms and finally settle around his neck, where a pair of dog tags hang from a silver chain. You had nearly forgotten that Jung Hoseok made a career of the military before he was one of your brother’s right-hand men.

“I made some Samgyetang,” you say lamely, gesturing to the bowl of soup in your hands.

I made it for you.

“And it’s uh, supposed to be good for a cold,” you add, when he says nothing.

Which you have.

“So, I -- ” you clear your throat, shift your weight back and forth on your feet, “ -- made some.”

For you.

Hoseok stares at the bowl like you’ve brought him a grenade instead of a meal. The puzzled look on his face makes you feel awkward, makes the entire gesture seem silly.

“Never mind,” you say under your breath, turning on your heels.

“Wait --” Hoseok calls quickly, stepping out of his room to follow you, “ -- I didn’t -- I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“It’s just soup,” you say over your shoulder, trying like hell to sound casual and not at all offended.

Hoseok keeps pace behind you into the kitchen; commands your attention with one firm hand on your arm. You turn to face him, averting your gaze from the sweatpants that hang low on his hips and the thin cotton that grips every muscle of his lean chest.

“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” Hoseok says quietly. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had homemade Samgyetang.”

You pull your arm out of his hold.

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” you shrug, brushing past him.

It’s a relief to trade the charged air of the kitchen for the uncomplicated quiet of your room.

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

Hyejin takes her reading glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not even kidding about my eyesight being shot,” she sighs, reaching for her coffee cup. “It gets worse every day and the print on these depositions does not help.”

“I know,” you mumble, highlighter flying over your own set of fine print. “Sorry.”

“Hey, at least we’re in this together,” she smiles. “Right?”

Her face falls when you don’t return the gesture.

It’s not exactly a secret that you haven’t been firing on all cylinders lately. You are so worn out from the shit going on at work and the shit going on at home that it feels like you don’t have much more to give. You just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week straight.

If only you had that luxury.

Instead, you’re back at it with Hyejin today, trying to figure out a way around the missing digital evidence you so desperately need. The loss of those files was a terrible setback, but you refuse to let it be the end. You still have an entire warehouse full of confiscated guns under lock and key.

Now you just need to get your head in the game.

“You still going to the gala tomorrow night?” Hyejin asks, sipping her coffee.

So much for getting your head in the game.

“Not sure,” you murmur, underlining a key part of the testimony. “Lots of shit going on right now.”

“Yeah, I know things between you and Donghyuk got weird,” Hyejin says carefully.

You stop yourself from laughing out loud.

Donghyuk is so far down your list of fires to fight, you’d nearly forgotten him completely. You probably could forget him if you weren’t subjected to his dirty looks every time the two of you cross paths at the office. You’ve made at least two very awkward cups of coffee standing side-by-side in the past week alone -- but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s -- “ you start and stop before continuing, “ -- not really an issue right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Hyejin concedes. “Just don’t forget that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, alright? You don’t always have to take everything on by yourself.”

You stop your incessant highlighting to look up at your friend and colleague.

Concern is written all over her pretty face and for a moment you entertain the thought of opening up to her. The idea of talking about what’s going on is tempting -- like if you could share just a piece of your burden you could relieve some of the pressure inside of you. But there’s another part of you that worries that you are too pent up to let go of any of this. A part of you that feels like all it will take is one tiny crack for the entire dam to give.

You finally manage to muster one weak smile for your friend, who seems relieved to see any display of emotion out of you.

“Thanks, Hye. I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

You almost skipped tonight. Almost.

But you’d already bought a dress and the tickets were paid for and Hoseok didn’t even flinch when you told him you had to go to a black-tie event.

If only you could say the same for the moment you saw him in the living room.

When Hoseok turned at the sound of your heels on the marble floor, with hands tucked into the pockets of his bespoke black tux, you nearly forgot to breathe. All of the coordinating details, the slim-cut jacket and the perfectly-styled hair and the carefully-crafted bow tie felt like a gut punch.

You’d silently prayed that Hoseok didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered on him for just a beat too long -- or that he didn’t spot the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. The color that must have been made all the more obvious against the rose shade of your gown.

“You ready?”

Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with his usual business-like tone. The one that tells you that this inner monologue about how incredible he looks tonight is painfully one-sided.

You nod, not trusting yourself to use your words.

All things considered, the situation with Donghyuk couldn’t have gone south at a better time. He would have been your date for the night were it not for the blow up at dinner -- and it certainly would have drawn unwanted attention to have two men at your side all evening.

Though with the way Hoseok looks tonight, you imagine the attention will come anyway.

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

There are few things in life rich people enjoy more than pretending to give a shit about poor ones.

They make sport of it, jockeying for position in front of the cameras, gladly shelling out hundreds of thousands of won a plate to prove just how much they care. They spend their evenings drinking top-shelf liquor and eating top-notch catering and convincing themselves that they’re making some kind of sacrifice for the greater good.

A string quartet plays softly in the background as guests mill about, grabbing drinks and hors d'oeuvres off of passing trays. Hoseok is at your side, a glass of water in hand. He is just close enough for you to take in his heady, masculine smell -- but not too close.

You hate that he smells this good.

You hate that he looks this good.

You have tried -- and failed -- to ignore the appreciative stares he’s gotten from some of the gala guests. You already caught one woman ogling outright, gawking unrepentantly while at her own date’s side. When a cocktail server walks by with a carefully-balanced offering of champagne flutes, you grab one right away.

Hoseok, as usual, takes nothing.

You sip your champagne and watch him watching the room.

He certainly looks the part of a society player tonight in his tux, the occasional wrinkle of his nose the only indicator of his disdain for the men and women drinking and dancing around him. When a woman bumps into him while carrying a plate of appetizers, he holds out a hand to help her keep upright and she damned near melts at his reassuring smile.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathes deeply before her eyes dart in your direction.

You look away.

Not once have you ever seen this man smile, and he’s certainly never smiled at you. You turn to slam the rest of your champagne and put the empty flute on a nearby table just as another cocktail server passes with a full tray of drinks.

How fortuitous. You grab another.

There’s a few more minutes of mingling before the guests are asked to take a seat at their assigned tables. Hoseok holds out your chair and you accept.

The interaction, like always, is silent.

You look up from the perfectly staged spread to spot Donghyuk two tables away. Even from a distance you can tell his cheeks look ruddy — like he’s already had way too much to drink. He narrows his eyes when he realizes you are looking and you lift your champagne flute to tip a sarcastic salute in his direction. He scowls back.

“Miss Kim,” a deep voice interrupts your petty exchange. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

You force a smile when your boss and his wife unexpectedly fill two empty seats at your table.

“Mr. Park,” you return quietly. “Nice to see you tonight. And Mrs. Park, of course.”

Mrs. Park’s answering smile is warm and genuine, but the same cannot be said of her husband’s. Of course, the last conversation you had with him one-on-one, he’d practically thrown you out of his office. The smile on his face right now is a bit watery.

“It’s so nice to see you dear,” Mrs. Park says sweetly. “And who is this handsome fellow?”

You falter when you open your mouth to answer, but Hoseok smoothly interjects.

“Yi Sang, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

You close your mouth and turn to smile woodenly at Hoseok, who doesn’t bother to look back.

“Mr. Yi,” your boss extends his hand for a firm handshake, but a strange look passes over his face. “The pleasure is ours.”

Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a tight smile and you down what’s left of your champagne.

A couple you don’t recognize join your table before dinner is served. You do your best to appear engaged in the small talk; nodding when appropriate, smiling during the awkward pauses. But there is an emptiness in you tonight. You spend the entire meal pushing the artfully-arranged dishes around your plate because you find you have no desire for food.

The same cannot be said for the champagne, though. That’s going down quite nicely. Your server dutifully brings another flute as soon as yours is empty.

“I must commend you, Miss Kim, on forging ahead with this case,” Mr. Park says, when the plates have been cleared and after-dinner coffee is being served. “I know it hasn’t been easy after the theft of your files.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat. “Yes, well -- I’m doing my best with what I have left.”

“Of course. It’s important we do what we can to bring these low-lives to justice,” Mr. Kim says slowly. He looks from you to Hoseok with an expression that stops just short of a challenge and the champagne in your stomach seems to come to life. “Organized crime in this city is out of hand. We can’t allow Seoul to descend into chaos because of the trash making a living off of guns and drugs.”

Trash like your brother.

“Right,” you say quietly, swallowing past a lump in your throat. “I’ll do my best.”

Hoseok remains composed at your side, but you don’t miss how his knuckles go white as his grip around the water glass tightens.

Trash like Hoseok.

You swallow another mouthful of champagne.

The couple sitting next to the Parks -- oblivious to the friction at the table -- strike up a conversation about the dessert selection and you’ve never been more glad for small talk. The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

But you keep drinking.

Hoseok leans into you, lips so close they nearly brush the shell of your ear and your entire body goes still. Goosebumps bloom all over when you feel his breath against your skin.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

You could almost laugh at the way your stomach seems to fall with disappointment. What were you expecting him to say? Something complimentary? Something reassuring?

What a joke.

All at once you decide you need space, you need air, you need a break from the bullshit you seem to be taking from all sides tonight.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift as you stand from your seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you announce to the table, “I need to visit the powder room.”

The champagne seems to hit you the moment you stand and you have to work hard at keeping your steps steady as you make your way out of the ballroom.

You would never admit it, but Hoseok is right.

You really should eat something.

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

hoseok: text me or i’m coming in [11:02 PM ]

You stand in the mirror and stare at your reflection in the dim lighting of the ladies’ room. You’ve been to dozens of these events over the years and it’s never felt as pointless and unnatural to you as it does right now. A part of you hates how much you’ve tied yourself into knots seeking the validation of these pompous assholes. So desperate to be chosen by the chosen few.

hoseok: last chance [11:06 PM ]

Another part of you hates Hoseok.

You hate his constant presence and his constant silence and his constant judgement. It always feels like he’s punishing you for some transgression you don’t even know you’ve committed. Your phone buzzes with a reminder of the waiting texts and you sigh, unlocking the screen to fire off an answer before Hoseok makes good on his threat to storm his way in.

you: i’m fine. be right out [ 11:08 PM ]

You take one last look in the mirror. Have you always looked this tired?

Before dinner -- after you’d meticulously primped for tonight -- you’d been satisfied with what you saw in the mirror. Now all you can see are the shadows under your eyes, the grim set of your mouth. Is this what other people see when they look at you, too?

A knock sounds on the door and you blow out an exasperated breath. Hoseok must be tired of waiting for you to wrap this pity party. You yank the door open with more force than intended, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off.

But it’s Donghyuk on the other side.

You stare at him.

“What do you want?” you hiss, stepping out into the hallway.

“I just want to talk,” Donghyuk says coolly, standing just a bit too close. You grimace at the smell of liquor on his breath. “You still haven’t given me a chance to thank you personally for making me look like an asshole at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, honey -- you don’t need my help to look like an asshole,” you fire back, pushing more space in between you with a firm shove of your fingers to his shoulder. “You do a fine job of that all on your own.”

His laughter blows whiskey-tinged hot air in your direction and you make a face.

“I see you upgraded the bodyguard to dinner date.”

“Shut up, Donghyuk, honestly,” you seethe. You try to step around him to leave, but he blocks you with his body.

“You fucking him now, too?”

You barely register the movement of your own hand before it’s connecting with the side of Donghyuk’s face. You barely register Hoseok’s arrival before he’s between you both, pulling you away and practically shoving Donghyuk to the floor. You barely hear Hoseok’s whispered threats and you nearly miss the way he unbuttons his jacket to ensure Donghyuk sees his gun.

The whole debacle is so fast and so surreal you could almost convince yourself you imagined it.

But there is no imagining the sting still throbbing in your palm.

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

HOSEOK

The trouble tonight started long before you smacked the shit out of Kang Donghyuk.

The trouble started when you walked out of your room in that goddamned gown. Hoseok had not been entirely prepared for you in that dress.

He had only a split second to make sure he wasn’t staring. He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced the most casual demeanor he could muster, but fuck it wasn’t easy. There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment, would have said in that moment -- if you weren’t you and if he weren’t him.

Of course, dinner was a bit of a clusterfuck, too.

Playing dress up with the city’s elites was somehow less enjoyable than Hoseok imagined it would be. The stares from tipsy society girls and the critical looks from their dates were bad enough but your boss laying it on thick with the white knight bullshit at the end was the real icing on the cake. The coded language and the veiled threats that made loud and clear he knew exactly what Hoseok was but wouldn’t say it out loud.

Hoseok saw the way you seemed to retreat even further into yourself during the exchange, silent and thinking.

And drinking.

Hoseok has only ever seen you enjoy the occasional glass of wine with meals. Tonight was an entirely different story. You were on a mission to get wrecked from the moment you sat down; forgoing food for an alarming amount of champagne. Hoseok counted four glasses down before he decided to say something.

Of course, that went over about as well as he’d expected -- and seconds later, you were walking away.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on following you to the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on overhearing the nasty back-and-forth in the hall . And he hadn’t planned on threatening to kill Kang Donghyuk at some ridiculous charity dinner. But when he saw the man get up from his seat to follow you -- Hoseok moved on auto-pilot.

There was no avoiding what came next.

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

You don’t utter a single word on the ride home.

You don’t say a word when Hoseok walks you upstairs, unlocks the door to usher you inside. He’s still securing the new deadbolts when he hears your bedroom door slam shut.

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before loosening the bow tie and slipping it off.

Then he pulls out his phone to text Seokjin.

hoseok: you on him? [ 11:48 PM ]

seokjin: sleeping it off in his car right now. what a slob [ 11:49 PM ]

seokjin: you’re welcome btw [ 11:49 PM ]

hoseok: thx [ 11:50 PM ]

Seconds later, your bedroom door swings open so hard it bounces back off the opposite wall. Hoseok looks up from his phone just as you are storming into the living room, hands still securing the belt to the short robe you’ve just changed into.

You are positively vibrating with a dangerous energy Hoseok can feel clear across the room. Maybe you’ve been sleepwalking through these past few days, but you are definitely awake now.

And angry.

“I don’t need you to win my fights,” you fume, pointing one hostile finger in his direction. “I took care of myself long before you came along and I can take care of myself now.”

Christ, do you have any idea how little you are wearing right now?

Hoseok focuses on that accusing finger because it keeps him from staring at your legs. It also keeps him from opening his mouth and making you madder than you already are.

“I don’t need you or anyone else swooping in with that macho bullshit,” you hiss, bringing your body within inches of his. “I have had enough of men running and ruining every aspect of my life.”

Shit, do you have any idea how close you are right now?

Hoseok can smell the perfume that lingers on your skin when you’re this close. He can see how your pupils are blown wide and your cheeks are flushed with heat when you’re this close.

“Say something,” you demand, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Do something.”

Fuck, you are playing with fire.

You want a fight and Hoseok is this close to giving you one. He has to summon every ounce of his self control to keep his voice and breathing steady. He fists his hands at his sides to keep them from moving.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he replies with careful calm. “You should go to bed.”

“Or what?” you challenge, fingers reaching to unfasten the top buttons of his dress shirt. Hoseok’s entire body tenses under your touch.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says between gritted teeth.

“Checking for a heartbeat,” you murmur. “Looking for signs of life. Is there a real man in there?”

There’s a real man in here, alright, Hoseok thinks darkly. Keep pushing me and you’re going to find out.

“Of course not,” you whisper to yourself, snaking one hand into the collar of his shirt. He flinches when your fingertips brush up against the cool metal of his dog tags. “You’re some kind of robot.”

You pull the tags out from under his collar and Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just a machine programmed to follow orders, right? My brother’s orders. The Army’s orders,” you pause to read the embossed letters on his tags. ‘Isn’t that right, Captain Jung?”

You gasp when Hoseok’s hand comes up to seize yours. His fingers circle the delicate bones of your wrist and he doesn’t let go, applying a pressure that sure as hell gets your attention.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to,” Hoseok seethes. “People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties. People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

Your stare at him for a moment, eyes wide at his outburst. Then you jerk your wrist out of his hold so violently you nearly fall back with the force of it.

Hoseok freezes when your robe slides down off your shoulder. He stares when his eyes settle on the jagged scar that runs deep across your collarbone.

Fucking hell.

Hoseok traded one bloody business for another when he gave up his rank in the Army for his rank in the Gajog. He’s seen more than his fair share of vicious cuts and nasty wounds.

Whoever did that to you wanted to make sure you’d have to carry it with you for the rest of your life.

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

Tomorrow morning, Hoseok is gonna regret a lot of shit that happened tonight.

He’s going to regret not telling you how beautiful you looked when you walked out of that room. He’s going to regret going out of his way to hurt you with his words.

But most of all, he’s going to regret the moment he looked into your face and saw the anger in your eyes change over into pain.

You yank the robe back over your shoulder, cinch the belt tight — and walk away without another word.

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

tag list!

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itcameuponamidnightqueer · 3 years

Text

the day after the 2016 election, i was working in a warehouse in chicago with 300+ employees who were predominantly Black and Hispanic. i had recently been promoted to a new department, and i was working the early shift to understand the daily process, which meant i had to start my day at 6:30.

i’d slept like shit election night, for unsurprising reasons—i’d actually gone to sleep before it was called, while hillary was still leading, and woke up in the middle of the night with a bad feeling. the commute to work was sad, earlier and darker than i was used to. but i was also a new face of leadership in my department and i didn’t want to bring any election sadness into work, so i did my best to have my feelings on the train.

thankfully, there were only about four other people also working at 6:30; the bulk of the shifts started at 8. i greeted my colleagues, we had our brief looks of shared sadness, and then we all retreated to our separate corners to start the day.

my corner was on the loading dock, at a desk in the middle of two pods of four tables where we processed incoming returns. there were trucks constantly lined up in the bays behind me, the crash of pallets being carted on and off of them, and it was perpetually about 57 degrees. i kept a cable-knit blanket at my desk, and i immediately wrapped myself in it for reasons more than just warmth.

our department had a few employees who came in to start at 7. everyone set up at the same stations every day, and i’d gotten to know the people who worked next to me. we hadn’t explicitly talked politics—a dangerous topic in the workplace in general, and certainly in 2016—but we’d made enough implicit comments that i knew we were on the same page about the election.

one of the people in that pod was a Black woman in her early 20s. she was one of the department’s best employees, and someone i relied on heavily when i was learning the ins and outs of my new job. she always worked the 7:00 shift, and we were the only two in our area that week for about an hour. as a consequence, we spent a bunch of time talking—sometimes about the job, mostly about anything else. i know the concept of friendship at work is complicated, but i appreciated her a lot.

we said hello on wednesday but she was getting set up so we didn’t talk much for a good ten minutes. i don’t know what brought the conversation around to the election—maybe something as a simple as “how are you?”—but i do remember her response to learning that i voted for hillary. i remember it because i’d never confronted my whiteness before; i’d never had a moment where i was aware, even for a split second, that a Black person didn’t trust me.

“oh, thank god,” she sighed. “can i vent for a second?”

we ignored work for basically a full hour. i don’t know if i can describe how that hour felt, or the rest of the day that followed—the gloom of disappointment and active misery from hillary voters; the potent and almost tangible silence from the few people who had voted for trump. i’ve never been part of such a collective mourning like that. that warehouse was a loud, lively place; everyone knew each other, everyone liked each other. but that wednesday was a funeral; a 100,000 square foot warehouse covered, every inch, in grief.

i’ve thought about that moment a few times over the years. obviously it’s the kind of event that leaves an indelible mark on the world as a whole and each person individually. once the warehouse closed i lost touch with almost everyone who worked there, but i’m thinking of it today. i’m thinking of the catharsis and relief we were robbed of four years ago, and i hope people are around somewhere to feel it today.

anyway. fuck donald trump. thank you kamala harris, stacy abrams, the Navajo nation, the USPS, shirley chisholm and every Black woman who’s put in the work over the years to get us to this very overdue historic moment.

#long post #election 2020

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Remember when

Part 25: Unresolved

RW masterlist

All fic masterlist

Tim was grateful that the mission was wrapping up. It had clearly been a set up, but not for them. It would probably make the drug ring even more difficult to track down since they had gone to such lengths to move the whole production, but that would be a problem for another day. Every one of the families, even the ones at locations they had not been aware of, had moved into their houses within the last week as part of a program to provide affordable housing for in need single parent families. He felt bad for all of them considering they were all pawns as part of a much larger scheme but he was far too worried about Marinette to be overly concerned about them now that they were all safe.

Without having captured even one person associated with the drug ring and having exhausted all their known locations, Tim feared they may not be able to find her quickly. He did not know what they could have possibly wanted with her unless they were sure she was Rouge Gorge and thought she had information about them. Although he chilled at the thought that they may have figured out exactly how much information about the drug ring had come from her. She had managed to be in the wrong place at the right time enough to give them all of the major leads they had followed throughout the case.

Oracle was attempting to trace her phone but having no luck. It was no more than he expected. Her phone was basically a burner phone. He had never seen for sure but he suspected she kept no information on it and that she took measures to make sure it had no way to be tracked. For all he knew she could be being held at her apartment. He had no idea where she lived, just that it was within walking distance of her work. That was only a guess based on knowing she had no car and had always walked to meet up with him.

He was dejected as he prepared to head back to the base. He didn’t know what would happen when they all arrived back there. Nothing had been resolved from the recent upheaval. They all were just ignoring their interpersonal issues in order to take care of the immediate issue with the coordinated attack on the drug ring. But the radio chatter even while they were all busy was not nearly as easy going as it tended to be when they were all getting along. He might be channeling Jason because he just wanted to punch someone until he had answers. Maybe he shouldn’t head back while feeling that way in case he decided to punch Batman. Even if he was working on learning more about her work as Rouge Gorge, Tim felt she would not be in this position if it were not for the threats.

---

He was still in the room but he remained silent. He was somewhere behind where she was sitting. There was no other movement in the house. Marinette suspected everyone else had left to deal with whatever excitement had everyone moving around this evening. He hadn’t even asked her many questions at all. She suspected he was just trying to make her nervous so she would just spill everything but without knowing what he knew telling him anything could be very bad for her. She couldn’t do anything that would risk the miraculous box even if it was herself she was risking. It was a few minutes before movement from another person proved her wrong about everyone else being out of the house. A hushed conversation took place behind her before she was once again approached by the man in charge.

When he came over to where she was, he was holding her laptop. She wasn’t sure what kind of information an expert might be able to get from it. She used it mostly for her online sales or for listening to music and watching shows. She kept no pictures or any information about who she was in France or at all really. She was fastidious about leaving no trace of herself online anywhere it could be found. She had not even used her name in any legal or official capacity since she had run from the hospital there. Everything she did was over the internet using passwords and fake log ins. She was especially careful with her recent communication with Adrien. She preferred using email with a hidden location so he wouldn't know she was still in Gotham; she wasn’t sure how effective that would be from her phone. She also tried to clear her history frequently but she could see he had it on the website where her orders came in so she had clearly missed something.

“Even the most careful person leaves a trace somewhere, but this is the only history my best guy could find on your laptop.”

“I don’t know what you are looking for but those beaded headbands are really cute.”

“I had thought you could get me information to stop annoying interference in my business, but clearly you are hiding far more than a secret night life.”

“Maybe I’m just a very boring person. I don't have information. I work, I play Mecha Strike and I sleep.”

“No, it is more than that. You are completely hidden. Your work. Your apartment. Your life is all completely anonymous. Who are you hiding from?”

"I told you, I'm a private person."

"We shall see when I get you to tell me about yourself. I wonder if your apparent concern for children is greater than your desire to hide things from me."

"I don't even know what that means."

He leaned in close to her. He held her still bound hands so they pressed against her. She couldn't even shift to move away from him as he leaned over spoke low right next to her ear.

"I know you are the masked girl and you were very worried about the children that night. You were more concerned for them than for yourself. My men are on their way to see them now unless you have anything you want to tell me."

---

“This isn’t over,” Jason said into the comms once he and Arsenal had gotten away from the warehouse and they could safely speak.

“Wrap it up for the night. We will regroup later.” Batman said.

“I have a lot to compile before I even know where to start with finding more locations for the drug ring. But I’m starting with any more information on where the missing girl is. I’m searching cameras near where we think she lives for any suspicious behavior or known associates of the ring.” Oracle explained.

“No, you don’t understand,” Arsenal spoke this time, “Penguin had the bulk of the force out working for him tonight.Penguin just ordered his men to attack. Falcone was taken and all his men at the warehouse are dead.”

“We should deal with this immediately if we want to keep it from getting out of hand. Penguin likely intends to kill Falcone but would want to do it publicly.” Jason added.

“Agreed. Regroup at Wayne Tower to form a plan. Oracle, see if you can find any movement we can start with.” Batman said.

Tags

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove

#maribat #timinette #timari #boldlyanxious

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styles-89 · 4 years

Text

delicate ; a love story.

chapter one: all new beginnings must require old endings.

authors note: hi!! this is my first jim halpert x reader fic :) i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! also, thank you for the support on my previous writings. flashbacks/flash forwards will be in bold and talking heads will be in bold with italics!

WARNING: language

February 25, 2005

Y/N clears her throat, crossing her legs as she sits in small, uncomfortable grey chair. In the background people are working at their desks, a man turns and glances at Y/N in the conference room with the crew. He turns back and makes eye contact with the camera, that was zoomed in on his reaction. He bites the inside of his cheek and goes back to his work, having a look on his face like he got caught doing something.

“What do I say?” Y/N asks, leaning forward towards the camera, then sitting back in the chair. “Oh, I started working at Dunder Mifflin about a year and a half ago? I’m the receptionist here. Boring, I know. I..sit in at meetings, uh, transfer clients. I also write stories! Sometimes, when I’m free. No-one has really seen them, except Jim.” Y/N looks down and fiddles with her bracelet. “Jim’s probably my best friend.” Y/N responds to the crew, the question of her relationship with the man coming up. She nods and smiles. “He’s the best salesmen I know. Everytime he makes a sale we air high five.” Y/N chuckles and smiles brightly at the camera.

“Caleb? He’s my boyfriend. He works in the warehouse. Helped me get this job.” Y/N nods, her smile faltering but a smirk staying on her face. “He’s great, we’ve been dating for...four years. He still has yet to pop the question but you know, we’re saving money, haha.” She smiles and chuckles. “Oh that’s it? Okay cool, uh, if you guys need anything don’t be afraid to come over to my desk and ask.” Y/N stands, and gives a small wave to the crew and camera before she exits the room.

“So, how was it?” Jim asks, leaning back in his chair, looking the woman up and down that was leaning up against his desk slowly, trying to find a trace of concern or outright disgust. Most of the employees at Dunder Mifflin, especially at the Scranton branch, were concerned with the idea of a documentary being filmed. Y/N seemed to like the idea. “It was fine, you just talk about yourself and your job.” She readjusted herself to now be sitting on Jim’s desk, legs dangling off. Y/N eyes the camera that was now standing near the two of them. This would take some getting used to. “So, Y/L/N, you want to go to Poor Richards tonight?” Jim asks, poking the top of her knee. Dwight perks his head up looking over at the two. “Shouldn’t you be working?” He asks, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

A ring was heard from reception, and Y/N hurried over to the phone after shrugging in Jim’s direction, picking it up. “Dunder Mifflin, this is Y/N. Yes, I’ll transfer you.” Y/N says into the phone, sitting back down in front of her computer monitor. “Dunder Mifflin, this Y/N.” She pressed the phone to her ear and her shoulder, writing on a sticky note ‘You mean, like a date?’ “Oh uhm,” The caller was asking to speak to Micheal, but he wasn’t in his office. “Where’d he go?” Y/N mouths to Jim, and he returns with a shrug. “Micheal isn’t here right now, may I take a message?” She asks, setting the separate sticky note to the side and grabbing another one to write down what the person on the other line needed. “Got it. Thank you!”

Y/N stood up and took both of the sticky notes, one to Micheal’s office, sticking it on his computer monitor, and walking over to Jim, placing the purple piece of paper on his shoulder. She would just joke with him out loud but didn’t want Dwight staring at them again. Jim looked over at Y/N, who was now back at her desk and lowered his eyes, a hand resting on his face. She let out a pretty peal of laughter, a pink tint on her cheeks. Their jokes is what got both of them through the day.

“Y/N?” The crew had asked him how he felt about Y/N and her affect since working here. “She’s a great friend. Very easy to talk to..warm, energetic and positive.” Jim comments, biting his lower lip gently. “Why do you ask?”

At the stroke of 5p.m., Y/N stood up and took her coat off of the coat rack, finding some ways to stall to talk to Jim by stacking the post-it notes, putting the scattered paper clips in their rightful container, making sure her computer was properly turned off. After what seemed like an hour of judgement from other employees as they left (it was only about two minutes), Jim approached her. “I’m assuming your in?” He asks and Y/N smiles. “Hell yes. I haven’t gone out to Poor Richards with you in forever.” She says, stuffing her hands nervously in her coat pockets. “Wait, were going to Poor Richards?” Kelly calls back to them and Y/N’s eyes widen, realizing how loud she was. “Guys were going to Poor Richards!” Kelly called down the hall, earning a few cheers from the other employees.

“I love my coworkers.” Jim says, sighing, and clicking his tongue to his cheek. “But Y/N is the only one who understands the pain of group outings. It’s mainly one of the reasons why we do things with eachother, without the rest of the Scranton branch.”

Y/N and Jim laugh at the same time, the camera zooming in on Caleb as he enters the office right when the two of them were about to leave. “Hey, baby.” Y/N says, pressing a kiss to Calebs lips, his hands resting on her waist. Jim looks into the camera with a frown as he fiddled with his car keys. “So Jim and I were going to go to Poor Richards, if that’s okay with you?” Y/N asks, keeping her arms wrapped around his neck. “Oh, babe..I kinda wanted you to come home tonight, you know..the reasons why.” He grumbles and Y/N looks at the camera, Jim looking visibly flustered and uncomfortable in the background. “Uhh..I just- haven’t gone out with them in awhile.” Y/N separates from Caleb and he frowns. “Fine. You can. Love you.” Caleb says before placing a kiss on her forehead. “Take care of her, Halpert.” Caleb says and Jim nods. “Will do.” He says awkwardly, chuckling afterwards.

“Guess I’m all yours tonight.” Y/N giggles, walking down the stairwell, Jim not far behind her. “Haha, yeah..” He trails off and Y/N stops and looks up at him. It was tremendously cold in the stairwell, but it was their safe space. “Somethings wrong.” Y/N says and Jim shakes his head. “I know that face.” She retorts. “What face?” His eyebrows furrow as he looked in her direction. “The face were you think really hard about something, were your concerned.” She points out and Jim smirks. They really had memorized each other, like a book they had read multiple times. Other miscellaneous things they knew about eachother: Jim’s favorite pen color is blue. Y/N’s favorite yogurt flavor is strawberry.

“I’m just thinking about Caleb. Why didn’t he want to let you leave, besides..you know.” Jim mocked Caleb’s grumble, this made Y/N laugh. “I don’t know.” She says, continuing down the stairs but she frowns. “Sometimes I just don’t get him.” She confessed, and Jim’s face softened. The camera crew slips into a corner so it is out of view. Jim rolls his eyes and pushes the door open with his back. “Boys! Amirite?” He jokes, which made Y/N smile. Jim rushes over and opens Y/N’s door, to which she thanks him. The camera crew watches as the car drives away. “Do you think everyone else is already there?” Y/N asks and Jim shrugs, focusing on the road. “Thanks for taking me, by the way.” Y/N comments and Jim smiles. “No problem.”

After a couple of hours of hanging around the bar and Y/N getting hammered, the crew filming most of the experience, Jim decides it’s best if he takes Y/N home. He had successfully put her in his car and buckled her, and once he was in the car, Y/N wrapped her arms around his arm while giggling. “Wow. You are SO drunk!” He exclaims and eyes the girl, a gentle, caring smile on his face. The camera zooms in on the two, the view being from another car. “I’m perfectly sober!” Y/N cheers and Jim shakes his head as he pulled up to a red light, the camera filming them in the next car over. “Would I do this if I wasn’t sober?” “Do what-” And just like that, time stopped.

Y/N’s lips were on Jim’s, and Jim’s eyes widened, but he relunctly placed a hand on the back of her head, cradling softly as he closed his eyes. It was so pure, so delicate. The light had turned green, and a car honked behind them. Jim immediately pulled away, stepping on the gas, the camera getting a shot of them as they veered off. Y/N giggled and covered her mouth, then threw up in a bag that Jim had given to her just incase of an incident like this. He didn’t really have time to process what had just happened, and he rolled his eyes as he placed a hand on her back, rubbing it gently. He pulled up to his house, seeing his roommate was home. Jim was going to take her back to her house, but he was scared that she wouldn’t be able to articulate without some sort of assistance, and Jim presumed Caleb was already asleep.

Jim helped Y/N out of the car and walked into the small house and his roommate smiled. “So this is her?” He asked and Jim glared at him and sat Y/N down. “Just get me a glass of water, asshole.” He comments and takes his flip phone out, texting Caleb.

‘Hey, it’s Jim. Y/N got really drunk and she puked in my car, so I took her back to my house. Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the couch. Have a good night.’

“What am I going to do with you?” Jim asked and shook his head. Y/N made ‘grabby hands’ towards him and his obliged, sitting on the couch with her, her body shifting so her head was now on his lap. He smiled down at the girl and quickly turned on the TV. Jim could feel Y/N slip out of consciousness by her breathing and he smiled again, taking a moment to take this in. He stroked her hair and he swallowed harshly, remembering what had happened earlier. Jim bit his lower lip and sighed, then took the girl up in his arms, bridal style, and walked to his room, placing her on his bed, and covering her with the blanket.

The next morning, Jim cooked breakfast for her, gave her medicine, and let her know of what had happened last night. She was taken aback, wondering why she would do such actions. She apologized profusely, to which Jim just smiled and shook his head, replying with a ‘you’re fine.’ Classic boy-next-door Jim. Y/N went home, and didn’t tell Caleb. There was no reason to. She was drunk, and didn’t remember the events. The weekend flew by in a flash, and soon it was Monday again.

Y/N walked into work with a bright smile on her face. That smile quickly faltered as whisperings were made by her other coworkers, and she made eye contact with Jim. Had he told someone? No, surely he hadn’t. Y/N’a eyes faltered from Jim as she sat behind her desk and Jim tapped his pen on desk. Dwight taps his desk a single time and Jim looks over at him, raising his eyebrows. “Y/N has a boyfriend.” Dwight quickly says, and Jim nods. “Yes, I know. Why are you telling me this?” He asks, really not wanting any of Dwight’s antics at the moment. “Because you kissed her.” Jim’s heart sank into the bottom of his stomach. “..Who told you that?” He whispered, glancing at the camera, and Dwight points at the crew member holding the camera. Jim looked at the camera and clenched his jaw.

“How long does this documentary have to be?” Jim asks, his hands folded in his lap as he clenched his jaw.

Y/N wrote sloppily, she was jotting down ideas for her writings. Not that anyone would see them. “Y/N?!” Caleb calls and Y/N stands up. He sounded angry. “Caleb? What’s up?” She asks, walking from behind the reception desk. “You kissed Jim?!” He yelled and Jim turned away from the gaze of Caleb, spinning in his chair as he looked in the camera. The whole office knew by now. “I-I was drunk! And it’s not like it meant anything!” Caleb had a right to be upset, after all, she had kissed him even if she didn’t remember it. “I’m sorry..” She trailed off and Caleb clenched his fists. “Sorry isn’t gonna cut it! You hang out with Jim all the time, how will I know if you don’t do something like this again?! We’re over. I want you moved out of the apartment by tonight.” Caleb angerily says and Jim looked over at Caleb, standing up. “Hey, man, she didn’t mean-” “I don’t want to hear it, Halpert. You kissed back.” He spat. Y/N looked over at Jim before she watched Caleb storm out of the office. He was gone. The man she wanted to marry, spend the rest of her life with, was gone. He wanted her gone.

“Y/N.” Jim quickly said and Y/N tears up, looking up at him. She just threw away four years of her life she would never get back. “I can’t..” She said and rushed out into the hallway, and finally into the stairwell. Jim followed close behind. “Hey..” Jim soothed and wrapped his arms around her, her head now resting on his chest as she wept. He rubbed her back gently and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, looking over at the camera. “You’re going to be okay, Y/L/N.” He comforted, and Y/N sputtered. “I don’t have a place to live! He wants- me gone by tonight.” Y/N hiccups and Jim holds her tighter, thinking of ways he could help her. “Hey! Crazy idea, you can stay at my place until you find somewhere to stay.” Jim suggests. He hadn’t even talked to his roommate.

“Are you sure? I- that’s.” Y/N tries to the find words to show her appreciation, and wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her tippy toes to hold onto him. Jim wraps his arms around her waist and closes his eyes, holding her tightly once more.

And just like that, Jim knew this was the right thing to do. He took in her scent, the softness of her skin, and the many giggles coming from her.

“I’d do anything for her.” Jim says confidently, before his eyes fell from view of the camera. “She’s my best friend.”

taglist: @jackryanplz

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seancekitsch · 4 years

Text

Ebb & Flow

part 2 for Heat. diego x reader

warnings: angst, hints of diego’s self loathing, low key set in the prize buck universe but obvs not the same reader character, drinking, oblivious idiot love birds, unprotected pre-marital missionary, edgar allen poe reference, corny ass shit

Four days pass, and every day he debates trying to reach out to you. He wakes up in a cold bed that feels empty without you. But he doesn’t; because you made it very clear you did not want to sleep with Diego Hargreeves specifically. He decides to try to go back to what his life was like before you fell into it. Before he fell for you. He tries to pretend that hair pin (which he’s now tucked away into a drawer) isn’t literally haunting and taunting him every second he’s in his boiler room bedroom. It’s hard for him to sleep or function with it in the room with him, like it screams it’s presence as a trace of you. The hair pin is a tell-tale heart of all of Diego’s misguided feelings and how he so severely misread the situation between the two of you. The hair pin is the constant thrumming of his mind telling him over and over that of course you’d never feel the same way as he does. You were a therapist, he was a gym janitor. Of course you’d tire of slumming it with a man that regularly plays crime fighter at night. Diego is constantly reminded of you even without seeing the hair pin because he just knows where he put it. And that address. That damn address carefully written in blue pen on the back of one of your business cards. Would it be wrong of him to still look into the warehouse? You had to have left it for him on purpose, you had to have taken it out of your bag and left it there purposely on the bed; there was no way it could have fallen out of the bag that was on his table and onto the middle of his bed as you were leaving. Diego tries to bury his thoughts of you in vigilante work, tries to stay out late. He succeeds and returns just before the gym opens in the morning. When he finally gets back to his boiler room, Al offhandedly mentions that a woman had inquired about his whereabouts. Part of Diego desperately hopes and wishes it’s you, but he doesn’t do anything about it. You probably don’t actually want to see him. Or it's one of his sisters. Probably just Allison or Vanya. Family stuff. Maybe they had another dad die or something.

Twelve days later, he finally works up the courage to call the owner of the warehouse to ask about pricing and zoning if he wanted to start his own gym there. He had enough in savings that he could have moved out of his current situation and into a studio like Klaus had, but he wanted to put as much money together for his own gym before he thought of himself. He could sleep peacefully alone on a cot in a gym that he happened to own. The current owner remarks that he had heard Diego would be calling, and says he likes the idea of a gym going into the space there. He thanks the man, and they strike a deal, talk about a title and deed change to be drafted and signed for the beginning of the next month. Diego unofficially owns his own gym now. Normally he would be calling you to celebrate, but instead he dials and hopes the landline at Klaus’ apartment is still connected. Klaus’ partner answers and congratulates Diego, and invites him out to the bar with them this weekend. Diego’s voice declines before his mind can stop himself. Maybe because he didn't want to celebrate with anyone but you.

It’s fifteen days later, Friday, when Diego regrets not going to the bar with Klaus and his partner. It's Diego, a six pack, and that damn hair pin having what looked more like a pity party than a celebration of a major life event. But maybe that's not the worst thing, now he can focus himself for the job ahead, get a good night's sleep. Well, he would have gotten a good night's sleep, if there weren't suddenly shouting coming from the hallway outside his door.

“Klaus, I don't want to be here!”

That was clearly, unmistakably your voice. You were outside his door and vehemently expressing that you wanted nothing to do with this place. What were you doing with his brother? Oh, right. Friday night at the bar. He was supposed to have been there too, but he bailed.

“Well it was either this or you officially become part of my harem for the night”

“I have a home, thank you very much! I could go to it”

“But you left your car at the club, and you live across the city. You’re safe here, even if you are afraid of my brother now.”

Afraid. Afraid. Your opinion of him had gone from disgust to fear. He presses his ear now to the door and can only hear one set of retreating footsteps. Someone is leaving, and if hes right, its Klaus.

Then he hears,

“FUCK,” a frustrated half-groan, half-scream. He has to admit to himself, even hearing how unhappy you seemed, he missed hearing your voice. He missed you. And you were outside his door right now in the middle of the night. Fuck it, he thought, I’m not missing my chance.

When Diego opens the door, he sees you sitting on the ground, tight jean clad legs spread and chunky high heeled boot toes pointed outwards. He always loved those shoes on you. When his eyes meet your face, there’s an indignant pout on your lips, but your eyes are apologetic.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. C’mon, I’m not leaving you in the hallway.” He opens the door a little wider, enough that he could usher you in, but you don't budge.

“Y’know, i’m not even drunk it's just my-”

“-your rule, yeah, I remember,” You had this rule that no matter what, you wouldn't get behind the wheel if you'd had more than one beer or even one drink stronger than a beer. Always best to err on the side of caution, you’d said. Better to not get pulled over at the very least or kill anyone else at the very worst, and you could handle being inconvenienced if it meant safety. But the fact of the matter is that it's the dead of winter and you live across town. You actually live in pretty close proximity to his new gym.

“Come in, you can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch in Al’s office. It’s two am and you are not walking home looking like that. I’ll stay away from you,” He's trying his best to sound comforting and respectful, but it hurts. It hurts to be inviting you in and knowing you want nothing to do with him.

“You don't have to-” you pause, as if trying to find the right words, “I’m not gonna put you out like that”

Diego nods, and turns back inside the boiler room, holding the door open, and you catch it, following him. It's just like old times, except it isn't.

“Here, I've got a shirt and some pants you can sleep in,” Diego’s rifling through his drawers as he talks, worried he’ll look at you too long and seem as desperate as he is. He manages to throw a clean tee and a pair of jogger sweatpants on the bed, two of the only clean items he has currently because tomorrow is laundry day. Diego turns completely around to avoid looking at you while he can hear you changing, something he never would have done before, but there are boundaries now. He can imagine exactly what you look like right now, beautiful as ever and tired, changing into his clothes, just as it had happened dozens of times before. Only before he would have watched in awe and then grabbed you all to himself.

“You can turn around now, nothing you haven't seen before,” your voice is soft, you don't sound annoyed anymore and he can’t help but feel a twinge of hope at that.

When he turns around, he sees you've neglected the pants all together. Your bare legs end where the hem of his shirt meets the tops of your thighs and - why the fuck would you tell him to turn around with you dressed like this?

You gesture to his bed, and he sits on it, but you don't. You stay standing, looking more apprehensive and nervous by the second.

“K-klaus said you're afraid of me now?” Stupid thing to say. Diego’s tired. His insecurities are showing. You're the last person he would want to be afraid of him.

Your face crumbles into something unreadable, but what he would guess is pity or guilt. Which are maybe worse than fear and disgust by his standards. He lets his head drop, suddenly finding his draped hands between his legs to be extremely interesting.

You shift from one foot to another, unsure of how to answer, but then it comes to you.

You place yourself in his line of vision, not allowing him to look away as you kneel down on your knees between his own. The sight alone is more than Diego can bear.

“No, no I'm not. I'm sorry you heard that and he said that. Look, I wanted to talk to you, not like this, not right now. I came by last week but you weren't here.” So it was you that had come around. Not his sisters like he had convinced himself. You wanted to talk to him.

“I wanted to apologize. I-I shouldn't have left like that. I need to explain to you why I left.” He nods, and lets you continue. “I crossed a line. I was wrong. Our arrangement, I know it was like a no strings attached thing, but I started to have strings! I have so many strings. I broke our agreement, it wasn't casual for me. I broke your trust. I had to leave. I couldn't do that to you.”

Strings. You had strings, attached. To him of all people. You broke the rules. So did he. He searches your face, as if there's something to read on your features, and feels your hands slide into his own.

“I-I-I’m sh-shitty at t-tying knots.” Diego what the fuck was that? He was more nervous than he thought. But you break into a watery grin, understanding the meaning in his words. You nod, and reply,

“I can teach you, if you've got strings to spare.” That was extremely sappy, and he loved it. He had so many strings to spare. He loved you. And he could show it now.

He tugs on your hands to pull them up to his shoulders, and you lean up into it, lips coming together as his hands wrap around your back to hold you tight. He easily lifts you up until he can gather you in his lap and keeps kissing you, over and over and over until you're dizzy. He holds you tightly, not unlike the last time you were in his bed, but this time his hands roam and grasp and touch, exploring you like it's the first time you're doing this. In a way, it is. It's the first time you're doing this so vulnerable and open with one another. You don't have to hide the smile that forms against his lips, you don't have to feel shame in the way that your lips chase after his own when he tries to pull away. You are taking from each other as much as you are giving, and for once you are giving everything.

His hands slide from your back, to the hem of his shirt, to your ass under the shirt. Diego is, at heart, an ass man you remember. He squeezes one cheek, then slaps it. Not hard, just enough to feel the slight jiggle at the contact. He chuckles against your mouth and then continues south, still kneading his hands into the flesh of your ass as his kisses meet the hem of his shirt at the other side, at your neck. You kiss his cheek, his nose, the scar that connects from behind his ear to his eye. Diego takes the time to lick the base of your neck, making you shudder and moan into it before he flips the both of you, surprising you when your back hits the blankets below. Looking up at him, his eyes are full of lust and admiration.

“You look beautiful in my shirt, baby,” he whispers.

“And you are wearing entirely too much, dear” you reply.

He groans, and it turns into a chuckle as he whips his shirt off his torso, revealing his broad, scarred chest to you, which your hands immediately reach for to pull him back down onto you. He makes no move to remove the shirt covering you, but you think this might be doing something for him. Instead, his hands roam under the shirt again, and tease at the hem of your underwear. They aren't a particularly sexy pair, because the last thing you expected to happen tonight is this. It doesn't matter to Diego, who just pulls them down as far as his arm can reach, letting you kick them the rest of the way off as he fumbles with pulling his sweatpants down. There isn't the usual teasing game tonight, no. You'd spent too much time apart, you are full to the brim with love that even a little teasing would have the two of you spilling and in pain. This is fuck-or-die with no real consequences but your own impatience and need for each other.

Diego wastes no time gently spreading your legs with a smooth slowness you didn't know he possessed before easing inside of you. You gasp, close your eyes, and breathe, taking a moment to remember this. This is what it felt like to make love. Another first for both of you. His pace, when he finally begins moving, is slow and steady, he's in no rush now that he has you. He’s quieter than usual, opting to just kiss you until he's sure you can read his mind and just understand what he's thinking. You rock peacefully, like a boat on the ocean, cresting waves within you mounting, exhaling with low moans he's never heard from you before. You never thought slow and careful would bring you to climax, but here you are feeling it steadily build and build. Waves now beginning to crash instead of ebb and flow, Diego’s only warning being your moans beginning to rise an octave. The release hits you in an all encompassing mighty tidal wave, leaving you shaking in his arms, holding onto him tightly like a lighthouse to the shore. This was not a white hot explosion, this was the tides coming home. As you subside, you almost feel ashamed at how quickly you came for him, but Diego is close behind you, your body pulling him to shore after you. He comes with a tight, close-lipped hum of a moan pressed against the side of your neck, and stills above you. His body cages yours to the bed, a willing prisoner of whatever Diego Hargreeves had in store for you. Whatever happened next for him, you were along for the voyage.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves smut #my work

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Text

memory lane - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

day 9 - warehouse

author’s note: i really wanted to revisit the memorable scene in book 1 and have my detective tease adam about it, so i hope you enjoy this senseless fluff piece! for context, this takes places sometime after the day 7 (pain) prompt fill.

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: k+; domestic fluff, humor word count: 1.1k based on/prompt: day 9 – warehouse from #28dateswithunitbravo challenge by @wayhavenmonthly summary: regina takes her son for a walk and tells him about the first time she met unit bravo, much to adam’s chagrin.

memory lane

regina let out a big yawning stretch before standing up to leave, exhaustion and weariness evident on her features. adam’s gaze followed her movements, brow furrowed in concern as regina rubbed her sleepy eyes and moved to adjust the carrier with their son nestled in it on top of the stroller. he stood up and pressed a hand gently to her back, looking over her shoulder at their sleeping son.

“are you sure you cannot stay? you need rest,” he murmured, his thumb drawing circles on her back.

“you all have that meeting at the facility and then you’re on patrol tonight. i’ll rest at home, i promise,” she reassured him, turning to give him a kiss on the cheek. “it’s a nice day out and i think the walk will be good for both of us.”

“at least let one of us take you home. our meeting should be brief,” adam said, “i couldn’t bear it if something happened to either of you.”

regina wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for soft kiss. “i know. i’m meeting tina on the way and morgan’s on patrol right now. we’ll be fine.”

it had become a mantra of hers, the phrase “we’ll be fine,” when she felt things were safe and relatively normal. over the years she had developed a sixth sense for danger, heightened by the number of close calls, extensive agency training, and adam’s cautiousness.

he sighed and nodded before seeing them to the gate, gazing longingly after them until they were out of sight before he pulled out his phone and headed back inside.

regina tilted her head up to feel the warm, early summer sun on her face, soaking it in and willing it to give her the energy to make the walk back to town more enjoyable. the supernatural world didn’t accommodate parental leave, so she took breaks whenever she could, leaving adam and the rest of the team to shoulder more of the work.

ironically, one of the things she passed on the way from unit bravo’s warehouse to the town square was the path that led to the old farris warehouse. where everything in her crazy life began. for her, there was life before she met unit bravo and life after.

“why don’t we take a trip down memory lane, jacques?” she chuckled to herself, steering the stroller down the overrun path, thankful that the agency had designed with special safety features at rebecca’s request.

despite the unkept terrain, the carrier remained steady. it didn’t take long for the warehouse to come into view, the doors next to the spot where she had parked her car that night were still wide open. she stood in front, in the exact spot where she first encountered unit bravo, a smile on her face at the memory.

a loud cry startled her out of her reverie and brought her attention back to the bundle of joy that was clearly hungry, lifting him out of the carrier so she could feed him. he eagerly took to the bottle she gave him, guzzling the warm milk as she cradled him against her chest.

“did you know this is where mommy met daddy, uncle nate, aunt farah, and aunt morgan? it was dark so mommy didn’t know who they were,” she said softly, jacques’ eyes wide and staring back at her as though hanging on to her every word.

regina walked over to where her car had been parked that fateful night. “and this is where daddy was fighting a bad man and dented mommy’s car,” she chuckled at her own description of the event. “he still hasn’t paid for damaging mommy’s property.”

she gently turned around and kept walking until she could look up at the warehouse fully, the sunlight beaming through the trees and casting dappled spots of light across the bleak exterior. she remembered how unsettling that whole encounter was, and the number of ways in which things could have gone horribly wrong.

but looking how the sunlight was filtering through the leaves and dotting the walls with shadowed patterns made her think about what a difference a little bit of light can make.

jacques gurgled happily as he finished his meal and regina lifted him against her shoulder to burp him, patting him on the back as she shifted her weight to create a gentle rocking motion.

“and this is where daddy was being scary and mean so mommy ruined his so-called favorite shirt. but just between you and me, he had at least a dozen more just like it until i bought him some other clothes,” she laughed at the mental image of how intimidating unit bravo had been back then and the memories of her arguing with adam over his wardrobe, or lack thereof.

if she knew then what she knew of them now, how gentle and caring they could be – even morgan, who denied it every time, she certainly would’ve teased them more.

regina could feel jacques’ head grow heavy and brought him back down into her arms, swaying slowly back and forth to lull him to sleep. she started singing softly, the foreign lullaby from her childhood that she didn’t understand to this day, and watched as jacques yawned, his little nose scrunching as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

adam leaned against the side of the warehouse, out of regina’s peripheral view, listening to her melodic voice waft through the air as clearly as if she was standing right next to him.

“although i couldn’t see their faces, i remember aunt farah thought it was funny when mommy ruined daddy’s shirt,” regina whispered, tucking jacques back into his carrier. “sweet dreams, baby. i have so many more stories to tell you.”

he chuckled and walked toward her. “must you already fill his head with such stories?”

regina whirled around, her eyes lighting up at the sight of adam walking toward them. “well, we’ve come a very long way since then and i think little jacques should know our story, don’t you think?”

“yes, but perhaps we can leave out the violence and danger and whatever else will put me in an unflattering light,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“if there are any unflattering stories of you, i wonder whose fault that is?” she teased, holding his face in her hands and giving him a soft kiss. “what are you doing here anyway?”

“i told nate to handle the meeting. i wanted to make sure you made it home safely before i went on patrol,” he explained, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and bracing for her annoyed retort.

to his surprise, regina’s eyes softened instead and she gave him an understanding smile. becoming a mother had made her more cautious and fearful for her son’s safety. she was much more amenable to adam’s cautiousness and protectiveness these days. “well, i’m not complaining about getting to spend more time with you. shall we?”

he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as they walked back to the main path towards town, adam pushing the stroller with his free hand as they recalled the early moments of their relationship that she couldn’t wait to tell their son about.

* * * * * permatag: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;

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