#I hope whatever employee reads it likes the pictures and finds it interesting

[davidmariottecomics]

Let's Buy a Comic

Hello! Check it out, I'm back a second week in a row! Pretty good! 

Alrighty! Lets get right to it! I'm hoping to keep this one quick! Because this comes up a lot, I want to talk about how to go about actually buying comics. It's both a lot easier to do than you may expect and a lot more nuanced! 

The Local Comic Book Store

When we're talking about the release of comics in the U.S. (and certain other places, including the U.K., Canada, etc) in stores, we're often talking about the Comics Direct Market. A ways back, I talked about both what exactly that means (Creator Vocab, pt. 1) and a little bit about how I shop at a comic book store and how you might want to too (You, Me, and Your LCS). I recommend reading through both of those if you missed 'em, but the short version is comics are primarily sold--at least in brick-and-mortar or physical stores--through specialty shops that primarily sell comics.

Comic shops tend to be one-off independent businesses. Sometimes, you might find one that's a small chain, often regional or within a single city or state. But there's no comic equivalent to say Toys R Us (not that TRU is really around in the U.S. anymore) or Barnes & Noble (we'll get to them) or FYE or whatever your other media-focused specialty chain retailers are. One of the really cool things about that, often, is it means when you go to a shop, you really are engaging with the local community. Not only are the employees local, but they're paying attention to what their local audience likes, and many shops also try to be involved in local events. The reason I'm really stressing this local point is if your comic shop doesn't know your interests as part of their local community, it makes it so much harder for them to bring in what you are looking for! (As a brief aside, I know some comic shops fall down on that and can be unfriendly, but a lot of them are cool and a lot of them like doing business, so they do want to get to know you and your interests). 

"But David," you cry, "what if I don't know if I have a local comic shop?!" Good news: There's a website for that. And it even looks up shops outside the U.S. just by toggling a button! Hopefully, there's a good option for you! Sometimes, unfortunately, things just aren't spread out nicely like that. I have lived in places where the closest comic shop was an hour or more away and for a lot of folks, I get if that's not doable. Good news too: There are websites for that! Just choosing a few off the top of my head, here are some comic shops: Mile High (in CO), Midtown (in NY), Golden Apple (in CA), Comickaze (my local store), Silver Sprocket (indie comics including stuff they publish), Big Bang (in Ireland), Quimby's (in IL, a indie comics/zines & bookstore). Seriously, there are a bunch of them and they all have different stuff--see the bit about catering to their local audiences first--but also they ship! It has never been easier to buy comics from a comics specialty shop. 

All of this is step 1 in buying comics: find a place with comics. Hopefully, now you have that. Let's take a brief trip to step 1.5: other places to buy comics. 

The Book Market 

I'm going to keep this fairly brief, but there are lots of other places where you can buy comics--though often not in single issue format. I mentioned Barnes & Noble earlier (and FYE who has some selection here too). You may remember a whole rigmarole not too long ago about why manga was beating comics or whatever because there were a couple pictures from one B&N with a larger manga than non-manga comics section (Shelf Space). And if you read that, you might remember one of my big points is it's all comics. In many ways, comics has broken back into the book market and collected editions and manga are available in more plentiful supply at bookstore chains and independent stores. Good news: There's a website for finding your local independent bookstore too!  

Some comics are available through other channels too--from digital comic retailers and apps, borrowing them physically or digitally from your local library, and even a selection in mass market retailers like Walmart and Target. I believe--though there's some trickiness with this--both Marvel and DC still offer print comic subscriptions for their series. Plus, of course, there are a host of free and paid for webcomics hosted all over the internet and like huge comics campaigns through Kickstarter and so many other *legal* ways of obtaining your comics! All of this is to say, there are lots of ways to get access to comics beyond just comic shops. 

Finding the Right Selection

Step 2: See if this shop has what you want, and if not, figure out how to get it. 

Alrighty, not to sound too redundant, but one of the things that makes a comic shop special is it being catered to the interests of the owners/employees/regular customers. Different stores often have different specialties. Some stores primarily focus on new releases. These shops tend to have comics from within about a year, and then heavier sections for collections (for older material), sometimes manga, or "related material" (e.g. board games, toys, cards, Pops, etc). Some stores rely heavily on their back issues--comics that didn't sell (or are being resold) when they first came out, but that people still want--sometimes because they're trying to complete a run, sometimes because the comic features the first appearance of a character or something, sometimes just because some back issues are cheap and accessible. Some stores are more manga heavy, or more comic art book heavy, or don't really carry comics by the larger publishers, or carry comics of specific genres, or promote comics created by queer folks and POC, or whatever! Each store's identity is going to be unique. 

Let's say you're looking for Sonic the Hedgehog. A place like Silver Sprocket or Quimby's is probably not going to have any and isn't likely to bring it in outside of a special request. The other stores I called out earlier probably will have bring in at least a couple copies. Mile High might be your best bet, out of those specific shops, for older issues, both from IDW and other publishers (there're about to be 900 English language Sonic comics, don't you know!). But they might not have any Sonic the Comic issues from the U.K. and you might need to look elsewhere for those! Finding a shop is important, but it also informs what you're going to find in the store and how likely it is they'll be able to get you what you want--be it new issues or older back issues.   

I think it makes sense to share this here. I shared a thread from @disdainfreely who was walking through what it's like ordering for the comic shop they work at. It's an interesting thread and clearly speaks to how personal orders are from shop-to-shop, retailer-to-retailer. 

Pre-Orders Pre-Orders Pre-Orders If you've found a shop that you dig, and you're looking for new/upcoming issues, the best way to proceed it to ask them about pre-ordering the book and setting up a pull box. A pull box is essentially a subscription through the comic shop. You don't (well... depending on your LCS's system) get the comics sent to you directly, but the store has a standing pre-order for you in place and will hold on to your pre-orders for a time. 

Pre-ordering comics should be easy and *usually* is. Like most things, the more specific you can get, the better. You want to have Sonic added to your pull-box. Cool. Most retailers can work with just that. You might have to specify if that includes specials (like the 900th Adventure, the Amy's 30th Anniversary, Scrapnik Island, etc) or if you're trying to get specific covers (their own whole thing), but that's a pretty clear conversation. When you're talking, say, Batman, maybe it's more complex because there are a LOT of Batman titles with a lot of covers. Then, it might be helpful to either grab a catalog in store or look up what you're interested in at a distributor level (Lunar = DC, Image, and a number of smaller publishers, PRH = Marvel, IDW, Dark Horse, and others, Diamond = Pretty much all other publishers w/some overlap) and if you can share a specific order code, awesome! Just makes their life easier. 

The real key to pre-orders is not only does it guarantee you a copy of the comic you want on the day it comes out, but these numbers inform the comic's print run (how many copies of it are made in the first place) and the store's overall inventory going forward. If you're the one person buying Sonic at a store, hey, maybe they're only bringing in your pre-order. But maybe they take a chance and bring in a couple copies of the next issue and you bring your friends in (or total strangers come in--maybe other regular patrons) and pick it up and then hey, now the store's ordering more Sonic more regularly and that's cool. It is a system that is good for you, good for the store, and good for the publisher.  If You Liked It, You Gotta Go Back

Finally, once you've got everything else figured out, if you had a good time, remember to go back! Especially if you started a pull box (in which case, go back at least monthly!). Part of being a store that's driven by the local community is needing repeat customers to keep things afloat, so stop in again sometime! 

And, really, that's how you buy a comic. If you have any questions, ask your retailer! 

Next week? Who knows! But it's nice to be back! 

What I enjoyed these past few weeks: Blank Check (Podcast), Honkai Impact (Video game), Rise of the TMNT (Cartoon), Craig of the Creek (Cartoon), Transformers: Earthspark (Cartoon), Across the Spider-Verse (Movie), Transformers: Rise of the Beasts (Movie), Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 3 (Movie), Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), My Year in MENSA (Podcast), Robocop (Movie), Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs by Jamie Loftus (Book), Chainsaw Man (Manga), I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy (Book), Hail to the Chin by Bruce Campbell (Book), Forest Hills Bootleg Society by Dave Baker and Nicole Goux (Comic), Pet Peeves by Nicole Goux (Comic), Girl Taking Over: A Lois Lane Story by Sarah Kuhn, Arielle Jovellanos, and Olivia Pecini (Comic), I Think You Should Leave (TV show), Smallville (TV show), Guy's Ultimate Game Night (TV show), the DC Pride special (Comic), the current runs of Superman, Superboy, and Shazam (Comics), Witch Watch (Manga), The Age of Pleasure by Janelle Monae (Album--I really like Lipstick Lover), Barry (TV Show), Robber/Robert (18+ ADULTS ONLY COMIC), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video game), all the many Sonic birthday announcement-y things and other cool video game news, now being on Bluesky (I'm @davidmariotte there). Again, probably missing a lot of stuff because it has been a while since we last really talked, but that's what is at top of mind!  

New Releases this week (6/21/2023): Sonic the Hedgehog, Vol. 14: Overpowered (Editor)

New Releases next week (6/28/2023): Brynmore #1 (Editor) 

Final Order Cut-Off next week (6/26/2023 - AKA Preorder Deadline) Sonic the Hedgehog #63 (Editor)

Announcements:

Genuinely, not much to announce at the moment. I'll be at San Diego Comic-Con as usual this year (just got my badge in the mail). TBD whether this is my last con of the year. I hope not (and if you're a con and want me, reach out!), but we went so hard on spring and early summer shows this year, just expecting to be more light on travel the latter half of the year. I also wish I could be like "here's a big new thing I'm writing" but I don't have anything to talk about on that front right now either, sorry! 

Tonight Becca should be streaming on Twitch (they're working a book festival today, so will likely be late and might not be long), but that should still be happening, I think! Or you can watch their art stream from Wednesday with Gigi Dutreix! You can also always visit their website, which is updated with new stuff since I last yelled about it here! 

Lastly, I mentioned Silver Sprocket earlier! They're going to be opening up mini-comic submissions in August. Might be worth looking, folks who are interested! And if you need a writer... (wink)

OH! And of course, while it's still June, happy Pride! 

Pic of the Week: Becca and I got a Sonic union suit! So here are funny pictures of us in it. 

#comics #comics editorial #sonic idw #sdcc 2023 #comic shops #how to buy comics #bookstores

[vincentbriggs]

Still very behind on blogging, but I finished a post on the Werther's Wrapper waistcoat. (For anyone who missed it, yes they're real wrappers fused to the fabric. Please never do that, it's a terrible idea.) While I was filming it I forgot to take many photos, and the blog post doesn't have as much information as the video I made about it.

#Werther's Original #Waistcoats #sewing #video #me #18th Century #sort of #1770's #The Sorrows of Young Werther #hand sewing #deaths head buttons #Werthers.com has a contact page so I sent them a link to the blog post #I hope whatever employee reads it likes the pictures and finds it interesting

[softprincesso]

✨HOW TO BECOME A WEALTHY MIDDLE-AGED MAN✨

PT.2: Overview to understanding different saving/retirement methods, investments, and forms of income

2.1 Savings and Retirement

Welcome lovelies to (what I hope will be) a helpful series on gaining wealth and becoming financially literate and independent!

*disclaimer: while this advice can generally apply to many it will not apply to all. Everyone is in a different situation and should do their own research before they take what ANYONE says as fact or law. This is also coming from the perspective of a young, biracial, first generation female business student following a hypergamous lifestyle and who does sw so some advice may be specific to my like-minded ladies, but for the most part I just love money and want to help others find joy in their wallets as well. I am also operating in the US so things regarding accounts, stocks, and certain laws will vary by your country. Also, this is just a fun thing I wanted to do because talking about leveling up and learning and growing and money are my favorite past times. None of these pictures are mine, however I am using some links which may compensate me in some way, but I only used links which were mutually beneficial and would help you gain something as well, they are still just actual sources I use for myself.

✨THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND✨

Financial independence is different than financial confidence.

Financial Independence: “The most common sense of the term is that someone has enough wealth to live as they wish for the rest of their life without having to work.” -Investopedia https://www.investopedia.com/financial-edge/0611/declare-your-own-financial-independence-day.aspx

Financial Confidence: “We define financial confidence as having three aspects,” says Miler. “The first is awareness of how money can be a tool for helping you reach your goals and dreams. The second is financial literacy and understanding economic factors. The third is trust and knowing where to turn for financial advice.” -Forbes https://www.forbes.com/sites/shelleyzalis/2018/06/16/women-money-8-steps-for-growing-your-financial-confidence/?sh=2175b65e2468

While the ultimate goal is financial independence, financial confidence should be the main focus. I’ll give an example why. Imagine there are two people: Rhonda and Jill. Both of them like nice things, love to shop, and participate in the occasional splurge. Rhonda works a regular 9-5 and has a decent salary. She doesn’t have much financial knowledge (translation: financial confidence), but she has a savings account at her local bank and puts a couple hundred into retirement each year and she thinks that's enough. Suddenly, Rhonda wins the lottery. Overnight she has become a millionaire, so she quits her job, moves to LA, and goes on to live life to the fullest. She would now be considered financially independent. However, Rhonda has no idea how to manage all that money. She puts a small amount into that bank savings account and takes the rest to do what she will. One day she tries her luck at a casino, in less than five hours she has lost all of her money and has to start back at square one with no job, only a few thousand to get her through, and no-good way to explain to employers that she just wasted the last 5 years spending money on handbags she now has to sell at a depreciated value. (BTW you would not last not working with only a million dollars in LA for that long)

Now, let’s look at Jill. Jill is an independent contractor and has a relatively steady income. She knows very little about finances, but she actively learns how to manage what she has and keeps up to date on the latest money news. The day that Rhonda won the lottery was just another Thursday for Jill, the only unique point for her was that she opened a savings accounts with a high APY (we’ll say 1%) and put in $5000.00. A little later she also opened a Roth IRA and puts in the maximum yearly allowance of $6000.00. Along the way she opened a brokerage account of her own and started trading in the stock market along with investing in real estate which has given her some extra income to play with each year. Unfortunately, another housing crash occurs, and all of the money Jill invested into real estate is gone. However, since Jill learned the skills behind her choices early on, she is knowledgeable and understands the ups and downs of the market and how to invest her money in other places in the meantime. And, that High yield savings account accrued around $50 more without her doing anything and she has that to fall back on, or worst case she can take out part of her principal Roth IRA contribution. 10 years from now Jill should start to see a steady increase in her Roth IRA that by retirement will be a little over 1 million and she should be comfortable and invested enough into stocks that she gains around $200-1000 extra each month.

I think you understand why you want to be Jill.

✨HAVING ADEQUATE SAVINGS = BEING YOUR OWN LIFEGUARD✨

As discussed in Pt.1 the first goal you should achieve is securing an emergency fund that could sustain you for a couple of months if things were to ever hit the fan, and starting a retirement fund should be in your top 5 goals to complete. The saying, “the rich get richer” is popular for a reason. Wealthy people know how to make their money work for them instead of them having to work for money. An easy way anyone can do the same is by opening the right accounts for your savings and retirement.

Savings: 

All of your savings should be in a high yield saving account or split between different high yield accounts. This is an account which will reward you some interest every period for having money in your account with them. This is incredibly easy to do. You can either research/ask your bank about their high yield accounts or do some googling to find some other bank. Then transfer your money and there you go! When looking at banks understand that the highest Annual Percent Yields (APY), or the interest they will reward you, are going to be from online banks because they have less operational costs than a brick and mortar, but they will also come with their own disadvantages, like less ATMs to access or the inability to use when outside of your country so make sure to look into that. IMPORTANT: Make sure that whatever bank you choose is FDIC-insured so if the bank were to ever collapse or lose your money you have insurance up to $250,000.This won't generate a lot of extra cash, but an extra $20 every year is better than $0.

Retirement:

These accounts usually go by your current situation and what you see for your future.

401K: Probably the most known (I believe it’s only in the States but there might be something close to it in other countries) and that’s just because this is what employers usually offer if they offer anything. It is a retirement fund that your employer will set up and you can predefine how much of your paycheck you want to automatically go into it every time. Sometimes, the employers will also have a match program, and if they do you better max out the money they will contribute because that is FREE money! Most advice that I have seen has said to really only focus on this fund if your employer has that match program, otherwise I would focus on one of the accounts below. https://www.investopedia.com/articles/retirement/08/401k-info.asp

IRA: An IRA stands for Individual Retirement Account. There are three kinds…

                         Traditional: This IRA lets you put in pre-tax money and lets it grow tax-free until you make a withdrawal. Once you make the withdrawal that money is taxed at the current rate of your income at the time. Your contributions are tax deductible so you can write them off of your taxable income of that year. There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                          Roth: With this IRA your contributions are taxed, but when you withdrawal money later on it is tax free. For those of you in a lower tax bracket than you believe you will be in the future, this IRA makes the most sense as you will pay less taxes now than you will when you are 59 ½ (The official age of retirement in the States). There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                           SEP: Simplified Employee Pension. This is also an employer-based plan and may also work better for my self-employed gals out there. I don’t really know a lot on this one so I’ll just leave a link you can look into if it interests you: https://www.investopedia.com/ask/answers/102714/how-does-simplified-employee-pension-sep-ira-work.asp

You can have both a traditional and Roth IRA as long as you are eligible for both. Anyone with earned income (with a job or can prove a steady income) can contribute to a Traditional IRA, however with a Roth IRA, as a single you can earn up to $139,000 and contribute. Personally, if you are just getting started with all of this just set up one IRA and as you learn more you can take steps to get another or switch accounts.

https://www.investopedia.com/retirement/roth-vs-traditional-ira-which-is-right-for-you/

There are a plethora of other accounts, but they are more specialized and the top four should get you started on the right path to saving for retirement. I’m guessing that the majority of the audience reading these are women between the ages of 20-30. Trust me when I say that I love to spend money as much as the next girl, but I also would like to be completely comfortable should anything happen in my older years that screws up my marriage or job, and no one is going to secure that for you.

Also, I’m sorry this is so US-based, but once again it is all I know. I believe IRAs are more widespread than a 401K, but all that takes to find out is a Google search on your part.

Either way, make sure you have a plan going into 2021 for your savings and retirement because this economic whirlwind is far from over and there is always a chance for another recession, depression, or disaster. (Wow O, way to keep the mood light)

This was getting way too long with the investments added so look out for Pt.2.2 on the overview for investments (where the actual fun begins and I can stop being such a stick in the mud)…

VOCAB TO KNOW/RESEARCH:

Financial independence

Financial Confidence

APY

Roth IRA

brokerage account

High yield savings account

principal

401K

Traditional IRA

Once again… if in these posts I ever give bad advice, F- something up, or am just generally ignorant PLEASE call me out! Remember that just like you I am a young woman figuring everything out and while I am confident when talking about money, I am by no means a genius (only in spurts) so any chance to learn I appreciate. I hope you all learned something new today and as always…

With Love,

O

#how to become a wealthy middle aged man #wealth #money #money management #wealth management #finances #hypergamy #affluence #heauxlife #heaux advice #heaux tips #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled gf #spoiled heaux #black woman in luxury #luxury #sugar tips #oadvice #softprincesso

[spencersweetie]

Coincidence (Spencer x GN!Reader Onseshot)

Category: Fluff

Summary: Spencer and Reader accidentally have a museum date when they run into each other. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none <3

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

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called your name. You turned around and faced a familiar man whom you’d met through your friend Penelope. Spencer stood smiling at you with his hands in his pockets. He energetically waved at you.

You grinned back at him. “Hey Spencer! What a crazy coincidence, us both being here at the same time.” You had spontaneously decided to visit the National Gallery of Art since you had a free day to yourself over the weekend.

“Totally!” He responded. “I’m supposed to have the whole weekend off so I thought I’d revisit the gallery. How are you?”

“I’m alright! You’re revisiting? How many times have you been here? This is my first time seeing the gallery.” You had been to other art museums in Maryland but never the National Gallery of Art since you had recently moved to D.C. a year ago.

Spencer chuckled lightly. “This would be my ninth time coming here. I saw the gallery for the first time when I was nine years old  and couldn’t keep myself away from this place.

“Wow!” You exclaimed. “I don’t blame you, I’ve only seen the sculpture garden and the first few pieces in this wing so far and everything is gorgeous; I’m in love already.”

“You know what, I’ve got the building memorized!” Spencer eagerly informed you. “If you want, I could be your personal guide and show you the best parts of each exhibit and take you on the most efficient path through the museum! I mean, you don’t have to say yes, it’s up to you.”

“Spencer, that’d be awesome, I’ll totally tag along if you’re cool with that!” You beamed at him, trying to hide your excitement. You usually went on trips like these alone so it was nice to have someone who could enjoy the same thing as you by your side.

“Great, let’s go!” Spencer turned and gestured towards the next exhibit.

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

As you and Spencer explored the museum together, you noticed how abnormally comfortable you felt around him. You two had never hung out without Penelope so this was a first for you both. Even without your mutual friend, you found that Spencer was both easy to listen to and easy to talk to. He of course knew a lot about the art in the gallery and thoroughly explained each piece to you but you appreciated that he never talked to you like you were dumb or lesser than him. He regularly asked if you were okay with his infodumps as well, which you completely didn’t mind. You could tell that he undoubtedly had a passion for the arts, and you liked that he was so enthusiastic to share that with you.

While you did certainly find Spencer’s interesting facts to be intriguing, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you looked at him from the side. He didn’t notice your looking as he faced the painting while he talked to you, completely occupied by the piece that was on the wall in front of him. You liked the way he spoke about the art that he showed you. Spencer was very animated, clearly demonstrating his excitement about whatever he was explaining in the movement of his hands. His face was quite expressive too. His eyebrows rose and fell as he talked and his eyes squinted and widened as he conversed with you. You hadn’t noticed how pretty Spencer’s eyes were until now, how his irises were brown but with little gold specks on the inside. You liked that when he wrinkled his nose in the middle of a sentence, his scrunch reached the top of his nose bridge between his eyes. His nose was a nice nose, you thought. It enhanced his side profile and turned slightly upwards when he smiled too. And his lips. Today you noticed that his lips were quite… pink. And full. And plump. You had to catch yourself when your eyes traveled down from Spencer’s eyes to his mouth when he spoke, then hope that he didn’t notice your distraction. You just liked that way he smiled, that’s all, you told yourself. He often kept his smile as he talked and continued to smile when you spoke to him too. You liked the way his lips puckered when his smile grew bigger as he finished his sentences. It seemed like an uncontrollable habit of his-

“Y/N?” Spencer interrupted your thoughts. He looked at you with his brows slightly raised.

“Hm, yeah?” Your mind snapped back to the present moment. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

“Are you okay? Am I boring you? We could stop here if you want!”

“No, Spencer- it’s fine!” You jumped to explain. “You’re good, I promise! I’m not bored, I just got lost in my thoughts for a second. Um, the only da Vinci painting in the U.S. right? Is this one here?” 

“Exactly!” Spencer lit up and straightened his posture. “Da Vinci painted less than 20 oil paintings throughout his career; this one was bought for $5 million and arrived in D.C. in 1969!”

“Damn!” You exclaimed. “So that makes this portrait like, the Mona Lisa of the National Gallery, huh?”

“Absolutely!” Spencer agreed with you. “The gallery has other Da Vinci pieces displayed but none that are as rare and valuable as an oil painting of his. This one, Ginerva de’ Benci, is a portrait of a daughter of a banker, most likely commissioned when she was about 16 and just engaged. You know, the juniper bush is what’s in the background. Juniper represents chastity which was one of the most significant traits of a woman in the Renaissance era. It’s kind of a subtle little pun, including the juniper plant, because in Italian the plant is called ginepro.”

“Oh! Ginepro, Ginerva! That’s so cute, I love it!” You told him. “I like how there’s like no fancy jewelry or finery on her in this portrait too. It’s different from the Renaissance portraits of the other ladies that we saw.”

“Yeah, it’s a little bit of a surprise when it comes to a portrait like this that she isn’t completely dressed up! It doesn’t reveal her family’s wealth like portraits commonly do. I love that you noticed that.” Spencer’s lips turned at the corners in appreciation of your attention to detail. “Let’s move onto the next one!”

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

You and Spencer moved on through the exhibit, then through the rest of the museum. You two enjoyed each other’s company for the day and were able to see all the art in three hours. As you exited, you found yourself laughing as you and Spencer recalled the events of the day. “I still can’t believe they kept trying to pay you for a private tour even after you insisted you weren’t a museum tour guide!” You laughed into your hand which was clapped over your mouth, trying not to draw attention to you and Spencer. 

“Shut up!” Spencer jokingly rolled his eyes at you. “I hate that they were gathered around me too, attracting a crowd while trying to hand me money. I don’t even wear a uniform like the other employees!” Spencer cracked up along with you, shaking as he pictured himself standing next to you, explaining to a group of strangers that he was just visiting with a friend, not working for the gallery.

You shrieked with laughter, uncontrollably gasping for air as you tried to calm yourself. “Then when they said they would call the gallery and get you fired for denying customers!” Tears were coming out of your eyes from being unable to stop laughing. “And you just went ‘Okay!’ and walked off without me!” You missed a step and tripped, grabbing Spencer’s arm as you fell into him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You were half still dying from laughing and half freaking out from your mistake. “I didn’t mean to grab you, I know you’ve got a germ thing! I think I just got a little carried away and wasn’t careful enough to watch my step!” You frantically apologized to Spencer. “Are you okay?”

Spencer grinned at you and dusted you off on your shoulders. “Relax, Y/N. I know you’re not germy; I’m not gonna freak out if you touch me. And I’m fine, you’re the one who fell!” He reassured you. “Are you okay? Do you need a second? You’re pink in the face, I don’t know if from laughing or from tripping on the step.”

“I’m fine, I’m good! Thank you Spencer.” You replied, still hot around your face. “Let’s just get out of here before I start to laugh and embarrass myself again.” You chuckled. “Are you free for the rest of the day? We could get something to eat if you’re hungry!” 

Spencer smiled at you. “Yeah, I’m free! Do you like Indian? There’s this new place that’s about 10 minutes from here-”

A loud ringing cut his sentence off. Spencer sighed and apologetically looked at you before whipping his cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah?” He spoke into the phone.

He listened for a few seconds before speaking. “I’m in D.C. but I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thanks, Penelope.” Spencer hung up and shoved his phone back into his coat.

“Got a case?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I know we were supposed to-”

“Spence!” You stopped him. “You don’t have to apologize, we didn’t even plan on hanging out today!”

Spencer’s eyes softened; he expected you to express disappointment before anything else and was surprised that you were understanding instead. He smiled and nodded. “Okay, but we could still check out the new Indian place another time, yeah?”

You felt butterflies in your stomach emerging. “Of course. Thank you for today, Spencer. I had an amazing time.”

“Me too, Y/N. I’ll text you when we get back!” 

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment your thoughts or send anon feedback, anything is appreciated <33

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #fic #fanfic #fluff #spencer reid fluff #cm #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #oc #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds oneshot

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!!  Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen? 

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here. 

---- 

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 27: Fraser Publishing Part 2

Summary: Claire and Jamie finish out their day at work

Read on AO3

Read chp 27 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

a/n: A huge thank you to my friend @isthisclever (/isthiscleverr on twitter ;) ) for being an amazing beta for this chapter and also dealing with my writer's block/overall overthinking <3. Go check out her story "The Other Side," which one of my favs and is almost completed, ahh! While you're at it, maybe just stalk her whole AO3 page.

Thank you so much for your patience, lovely readers. I managed to get past the writer's block, and this 5k if what just sorta happened after a month of not writing. Hope you like it!!

*

Chapter 27: Fraser Publishing Part 2

The air felt heavy despite the fresh scents and slight breeze. Hand in hand with Claire, Jamie walked slowly around the trail that wound its way in a meandering circle around the park. If he was being honest, he was stalling, trying to give them both time to gather themselves before going back to Fraser Publishing. Jamie couldn't ignore the grief tugging at his insides, but he forced it down deep, praying that Claire couldn’t feel it from where she held onto his hand like it was her lifeline. 

Oh Christ, if she could feel how his grief was eating him up inside...

A cloud hung over them for a long while, but Jamie was trying his best to reassure Claire with comforting touches and sweet words.Gradually, her face began to lift, and he caught sight of the spark of his faerie beneath the sheen of guilt and lost potential blanketing her face. It was still clearly on her mind, though, and Jamie couldn’t shake the discomfort that he was trying to shove itself forward from the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind. 

It was well past lunchtime and when he should have taken her back, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to force her to go inside when she still seemed so… off.

Apparently that was the right decision because at one random moment, Claire stopped him and abruptly pulled him into a hug. 

“What was that for, my wee faerie?” Jamie asked, brushing a few stray curls away from her forehead after holding her for a long moment. 

“I love you,” she said simply. 

There clearly was more on her mind. In that moment, he didn’t know whether to push her or to leave her be. He tilted his head down, catching her gaze, praying silently that he was making the right decision. 

“What’s botherin’ ye, a leannan?” he asked. He slipped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face higher so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I just..” she started, but cut herself off to take a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know how to tell you how I’m feeling, Jamie. I’m sad. But also I’m so, so happy. I want to be with you, be happy with you—” she tugged on his hand which was still gripping hers “—forever. I just… want it to last, I suppose?” 

“It will, Sassenach,” he assured in an exhale. “It will, lass. 

“I,” her eyes filled with unshed tears, and Jamie wished he could take them all in the palm of his hand and keep them from spilling from her eyes. She didn’t cry, though, just blinked watery eyes up at him. “I know we haven’t talked much about… the rest of our lives… but— talking about not having babies today just made me think. Maybe... maybe I’m not meant to be forever for you?” 

Jamie’s heart dropped below his toes, sinking down through the grass beneath his feet and likely down into the very core of the earth. He could barely force the words out through his suddenly raw throat when he asked shakily, “Do… do you no’ want that, Claire?” 

She shook her head so violently that the curls swished back and forth over her face. The expression of horror at the question eased Jamie considerably, and her answer fully assuaged the rest of the rising panic. 

“I do want that, Jamie. From the second I ran to you from that hill I knew it was forever. I love you more than the life that was mine. I just… if that’s not what’s best for you, I wouldn’t take the rest of your life from you. Your dreams.” It was her turn to raise a hand to his face, cupping his cheek with oceans of tender, selfless concern swimming in her eyes. 

“It’s always been forever for me, Sassenach,” he told her firmly, voice low. He believed it with every bone in his body. “And I told you before, I have no life but you, Claire.” 

She blinked, and he could tell she was trying very hard not to break down into tears. 

If he could have, he would have gotten down on one knee and proposed to her then and there. He knew it was forever, and he wanted desperately to share that with her, but there were conversations that needed to be had and preparations to be made before he could.

He let go of her hand and raised both to her face. He held her between his hands, cradling his whole entire world between his palms. Beseeching her to listen, he held her gaze for a long moment. 

“I dinna have to be an empath like you to ken that ye’re still feelin’ guilty, mo ghraidh,” he said. “Please, listen to me. I wouldna tell ye this if it werena true.” He took a breath. “If you could gi’ up yer old life, yer people, yer home… for me... it is nothin’ for me to no’ be able to have biological children. I would trade everything I have to keep ye. Everything. And I wouldna think twice. I want ye forever, Sassenach, whatever that means.” 

Her cheek was so soft under his fingers, and he was startled to find wetness there. He glanced up to her eyes to find that she’d finally lost her control and tears were escaping to roll down her face. 

“Please, dinna cry anymore,” he pleaded, “I canna bear for ye to be in pain.” 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, Jamie,” she whispered. “I’m crying because I love you.” 

***

Walking back inside Fraser’s Publishing some time later, Claire seemed much more at peace. She no longer visibly waged war inside herself, and Jamie felt like he could finally breathe. The heartache they’d shared was far from over, but at least its troubles for that day could be left outside in the park. 

As they came inside, they were greeted by Mrs. Crook, who immediately beckoned them over to her desk with an eager wave. 

“Claire, darling! I have some homemade cookies I thought ye might like to try…” 

“That’s verra kind, but she has food allergies, Mrs. Crook. She doesna accept food from anyone,” Jamie quickly cut in. 

“Oh, well,” Mrs. Crook looked back toward Claire again. “I saw ye wi’ the Murray weans earlier, dear. Maybe ye would be interested in seein’ some photographs of my darling grandbairns?” 

The woman was clearly desperate to bond with Claire, and Jamie couldn’t help but feel proud to see how much of an impression his lass had made. Claire shot him a quick smile, giving him a nod and a look that said “I’ll be alright.” 

“I’ll meet ye back in my office,” Jamie said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her curls. 

Before she could even reply to him, Mrs. Crook had snagged her arm and was herding her over to her desk, Claire good-naturedly following while blowing Jamie a kiss. 

Leaving the ladies in peace, Jamie started toward his office. Before he’d even made it out of the reception area, however, he found himself face-to-face with Geneva Dunsany, forcing him to grind to a halt. 

Geneva was one of the lower level staff members in marketing and a relatively new hire. Jamie usually only hired people he knew personally, but John had insisted on her as a favor to her father, a longtime family friend. Jamie didn’t know much about her other than that she was competent enough at her job that he never had to interact much. 

But here in front of him stood the dark-haired lass, her face caked in makeup that was a shade too dark and her fake lashes blinking up at him. 

“I wondered if I might have a moment,” she asked. 

Jamie spared a glance behind him, checking that Claire was alright. Upon seeing her chatting away with Mrs. Crook over a picture on the reception desk (and hopefully not in immediate danger of revealing her secret), he turned back to Geneva. 

“Of course. What can I do for ye?” 

“I had a question about… Well, I thought I might ask you to have a look over some quarterly reports I’ve completed.”

As she was speaking, Jamie shot another look over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry about Claire when she wasn’t by his side, and he was impatient to get her tucked safely away in his office so he could finally get some real work done. 

Geneva was clearly displeased by his less than courteous behavior. 

“Mr. Fraser,” she sighed. 

He turned back toward her, reminding himself of his dedication to his company— as distracted as he was, an employee didn’t deserve to be treated like this. 

Geneva was already speaking again. “I was wondering if perhaps later today you could come by my office? Or I could come to yours?” 

“Ms. Dunsany, I’m afraid I’m verra busy at the moment and I’ve lost a fair bit of time already… Perhaps ye could take it up wi’ John instead?” 

“But…” her response faded from his attention as a familiar wee hand suddenly wrapped itself around his bicep and a body pressed flush against his side. 

At Claire’s sudden appearance, Geneva cut herself off mid sentence, her painted mouth falling open into a disgruntled “o.” 

“Hi, my love,” Claire all but purred to Jamie, giving his arm a squeeze. She tugged him slightly downward, enough so that she could stand on her tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Jamie was left bewildered as one of her hands snaked over to plant itself firmly on the center of his chest and rub back and forth. 

“Hi, mo ghraidh, ehm—” he struggled to find words as Claire gave him another kiss, this time to his shoulder. He could barely focus his mind as it seemed her hands were everywhere at once: stroking his chest, rubbing his arm. What the devil had gotten into her? 

He finally remembered what he was trying to do, and managed out a weak, “This is Geneva, our…” her job title flew out the window as Claire’s hand went from his chest to hook into one of his belt loops on the opposite side, effectively stopping his heart and his brain in one simple motion. 

“Geneva, this is Claire,” the words burst out in a rush with zero brain cells behind them as he desperately tried to fulfill his social duties in the face of his girlfriend’s advances. 

He lowered his head to try to catch a glance at Claire’s face, to make eye contact and glean some sort of clue about what had gotten into her, but he found she wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her eyes were fixed straight ahead, right on Geneva. 

“Hello,” Geneva said, a hint of disapproval in her voice. She took a step back from them as her eyes flicked up and down. 

“Hello,” Claire replied, but her tone made Jamie start. Never before had he heard his faerie— his joyful, bubbly, loves-everyone-without-discrimination faerie— sound so cold. Her voice was low and steady, without even a hint of smile. 

Jamie’s brain went on high alert as Geneva reached a hand out for a handshake. They had rehearsed this in the car (not that Claire’d had a chance to use it yet with all the hugs she’d been giving out), but Jamie was worried that all the training had gone from her mind when she had apparently lost her marbles. 

However, Claire removed her right hand from where it had been placed over Jamie’s stomach to reach out and clasp Geneva’s while keeping herself firmly glued to Jamie’s side. 

He could feel her stiffen against him the moment the two lasses made contact, and then, as if a rubber band had been snapped, Claire withdrew her hand and turned to Jamie with a jerk.  

“I need something from your… room, darling,” she said forcefully, clearly forgetting the word for office. 

“Of course, a leannan, what do ye—”

Before he could finish getting out his question, Claire was stepping in front of him to drag him away. He allowed himself to be tugged off by his faerie, leaving behind a nonplussed and rather displeased looking Geneva. 

When they got down the hall to his office, Claire all but shoved him inside. Jamie stumbled through as Claire shut the door behind them. He was just beginning to ask, “What the devil has gotten into ye—?” when Claire was suddenly on top of him, her lips claiming his so insistently that it was almost an attack rather than a kiss.

His words were muffled by her lips, and he found himself getting shoved up against a wall as she took his mouth. All protestations died in his throat and her strange behavior was wiped from his mind as her kiss clouded his senses, filling him so entirely. He let her tangle her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her, and he didn’t resist even as she tugged hard and her tongue swiped into his mouth. 

He was fairly certain that she would be the death of him, but he was more than willing to die of asphyxiation if it meant that her lips wouldn’t leave his. Her mouth pressed hot against his, demanding and consuming. Still, as his lungs screamed for air, and he urgently squeezed her waist where his hands were resting. 

She tore her lips away, gasping for breath, and then stood there, panting. She was quite a sight. Her hair was mussed, lips puffy, and her eyes held a hard look, darker than he’d ever seen them before. 

What the hell?

“What— what was that?” Jamie gasped, barely able to find his breath. Claire had clearly stolen it from him during that heated kiss, right along with his wits and perhaps even his free will.  

“You’re mine,” Claire said hotly, drawing closer again so her body could press against his as she said it. Her eyes blazed as they locked with Jamie, as if daring him to disagree. 

“Of course I’m yours, mo nighean donn, but what brought this on?” 

Claire had been in the process of leaning in to trail a line of kisses down his neck when he spoke, and she halted on her second kiss to draw back with a huff. 

Clearly bothered, she looked almost dangerous as she said in a low voice, “Geneva. She wants you.” 

“What?” it was almost a laugh as Jamie reacted to her claim. 

Claire took a tiny step back so she could properly meet his eyes, and then said, very resolutely, “She does, Jamie. I touched her, I know. I could tell even before I felt it that she wanted you.” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open at this revelation. He knew better than to protest, and upon hearing her confirmation, he realized that Geneva had been rather forward lately, but that didn’t mean she… 

Looking at Claire’s heated expression, it clearly did. His lass was inflamed. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated, and her jaw clenched tightly. 

Jamie couldn’t help it as a smirk began to turn up the corner of his lips and a warm feeling of something akin to satisfaction spread in his chest. 

“So ye’re tellin’ me… that whole scene outside, and then you all but attackin’ me in here… was because ye were jealous?” 

“Well,” Claire shifted on her feet slightly, for the first time in several minutes breaking free from her severe look, “yes. You’re mine, and she—”

“Aye, I’m yers, mo ghraidh, no doubt about it,” he confirmed without hesitation, making sure she knew it was the absolute truth of his heart, “jes’ as ye’re mine.” 

He couldn’t help but smile though as the pieces all fell into place. She’d seen him from across the room and gotten jealous, so she had marched on over to stake her claim on him before demonstrating her power by stealing him away, only to kiss the living daylights out of him. It all made sense now. Her behavior wasn’t random. It was possessive. 

“You’re enjoying this!” Claire exclaimed, looking up at him with an open mouth. She was trying to sound appalled, but he could see the smile she was trying to smother turning up the corners of her lips. 

The laughter bubbled up from his chest, and he grabbed her around the waist to pull her against him as he chuckled. “Ye’re too much, mo nighean donn. And it only makes me love ye more and more.” 

Despite herself, she started laughing too, grabbing his shoulders as he hauled her against him. 

“I suppose it was rather… petty,” she admitted, biting her lip. 

“Mmmm, the way ye kissed me, though. I think I wish more lassies would take a fancy to me jes’ to get that reaction from ye again…”

She smacked him lightly on the chest, but she was still smiling as he leaned down to peck her on the lips. 

“You don’t need silly girls to want you in order to get me to kiss you like that…” Claire teased, standing on her tiptoes so she could hover her lips over his. 

“Oh, is that so? What must I do, then?” 

“Absolutely nothing,” she breathed. 

And then her lips were on his again, and she showed him exactly how little he had to do. 

*

Jamie lost another solid twenty minutes of work time due to the makeout session with Claire that ended up with him pressed against his desk and Claire doing her darndest to make him lose every ounce of self control he’d ever possessed. He’d never been more grateful in his life that his office window had blinds and a locking door. 

As nice as it was to have the very enjoyable attentions of his love, he had wasted so much of the day away already, and there was work to be done. He reluctantly detached his faerie, pulling her away by the waist while she murmured a protest. 

Jamie swiped a thumb over her puffy lips as she pouted at him, resisting the urge to laugh. 

How he loved her with his whole heart. 

“Sorry, Sassenach, I really hafta finish up some work before everyone leaves for the day, and at this rate, I willna ever be able to stop kissin’ ye.” 

She caught his fingers in a quick kiss before she frowned. “I don’t understand why all of you are so caught up with ‘work’,” she commented with distaste. 

“I’m beginnin’ to agree wi’ ye, Sassenach,” Jamie snorted. The temptation to throw everything out the window and pay attention to absolutely nothing save this alluring creature in front of him was nearly enough to drive him mad. But Jamie loved his work, cared about his business, and he had to have some self control— what few scraps remained. 

“Why dinna ye look through some of my books on the shelves while I work? I ken ye canna read the words, but there are some verra beautiful illustrations— uh, pictures, drawings— in some of them.” 

Jamie cursed himself for not bringing adequate entertainment for her. Although, beyond Adso, the space heater, and the garden— well, and him, of course— Jamie wasn’t sure what exactly entertained Claire. 

She agreed with only a brief pout, and Jamie could finally let out the breath he’d been holding when she was safely across the room, browsing the bookshelf. Feeling his heart rate finally descend (was it safe for it to be that elevated for that long?) he settled down in front of his computer. 

He managed to get a good chunk of work done while Claire busied herself with flipping through nearly every book he owned. It turned out that it was an excellent idea, as she seemed well entertained. Every once in a while, Jamie would hear a gasp and have to look up to see the adorable expression of wonder on Claire’s face as she discovered another illustration. It was mainly the kids books, he noticed, that really wowed her. Likely because she could follow the story based on the pictures, and she grew absorbed. Before long, there was a semi-circle of opened books surrounding her on the floor. It warmed him to notice that she never closed them— always leaving them open when she found an illustration she particularly liked, as if she wanted to go back and see it again. 

Despite her fascination and apparent entertainment, it was what felt like a short time later when Jamie was interrupted from deep concentration by a hand sliding up his arm to rest on his shoulder. 

“Claire, what are ye—?” he started, but was cut off when both of her hands smoothed over his shoulders. 

“You’re so tense,” came her smooth voice startlingly close to his ear. 

“Aye,”  he said, rolling his shoulders, “I tend tae carry my stress there when I’m workin.” 

“I don’t want you to be tense.” Her breath tickled his ear, and a shiver rolled down his spine. Warm hands began kneading into his shoulders, digging into the soreness of the muscles. Her touch was the perfect mix of gentle and strong, pulling the tension from his body. He couldn’t help the sigh that fell from his lips. 

Her hands didn’t let up their work, but she sometimes paused to smooth over his shoulders in broad strokes. Without meaning to, his hands fell away from the keyboard and his head tilted back. His eyes were closed in relaxation… when had he closed his eyes? 

He realized distantly that Claire was murmuring soothing words above him. 

“Does that feel good? Let out the tension, darling. There. I’ve got you.”

She hit a particularly tense knot, but the magic of her fingers had it loosening after only a second. 

“Oh Lord,” he breathed, feeling like he was in a trance. “Ye’re so good at this. I—”

His eyes suddenly popped open and he bolted up in his chair, “Christ, lass. Ye’re doin’ yer best tae distract me from my work, are ye no’?” 

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, just relax, my love,” she murmured into his ear, pressing down on his shoulders to get him to sit back in his chair again. 

He was onto her game now, though, and reached up to grab her hand and still her. 

“I have tae work, lass.” 

“I’m not stopping you,” she replied. 

The hand he hadn’t seized stroked over his shoulder. Feeling unequipped to the task of arguing with her, Jamie simply let go and brought his hands back to the keyboard. 

Alright, Fraser. This is a simple game. If you stop giving her attention, she’ll get bored and leave ye be. 

He focused all this attention on the computer screen, ignoring her as she continued her ministrations. It wasn’t the best job, but he managed to type out a few sentences before suddenly there were soft lips tracing the shell of his ear. 

Another shiver ran down his spine, and there was a slight tug of teeth on his earlobe before she kissed it again, soothing the spot with a flutter of breath. 

“Sassenach,” he said in a warning tone. 

“What? I’m not stopping you,” she replied innocently before stooping lower to brush her lips— just barely— down his throat. 

“Ye ken verra well that ye are,” he sighed, the sound turning from frustration to pleasure as she hit a particular spot that made his stomach twist. 

Her fingers were tracing just barely under his shirt, tucking themselves inside the collar. She didn’t seem to be listening, or maybe it was just that she didn’t care, because she refused to respond to the protestation. Instead, she breathed out, “Do you know you have beautiful collarbones?” 

“I didna ken, and I thank ye for the observation. May I return to my work now?” Jamie asked, trying to keep the pleading from his tone. 

She hummed to herself, “I’m not standing in your way.” 

Okay. So maybe he wasn’t quite strong enough to ignore it. And she was in no mood to free him from her clutches on her own accord. 

Swivelling so abruptly in his chair that Claire nearly fell over backward in surprise, he faced her. He took her hands in his and brushed his thumbs over the back of her knuckles. 

“Listen, lass. There’s no way I’ll get anythin’ done while ye’re toyin’ wi’ me, and I still have much to do. So let me make ye a deal. Gi’ me one hour wi’out interruptions, and I’ll… well…” Jamie found himself at a loss for bargaining chips. Ifrinn. The lass had him so well in the palm of her hand that he already gave her whatever she wanted. He decided to flip it and open it up to her. “What do ye want? In return?” 

Her eyes flashed with excitement and a twinkle of mischief. Jamie braced himself for some devious declaration or demand for a game that would prove tortuous for his self control, but instead of anything like that, Claire surprised him by smugly requesting, “I want one hour in front of the heater.” 

Jamie nearly laughed out loud. He’d come to realize that the lass thought that the space heater was a precious, exhaustible commodity, not some piece of junk hooked up to electricity. He hadn’t wanted to disavow her of that notion for fear that she’d spend every waking second in front of it instead of with him, and it seemed now it was going to play the situation to his advantage. 

“I think I may be able tae make that happen,” he said slowly, keeping his cards close to his chest. 

“With you!” she added quickly, narrowing her eyes, “for the full hour.” 

“Do we have a deal then?” he asked, putting on his best business face. 

“We have a deal,” Claire nodded primly. 

Rather than a handshake, Jamie opted for a quick peck of lips. As Claire drew away and made to head back toward the bookshelf on the opposite corner of the room, she looked like a cat that got the cream.

Better luck next time, lass. If you wanna bargain, better come knowing what’s of value. 

Feeling smug in his own right, Jamie returned to his work. This time, it wasn’t his girlfriend’s hands on him distracting his mind. Rather, it was the unshakable feeling of fondness that filled his stomach and warmed him to his toes. 

***

“Hey, Jamie?” Claire asked, breaking the silence about 45 minutes into the agreed hour. 

“What is it, a leannan?” 

He tore his gaze from his computer to find Claire looking up at him from where she sat on the floor at the foot of the bookshelf. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and she looked so wee curled up in the corner, shooting him a troubled gaze with eyes that were round as a doe’s. 

“I’m cold.”

Brows furrowing, he abandoned his work— in the middle of a sentence no less— and went to her. She was shivering, despite it being rather balmy in his office. 

His wee faerie, typical. 

“Here, lass.” Jamie stripped off his suit jacket to wrap around her shoulders. She took it gratefully, her hands brushing Jamie’s at the edges. That bit of contact jolted through him, shattering any notions of him returning to his work straight away, and he fell to his knees beside her so he could wrap her in a hug. 

She melted instantly into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, and it was at that moment that he felt her shivering. 

“Christ, lass, ye really are cold,” he burst out in concern. 

“It’s cold,” she repeated, shifting herself within his arms to burrow closer. 

“It’s no’ this cold,” he breathed. 

She didn’t say anything, just trembled against him. She withdrew her hands from around his middle and instead tucked them against his chest between where their bodies were pressed together. 

Jamie bit his bottom lip and repositioned himself to get comfortable. It seemed he was in for a longer break from his work than expected. His heart was beginning to beat faster as anxiety for his love rose in his chest. 

“This is more than temperature, a ghraidh,” he said softly. 

She shook her head where it laid on his shoulder but made no move to raise it and look at him. 

“Ye were fine all mornin’,” he noted quietly as his brain began working in earnest. 

“I’m fine now,” Claire insisted, her voice muffled from where her mouth pressed against Jamie’s shoulder. 

“I dinna think ye are,” Jamie finally said out loud, admitting the fear that had been rattling around inside of him for days now. He’d watched the little things add up, even worried over them, but every time he managed to convince himself it was nothing. Even just this morning he’d thought perhaps everything was in his head. Now, however, it was just another item to add to the growing list that was too long to be coincidence. 

“I told you, Jamie. It’s nothing,” Claire said, her voice gaining an edge to it. “I can feel you worrying.” 

Jamie swallowed thickly. A rush of guilt washed over him, and he wondered whether she could feel that too. Gah! It was impossible not to feel things, especially when it came to her. It was terrifying to know she could read them, and that what he was feeling could make things worse for her. 

“This isna nothin’ Sassenach, but I dinna ken—”

Claire sat up abruptly, pushing herself away from him with two hands planted firmly on his chest until she had gained her distance. Irritation was rising in her as warm spots on her cheeks, and her eyes flashed a darker shade of gold. 

“Don’t tell me about me like you know better than I do,” she said, brows drawing together in frustration. 

“I’m no’, I just—” 

Jamie reached for her, but she batted his hands away. 

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing. If you were tired of trying to warm me up, you could have just said something.” 

She was moving backward now, attempting to put more distance between them, but Jamie reached out to grasp her upper arm, holding her still. Her head whipped toward him, eyes hard and ready to lash out, but Jamie spoke before she could. 

“Please, dinna go,” was all he could think to say. 

It wasn’t like she was actually going to storm out of his office— at least he hoped not— but it still hurt for her to tear herself away like that. He didn’t want to fight.  

Something— perhaps it was his pleading tone, the look on his face, or maybe she could actually feel his distress— made her freeze and give him her attention. 

“I’m sorry if I made ye feel like ye werena my priority, mo ghraidh, because ye are. Always. I would abandon work entirely jes’ tae hold ye in my arms, for however long ye wanted. I’m jes’ worried, lass, I dinna mean to presume I ken more than you do about yer own body. I’m sorry. Please, lass, come here to me?” 

Claire’s eyes filled with tears. She remained stock still, her eyes locked with Jamie’s. There was a long moment where he watched the moisture gather in her eyes and the gears turn in her head as she fought within herself, and then she broke the stillness. She did come to him then, scrambling up into his lap and throwing her arms around him. A wet face pressed into the crook of his neck, and Jamie quickly brought his arms up to hold her, pressing her face into him and feeling relief course through him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know why I lashed out at you, Jamie. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hush, hush, it’s okay, a leannan,” Jamie soothed, carding his fingers through her curls and rocking her back and forth. “Ye’ve had a long day. Ye’ve felt yer share of heartache, met so many new people and seen so many new things, and ye’re tired. Why dinna we head home now, aye?” 

She drew back, blinking tears away from her eyelashes. “Maybe just in a moment?” 

“Of course, Sassenach.” Jamie didn’t need to be an empath to know that she needed a second to gather herself together before she could face the task of exiting the building and encountering whatever people went along with that. 

“Hey, I love you,” Jamie added softly, petting her hair, pulling it back away from her neck over and over. He stretched his thumb so he could smooth over the long muscle of her neck, feeling the soft skin and wishing he were at an angle that he could press a kiss there. 

“I love you, too,” came her quiet response.

***

a/n: Important Update:

Hey friends! So I may be going off the grid a bit later in June, not 100% sure yet. There probably will end up being a brief hiatus for this story, and I wish I could tell you exactly what it will look like, but I don't know yet. I will keep you posted here. Thank you so much for your flexibility and investment in the story, and I'll do my best not to leave you at cliffhangers. While I still have time left, be prepared that updates may get a bit more frequent.

I don’t remember if I’ve announced it on here yet, but I also want to officially say that an Arc III is in the works! I’ve already started writing a bit on it because I’m so excited about it. So don’t worry, even if there is a brief hiatus, there is lots of story left. Thank you for sticking with me!!!

Next

#wooohooo finally managed to write it!!! #all that was fair #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #update #fae claire

[fluffypeachwriting]

Hitoya deserves love, can i request senario when a fem so is upset because she saw a woman (works with Hitoya in office) clinging to him like a leach and reader, please make it from angst to fluff

I don’t know if the ending counts as fluff, but it’s still a happy ending ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ I hope I can do Hitoya justice as he can be kinda hard to write for, especially with angst, which isn’t my forte as of now  (シ_ _)シ This was a fun writing experience though, and I’m happy to get your request!

Either way, I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry you had to wait so long for this  (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

A new employee at Hitoya’s law firm seemed to take a liking to your boyfriend. It started with a few flirty lines, and nothing more. Hitoya never responded to them, and that was fine. He probably didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. The whole situation was easy to brush it off in the beginning, since you were well aware of how attractive Hitoya was, and that anyone could be under his spell.

The woman in question knew about your relationship with Hitoya too. The two of you weren’t super affectionate in public, especially at work, but she definitely saw the way you lovingly looked at him when he brought you a coffee and some cake during your shift, and the way he softly smiled back at you. After all, she sat right across from you. She would wait a few minutes, tapping her nails on the table, and eventually get up to go to his office. Then, after purposefully leaving the door just open enough for you to see, she would perch on his desk and laugh at every word he said, putting her fingertips to her lips in a faux-shy kind of way. The sight made your heart leap up your throat and thump in your ears.

The worst part was that she was pretty cute, looks wise. If you didn’t know anything about her personality, you would have compared her to the sexy love interest option in an anime. She made office wear look good, and you never saw her look undignified. Sometimes she leaned towards a femme fatale-type. That idea was constantly reinforced every time she placed her hand on Hitoya’s arm, playfully swatting at him when he got grouchy, and batted her eyelashes when she wanted something from him.

If she was doing this to literally any other person in the office – hell, some people there would kill to have this woman dote on them – you would probably find it funny. Her attempts at ‘seducing’ him were bordering on comical.

This whole charade wasn’t private. The office was getting annoyed too. Not by you, of course. The woman was pretty good at her little admin job, so any chance of getting her out of the office relied on her stepping over the line with Hitoya.

Hitoya continued to ignore this woman, but he never shooed her away or told her to stop. There was a tiny voice in the back of your mind, whispering nasty ideas into your head – the possibility that Hitoya was actually enjoying this attention couldn’t be shaken off.

One night, as you were both in bed, you rolled over and asked: “Hitoya, do you love only me?”

He replied, without turning to face you: “Hn? ‘Course, whaddya mean?”

“I just… the new girl at work is kinda clingy with you. Can you tell her to knock it off?”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

You sat up in bed and rested your hands in your lap, hesitant to look at Hitoya. “Wait, so you’re gonna defend her? But she’s clearly into you. She knows we’re a thing and… please just tell her to quit it.”

There was a momentary silence, and in the dark room you could almost see the woman in front of you, doing her typical sly giggle. Maybe she had already won.

“You’re worrying over nothing. Go to sleep, you’re probably stressed and tired. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

But it had been many mornings since this all began. The clock read 9:45pm. It was too late to go out for fresh air now, and you had work in the morning.

“Okay, goodnight.” You laid back down in bed and laid on your side, facing away from your partner.

“Goodnight.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying, and waited until you could hear Hitoya’s light snoring before feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. There was a note on your bedside table – Hitoya had gone to work early to prep for a few new prospect hires visiting.

Phew! Maybe that woman wouldn’t have to opportunity to bother him today.

Maybe today would be the start of some normality: with everyone keeping an eye on the visitors, most people wouldn’t be too keen on messing around. As you made some food and coffee, you updated yourself on the work group chat. There wasn’t much of it that concerned you, but seeing people’s elaborate excuses on why they couldn’t come in was amusing. That is, until you saw a message from that woman.

There was a selfie of her in the conference room, with Hitoya in the back, occupied with some papers, with the caption: ‘About to teach some newbies what’s up! Kya ahahaha!’

It was hard not to throw up your breakfast. Getting dressed was a struggle, since you wanted to punch every surface in the room.

They were alone in a room, without you. She could be saying god knows what to him, well aware that you wouldn’t be in for at least another hour.

Rushing to get ready and go to the office was an option, but what good would it do?

All you could picture was Hitoya staring down at you, as you burst through the door, dishevelled from rushing there, chiding you for imagining what you said this woman was doing.

When you came to your senses, you were in the office, bursting through the door, just as you didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Boss?” The receptionist said, looking concerned.

“…Yeah? Where’s Hitoya? And why’d you call me ‘Boss’?”

“You’re basically also our boss too. And I dunno where Boss Boss is but, are you okay? Are you like, super tired?” The receptionist gestured to his clothes, implying that something was wrong with yours.

And there was. Because you were not in your work clothes at all. You had come to the office in a hoodie and sweatpants. In your rush to get ready, you had forgotten about looking presentable.

“Oh shit.”

“Hey, Boss. I know it was an accident, if you slip out and come back soon, I’ll just tell people there was traffic. I got your back.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, thankful that someone was on your side for once.

Right as you turned to leave, a piercing laugh came from the conference room entrance. One that was all too recognisable.

‘Of course she had to see this. Just my luck,’ you thought.

Her heels click-clacked as she came closer.

“Oh sweetie, this is just too much! You think that just because you’re banging the Boss man you can show up in whatever clothes you want? What a pathetic little weirdo…” She looked at the receptionist for agreement but he had turned around in second-hand embarrassment.

You were too miserable to try and act polite to her. You’d had enough. All of that jealously that had been bubbling inside you for what felt like years had finally spilled over.

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of our business for once!? You know we’re in a relationship, so why don’t you just fuck off and leave him alone!? If you’re gonna try and sleep around at least go for single people, you freak!” As you raised your voice, tears started streaming down your face. You didn’t care that it made you look even more of a mess. “The only reason we keep you around here is because you’re good at your job! You belong in hell, you demon!”

No more words could properly express how fed up you were, how much you wanted this woman out of sight. Your hands were clutched tight to your chest, which hurt more by the second. You kept your eyes focused on the floor in fear of her reaction. It wasn’t likely that she’d do a 180 and take pity on you.

Instead, you did a 180 and ran out of the building. You could barely see where you were going, but you knew where you wanted to go.

One turn left, a few crossings straight ahead, a couple of right turns, and you were where you and Hitoya had your first ‘date’: a bench next to a vending machine.

That day, he had planned to take you to a fancy restaurant, but it started raining so hard that you had to take shelter in a convenience store for a while, and ended up missing your reservation. When the sky cleared, Hitoya gave you his jacket to shield you from future showers, and bought a couple of drinks to share. The indirect kiss you shared on that canned coffee gave you the strongest butterflies you’d ever felt.

You wanted to feel that same sunshine on your face as then, and see the same rainbow as then, but the sky was cloudy today. Sitting on the bench with your cheeks resting on your fists, you tried to force your mind back into that honeymoon phase. It all seemed so much simpler then, like nothing could stand between you two. Now everything was dreary. Now it was just you, the pit in your stomach, this convenience store, and passers-by.

Someone was walking a hyper-active dog that tried to jump at you. A lady with a small child asked if you were alright, which was nice. A few teens were out looking to cause trouble, though you didn’t care. A group of kids were meticulously counting their money out loud, and yes, they did have enough money to get a soda and a steamed bun. All of these people, going about their lives, reminded you that even in these times where your world was turning upside down, the rest of the world would go on. Even the guy going on a run was just doing his thing. You didn’t look up, but you could hear him running, then stopping just outside the store.

“There you are.” A familiar deep voice said in-between pants.

Your head snapped up. “Hitoya!?”

Hitoya was there, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“I heard what happened from Yamashita, at the front desk. I knew where you’d be. She’s gone. You don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

“What?”

“That woman. She’s gone. I kicked her out of the firm. I’m sorry for letting it get to this point.” Hitoya flopped beside you on the bench and took your hands in his. He sounded award, like he was having a conversation that was long overdue. “It was messed up on my end to not say anything. I just figured out that that was worse than doing something. I… You know you’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that? I know I don’t say this romantic sappy stuff a lot, but uh, you’re always what I look forward to seeing, like, you’re really cute right now, even in those clothes. I kinda wanna cuddle you. Hey, let’s take the rest of the day off and go home and do that, yeah?”

You were too stunned to reply with words. It was like a dream come true. That toxic bitch was out of your life, and you didn’t have to see her again. Hitoya was yours, and he was ready to confess – in public, no less – that he really did love you.

After a minute of collecting your thoughts, you replied in a croaky voice: “Yeah, let’s go home. To our home.”

Where no-one could come between you.

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hitoya amaguni #hitoya x reader #bad ass temple #reader insert #request #imagine

[stillebesat]

Christmas Eve (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Janus, Patton, Roman, Virgil Pairings: Past Roceit (was toxic), Familial Moceit (Dad Janus, Son Patton) Blurb: Of all the barriers that Janus expected to have to overcome in order to get his son a pet for Christmas, encountering his Ex, Roman, working in the pet store had never once crossed his mind. Fic Type: Christmas!Eve Fic, Past Lovers to Enemies to ??? trope, Dad!Janus, Kid!Patton, Frogmin!Virgil, MythicalMin!AU, Frogmin!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship Talk, Manipulation/Lying Talk, Human-ish Creatures kept as Pets Taglist in Reblog

To Catch Up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Roman regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

The Dameon he knew could spin the truth like a top. His stories sounding so believable that even now, years later, Roman still had very little idea what he actually knew about his Ex...besides the fact that he was a slimy no good lying viper. If he wanted to get a Frogmin for his kid, then Roman was sure Dameon could point to any cage on the shelf, and despite Roman’s years of experience, convince him that whatever cage he picked would be perfectly adequate to hold the Frogmin. 

Oh Crofters, would the Frogmin they picked out be okay going home with them?! He couldn’t remember Dameon being cruel to animals, but the guy had never shown an interest in them either. Sure, Pattey seemed sweet enough but if Dameon was his actual dad then what if it was all just an act. What if--

Dameon huffed, running his fingers through his curly hair, messing it up in a way that Roman had never seen him do when they’d been together. He straightened, briefly meeting Roman’s eyes as he slipped a hand in his pocket, moving a couple of steps down the aisle to give his kid some space to interact with the Frogmins without them hovering.

Reluctantly Roman followed, his attention split between ensuring Pattey wouldn’t reach into the cage and terrorize the Frogmins...and watching his Ex’s every move.

“You and I both know that I could just point to a random cage and convince you I’d bought it elsewhere, but I hope that the picture I took will be more than enough proof that I have the proper setup?” He asked, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it before holding it out to him.

Well...pictures could be faked….but considering Dameon had obviously not expected to see him here...would he have gone so far as to fake a photo? It was possible. He’d done it before to fake several incidents at college parties they’d gone to...but a cage for a new pet for his son? Who would think to fake that? 

Roman exhaled. No. He’d think himself in circles until well past midnight if he tried to read too far inbetween the lines. It was Christmas Eve. Dameon wanted a Frogmin for his son and Pattey seemed genuinely excited to have one. It had to be the truth. He had to believe that. 

For now.

“If you’ve bought some dinky little hamster cage, Dae, I’m not letting you leave here with any creature until you have a proper setup.” He said, taking the phone from him.

Dameon’s eyes flashed, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he glanced over to his son who’d somehow managed to cox basically every Frogmin in the cage closer to him. 

Impressive for a child. It must be those soft honey eyes.  

“I did do some research beforehand.” 

“You know can’t trust everything on Google right?” Roman asked as he zoomed in on the image of the kid, Pattey, standing next to a cage as tall as he was. He had to admit. It was a nice setup. Not the most expensive home for a Frogmin he’d seen, but it was a good middling sort of cage. Multilevel, plenty of foliage, there was even a mister visible from the side to keep the place humid. 

“I did ask multiple store employees as well...but I got differing answers.” 

Typical. Ask more than one person and you’d get more than one answer. Still. It looked like Dae had managed to get the proper stuff. “What sort of pond do you have within? A bowl?” People always tried to use cheap tupperware to make a pond for their Frogmins, but it never worked out well in the long run. 

Dameon scoffed, taking his phone back, fidgeting with it as he turned his head away to stare at a nearby cage of little Nagas. “As if. It’s a filtered thing. Not a waterfall, I couldn’t risk the splashing, but it has running water. Fresh. Takes up half of the floor of the cage, the rest is moss and dirt.” 

Huh. Despite his reluctance to give his Ex any credit...he really hadn’t done half bad. Roman crossed his arms. “Hideout?”

Dameon shrugged. “There’s a rock cave on the ground, a wooden one higher up, and Pattey had me grab a moss hammock four stores ago. Just in case.” 

Four? “....And just how many stores have you been to today?” On Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t he be like...going to some big fancy party or something? Or…at least getting ready for Santa’s arrival? 

Dameon grimaced, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fifteen.” He admitted, keeping his attention firmly on the cage in front of him. 

Roman whistled. Talk about dedication. “Ouch.” 

“Mmm.” His fingers twitched as he glanced to his son, wearing that half smile of his. “No one else in a hundred and fifty miles has them.” 

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. A hundred and FIFTY miles? Dude. Good news. It meant there was a low chance of him ever having to encounter his Ex again after tonight if he drove this far. But Dude. He drove this far? For his son? The Dameon he knew wouldn’t have gone through half as much effort. He would have convinced someone else to do all the work for him instead and then take the credit. 

“Talk about a Hail Mary then coming all the way out here without calling first.” Especially since his store was closing like...right now. “The Mythical Mins have been quite popular this year. You’re lucky my store had the foresight to quadruple our orders.” 

“I did try calling.” Dameon said, holding out a hand to the Nagamins, a flash of wistfulness crossing his face as he watched the minis leisurely slither about within. “After the first two failures...I called the next--oh, six?” He grimaced. “Those who actually answered assured me that they had them in stock--only for us to find that they’d sold out by the time we showed up. I stopped calling after that point. Just looked up the next pet store and drove.”

Wow. That was--- “I didn’t think you’d ever be so persistent. Especially for some kid.” Wait. Roman blanched. That came out so wrong--

Dameon’s eyes flashed with all too familiar anger as he whirled to him, his hands clenching. “He’s not some kid, Roman, he’s my son. And as cliche as it is...I would move heaven and earth to make him happy.” 

Roman jerked his hands up. “I didn’t mean--” Yeesh. And he was hoping to avoid triggering Dameon’s temper. He just hadn’t expected his Ex to be...that protective. Of course, he just hadn’t ever seemed the type to...settle down either. “That came out wrong.” His words were usually wrong in some fashion when Dameon was present. “Honestly, I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t.” 

Dameon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, the anger unexpectedly vanishing as quickly as it had sparked. “The eyes right?” He raised a hand to his own golden ones.

“Well...yah. They’re practically the same.” Unfortunately. Though on the kid it was cute instead of terrifying. 

He dropped his hand. “Yah...well you saw it quicker than I did.” He looked back to Pattey. 

Roman blinked. “Wait. You--”

Dameon huffed, shaking his head. “It took me...a bit...to believe he was mine.” He said in a low voice.

Roman scoffed “You saw his eyes and you didn’t--weren’t you expecting him?! Weren’t you there for his birth?”  Hadn’t Dameon just said he would move heaven and earth for the kid? He would have thought--

His Ex ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up further before he gestured to himself. “Do I look like--No. I--I’d--I’m---” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how I was, Ro--I didn’t--” 

Was. Roman raised an eyebrow. He’d never heard Dameon stutter this much since...well, their first meeting. “And you were always so eloquent.” Flowery words, hidden meanings, barbed compliments. He’d lost more sleep to figuring out just what Dameon had actually said to him and what potential meanings his words held during college than he ever had over studying for finals. 

Dameon rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Those were fighting words, Roman knew. 

Yet his Ex didn’t rise to the bait. He hunched his shoulders, visibly taking a deep breath before relaxing his hands. “I’m not like that anymore. I’ve chan--” He cut off grimacing.

“....You’ve changed.” He’d heard that particular phrase a dozen times in college. Yet this time...it seemed just a tad more...believable. 

 Dameon exhaled, giving a slight shake of his head before meeting his eyes. “I’m trying to be a better person...and even if I wasn’t,” he gestured to his son, “I would much rather walk out of here with a Frogmin than without one for his sake.” 

Wouldn’t any parent? At least the ones who wanted to prevent a meltdown. Roman tilted his head to the boy. “He is a cute kid.” Despite who his Father was. 

“He is.” Daemon said, that fond half smile appearing on his lips again without any sign of the malice Roman was familiar with. “Some days...I wonder how I got so lucky.” 

Yah...karma had obviously gotten mixed signals there. 

Mentally Roman kicked himself. And that was how he’d end up getting the three Christmas ghosts visiting him tonight. Sure. He was still obviously bitter about his Ex. But he knew people could change. Just because he couldn’t picture Dameon being a good Dad, didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Not when the apparent proof was standing right before him. “Well...it seems like Fatherhood has done you some good.” 

Red tinged Janus’s cheeks as he raised a single eyebrow. “Is it really that hard to believe? That I could be a good dad?”

Had he ever looked back on their college years? The list of why he wouldn’t be a good dad could easily fill three books. 

But. Roman tilted his hand back and forth. “I only ever knew Liar Dae.” He said simply. 

There was still a chance he was still talking to him right now, though from what he’d seen so far he’d like to believe otherwise.  

Dameon grimaced. “Right.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Right. I--” 

“DADDY!! PRINCEY!!!” Pattey squealed as he rushed towards them, his hands held up high to show them a tiny figure with purple and black spots hanging on to his fingers for dear life. “I GOT MY FROGMIN!”

Roman blinked, mouth dropping open as he recognized the rebelliously reclusive Frogmin who had sworn over a year ago that he would never go home with any human.

“Virgil?” He whispered taking a half step forward as Dameon dropped to his knees in time to catch his son before he could run face first into their legs. 

“He picked me, Daddy!!” He picked me!” Pattey cried, practically vibrating with excitement as Dae quickly brought his hands up to surround his son’s, keeping the little emo Frogmin from being jostled further. 

“That’s great, Pat!” His Ex said as his cool golden eyes gave the Frogmin a once over, his fingers twitching on his son’s hands. 

Roman made a soft sound in the back of his throat as the Frogmin hissed, ducking down out of sight. 

Yah. That was Virgil alright. The hiss was his trademark sound after he’d learned it from Roman’s own Min, Logan. But why would he come out of his dark little corner to--how had Pattey even convinced him?! Roman himself had tried every trick in the book to warm the dark and stormy emo of a Frogmin up to the idea of being owned by a human.

Nothing had worked.

Though Roman couldn’t remember ever offering spiders as a bribe before. Was that honestly all that it would have taken? A different food source? 

“Virgil?” He asked again, biting his lip as his voice elicited another hiss from the Min and the unwelcome attention of his Ex. 

Dameon looked up, eyes flashing. “Is there a problem?” He asked in such a Karen tone that Roman automatically bristled at it. 

“Ye--No? NO!” He said slashing his hand across his chest in denial. 

Dameon huffed, his hands remaining steady on Pattey’s as he half turned to him, giving him the look. “Roman.” 

Roman glowered at his name, baring his teeth in what could barely be called a smile. “I said, NO, Dameon.” He said working to keep his tone even and obviously failing by how his eyes sharpened. “It’s just that Virgil’s never wanted to go home with anyone before. I’m--” Worried. Surprised. Concerned. Curious. The list could go on forever. He knew Virge after all. And there had been plenty of kids just like Pattey -besides the golden eyes- who’d wanted Frogmins before and Vee had never shown himself to them.

A variety of emotions flashed across Dameon’s face too fast for him to process as his Ex tilted his head, staring at him in such a way that Roman was sure he was analyzing every word he used and movement he’d made. “Worried he won’t be a good fit?” He asked, his tone more mild than Roman had been expecting as he dropped his hands from his son’s, though he could hear a hint of bitterness to it.

He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But--- Roman exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he held out his other hand, tilting it back and forth. “Honestly...Virgil probably likes me about as much as I like you.” He said, watching as Dameon winced.  

“And that means...?”

What else did Dae expect him to say? Their relationship had been toxic. Before ten minutes ago, Roman would have said that all he felt for Dameon was utmost hatred.

Now though? 

It was...it was all so muddled. He was seeing a side of Dae that he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what to think. “Soo--” 

“It means we’ll be besties!!” Patton cried, honey eyes positively lighting up as he bounced in place, eliciting another hiss from the Frogmin. “I’ll be the Prince and Virgil will be the Dragon Witch and together we’ll defeat the evil Aaraog and we’ll all live happily ever after! Right Prince Roman?” Pattey beamed at him, holding his hands out, fingers uncurling so that he could see Virgil. 

The Frogmin growled, dark hair falling in front of his mismatched eyes before he adjusted his legs, jumping to the boy’s shoulder.

Pattey let out a giggle, scrunching up his shoulders. “Vee, that tickles!!”  

Roman let out a breath as Virgil ducked down into the collar of the boy’s jacket. A Happy ending huh? “...Right….That.”

Daemon’s own smile was rather brittle as he stood, ruffling his son’s hair. “Soo…” He said echoing Roman’s tone of voice as he looked up, eyes for once not looking cold and calculating, but...resigned? “It looks like Virgil here wants to come home with my son.” He said, gesturing to the Frogmin peering out from Pattey’s jacket. “Is there paperwork or something I need to fill out for him or--?” 

Right. No need to drag out this conversation any longer now the kid had chosen his new pet. “Yes. You’ll need to fill out forms and Virgil--” He cut off as the Frogmin hissed giving him the middle finger. He tsked. Now that wasn’t appropriate for a child to see.  “Virgil.”  

The Frogmin shook his head, spots slightly glowing as he glowered at him. “No Box, Princey.” He said, with a slight echo to his voice. 

Princey? Roman pursed his lips together. Of course the Emo Nightmare chose to finally speak to him now that he was leaving the store. Typical. A true Christmas Miracle. Logan would be so proud to hear that the little EmoFrogmare had finally broken his silence to Roman. 

Pattey reached up, cupping his hand protectively around the Frogmin as he gave Roman the saddest puppy dog look he’d seen this holiday season with the watery eyes, trembling lip and everything. “Vee can stay with me right? I’ll keep him warm.” 

Yes, but-- “You know that’s not our policy, Vir--” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as Virgil let out an even longer hiss sounding like an agitated rattlesnake. “Fine. Fine. But if you fall and break your leg it’s not my fault.” 

Dameon coughed into his hand, doing a poor job of hiding his smile as Virgil flashed him a thumbs up, curling up against Pattey’s neck as the boy gasped, eyes going wide. 

“No! No breaking! He’ll stay Safe!! Virgil is MY PROTECTOR!! He’s eating the spiders!” He said, shaking his head hard enough that the Frogmin would have fallen if the kid’s hand hadn’t been right there for him to cling to with his little sticky fingers. “Promise!” 

And this was the boy EmoFrogmare wanted to go home with? Roman didn’t understand at all. He raised an eyebrow as Vee settled once more on Pattey’s shoulder. “That’s good. Just be careful alright?”  

Virgil hissed in response, baring his teeth at them.

“He really doesn’t like you does he?” Daemon commented in a low voice.

Roman rolled his eyes, gesturing for his Ex to follow him to the checkout counter so he could grab the proper forms. “Nope.” He said, popping the P. It was kinda irritating too. He could charm all the other Mins in the store and get them more comfortable and out of their shells before going to their new homes, but Virgil had never warmed up to him. 

Dameon gave him a crooked smile. “I’m sorry.”

Roman stiffened at the unexpected third apology falling easily from the snake’s lips. How could he say it now for something that wasn’t even his fault when he couldn’t even apologize for--for...everything that had happened between them back in college? 

He shook his head, waving it away. “Don’t be--well you can be once you pay for him.” He said, jabbing a finger in his Ex’s direction before pulling out the forms and a pen. “Then his bad behavior is on you, not me.”

To Be Continued.  Part 5

#Christmas Eve #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Janus #Patton #Virgil #Creativity #Deceit #Morality #Anxiety #Dad!Janus #Kid!Patton #Frogmin!Virgil #MythicalMin!AU #Frogmin!AU #past toxic relationship talk tw #manipulation talk tw #lying talk tw

[asherlockstudy]

Uncomfortable close-up to their Valentine Newlywed answers

Since Rhett was a tad reluctant to compliment Link sincerely I decided to use my psychoanalytical skills (anyway whatever) and seek the underlying honest answers they wanted to give. This could be a bit much at times and perhaps you shouldn't read if you are not a Rhink shipper, that's why I used a cut.

"What he loves about me" Link's expression is a little confusing - maybe an attempt at doubt or self-deprecation but it looks to me more like the embarrassment of the blushing bride.

"I love your..."

Who wants to bet that the first thing that came to Rhett's mind was ass but then he changed it to the first word that came to his mind after ass? A-ccent. Like, there's just no case accent was the first thing he thought because Link's accent isn't even that strong at this point. When Link got surprised at that, Rhett simply replied that he was trying to find something funny. But even so, like I said earlier, Rhett does love Link's accent. I am sure he is fond of it, he finds it adorable. And let's not forget he said "there was so much he could choose from"!

Link looks disappointed that it's not his guess, his eyes. An interesting thing here is that although he used a personality trait for Rhett, he expected / hoped for this physical trait for himself. But don't feel sorry - Rhett has talked about his baby blues and has even gone to the ridiculous extents of planning to make a blog exclusively for Link's eyes. So don't worry; it is known that Rhett at least acknowledges the beauty of Link's eyes. At least. And Link was expecting this from a place of knowledge and not as an attempt to be silly-sappy.

Things Rhett thinks Link loves about him:

voice (Link will later say he loves his laugh and this is close, he's also enchanted every time Rhett sings so...)

height (Link once said he is attracted to "people of extreme heights")

hair (we know that)

beard (lie detector test)

giving spirit (lol totally)

creativity (they've talked about this many times)

eyebrows (if Link has said he likes Rhett's eyelashes then liking his eyebrows is certain)

Rhett was guessing from a place of knowledge too.

Rhett then said he loves stories of Link's grandma doing weird things with him and I don't like being the weirdo to spell out the weird thing but Rhett's interest in that is vaguely associated to his weird mind being always in the gutter. I don't mean it turns him on of course but he loves hearing weird stuff that border on creepy. You know it's true. Sometimes he's like that. Link took revenge for the accent joke with the psoriasis.

Wow we saw some Rhett teeth. Link answered sincerely with a super cute "I love your laugh" but Rhett just said "I love the sound your mouth makes when you don't chew". Oh well. Link regretted being sincere and Rhett, after some good laughter, defended himself by saying "he (Link) walked himself into it". This makes exactly zero sense and I am wondering whether he meant Link walked himself into it by choosing the vulnerable / sincere way. Or if he just didn't know what he was talking about.

Rhett then asks for the next answer to be complimentary. He then repeats he has strong feelings about Link's accent. Again, I believe this! In a positive light. IDK, I do believe this. Link said he has strong positive feelings for Rhett's car which I found weird like Rhett because I thought it was established Link has the better car of the two. Who knows, maybe he lied about the positive thing. Unless he connects it in his mind with memories / experiences.

Link's guess a little later:

Link: If I wanted to, I could easily... start over.

Rhett: Start over?! Like, whole life?

L: ...Yeah, just like, get a re-do.

R: Huh.

L: And I would be like "Really? How?"

R: Mmkay. I said "If you wanted to, you could easily kill me".

Okay, this gets a little deeper. I think what initially Link meant was a joke about starting over regarding his relationship with Rhett. Rhett didn't get that and asked him if he meant his whole life. Link considered that "mmyeah..." and realised it wasn't that far off from what he meant, all jokes aside. Link does wish he could start over and redo many things in his life. This surely has A LOT to do with their religious upbringing. And maybe how it affected Link's choices. Stevie's laughter is so out of place sometimes. Rhett does not laugh and tries to rush this moment. Rhett's answer about Link killing him is not exactly weird or offensive or mean as I saw some people consider it. It shows, maybe subconsiously, several things; Link's intensity, Rhett's pliable nature especially to Link and it might be more indicative of how Rhett feels about Link than anything else, at least in this video.

And then, out of nowhere, or maybe so it seems to us, Rhett goes ballistic against everyone. He starts complaining about those complaining when they didn't give each other heartfelt compliments. Link joked he agrees with them. Rhett attempted to let this slip although it angered him. The crew laughed with Link's joke, meaning they kinda sided with him, and Rhett turned basically mad at Link.

He accused Link that he did the same that day and Link entirely deflected the conversation. All I'm gonna say is that don't think they don't communicate with each other about how they approach certain situations. I wonder if at times they misunderstand each other or one changes opinion suddenly and leaves the other hanging. Link tries to stop Rhett from going on but Rhett is unstoppable at this point.

You might say Rhett was straight out mean right there and I sure was like "whoa where did this all come from, man" but mean is not a reasonable explanation. He was angry and his words show he is in a pressured state. Unless you tend to have mood swings, which Rhett doesn't really have as far as I know, you don't go from all cutesy and mischievous to furious in milliseconds. Except if there is an underlying suppressed cause. And you may ask, okay does he feel pressured to say a compliment to Link? Is this such a big deal? Well, yes and no. I don't think Rhett meant "we're not gonna hold hands" or "compliment each other" when we ask it. I think we know what he means. I think he's talking about the - well, in his words - elephant in the room. The actually serious consideration that there is something more there. The expectation that it might get revealed at any point - whether intentionally or unintentionally. Rhett loses control at that moment, which is why Link, who knows him well, warns him to not go there but Rhett still does. And again, you might say: well, no fan asked them to kiss or to confirm anything! We asked them simple stuff that can be normal between platonic friends too. Yes, but there is something we don't take often into account. The mythical crew. The mythical crew are actually the ones who monitor closely what the fans believe, want and prefer to watch. This means that the crew has to inform and discuss with Rhett and Link how much they are gonna please the audience and in what ways. Which means that a crew of 50+ people have an elaborate opinion on what fans think of Rhett and Link's relationship (next to their own opinion of course) and this has to be communicated with them face to face. In short, Rhett and Link have their privacy invaded not only by the fans but by their employees and, moreover, they are forced to always have fun with it and take it lightly. Again, you could think: well, they could forbid any rhink reference to the crew from now on. And you would think this WOULDN'T make the crew MORE suspicious at this point? All I am saying, they are fine when they make rhink insinuations / jokes voluntarily but most of the time is forced upon them by both the fans and employees and this can be uncomfortable at best if they are just friends or tyrannical if there is something more there that they still keep for themselves. So, Rhett's frustration comes from a deeper place than being expected to give a compliment. If I were in their place as I imagine it (I could always be entirely wrong) I would feel like a muppet trying to balance all my reactions towards thousands of people, with several dozens of them being paid by me to scrutinize me and order me how exactly to act!

There is a cut following Rhett's vent and you can see that Rhett is trying to calm himself down.

He speaks to himself, mumbling "yeah alright yeah ok ok" and by the expressions I can tell he acknowledges he lost control. That doesn't mean he regretted what he said - just that he said more than it benefits him to say and apparently he said a lot more in the unedited video. Kudos then to Link, who actively tries to calm his friend down and make him feel more comfortable.

This might be unpleasant to some but from his stance I conclude that Link agrees with Rhett or at least understands him. He was just wise enough to not say it out loud. Link first warned Rhett to not speak and then stayed quiet as Rhett was venting. After the cut, we see him trying to help Rhett calm down and relax and he characteristically invites Rhett to focus his attention on him and find something he really loves about him. This is not a complaint - Link is smiling and is warm to Rhett. What he essentially does is trying to help Rhett forget he is being watched by thousands and his every word is weighted, which of course is Rhett's main problem. He just says "forget about them and focus on me and just say something you love, it's all good". I just love Link here. He's supportive and caring.

The next question is what Link loves when Rhett blanks his blank and Rhett is trying to picture it-

I have no doubt Link loves that. The ear thumbing, I mean.

So, then I am adding the stills that redeemed Rhett in the fandom:

But not to be that person, it's obvious that Rhett plays it up a ridiculous lot. And not even to appease the angry fans but probably to make fun of their anger. That's why Link laughs with his face and his answer "I love remembering the time we met".

This doesn't interest me at all. Instead, I am much more interested in Link's nonsensical answer "I love remembering the time we died" because what?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Link tends to say occasionally stuff that doesn't make sense but I don't think he would pass on the chance to say something even remotely meaningful in an opportunity like this and especially regarding his relationship with Rhett. Link clarifies: "...when we died. This is heaven". There are two possibilities and only two: a) this makes ZERO sense and it's the worst and most pointless joke ever and b) this is symbolic or something only Rhett could understand. Rhett does not dismiss this as stupid or silly with his usual done look. He asks questions about it and they discuss at length about how it happened that they died and why they went to heaven since it seems they killed each other. Well, it's because they killed each other in the exact same time with a prod-like tool and they escaped Good Ol' God's (in Link's words) notice. Okay. I'm just leaving this here and you can all draw your own conclusions. Personally, I am torn between a symbolical death and rebirth when they left their religious selves behind and death being used as a well known old metaphor of a certain physical state. It would work even more if it was both. Or Link was just talking nonsense. Let's not exclude that. So yeah. That's all I had to say................

#rhink #rhett mclaughlin #link neal #gmmore #good mythical more #don't read if you don't like rhink #mythical corner #mythical

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america imagine #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #writing challenge #mcu #avengers #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one-shot #natasha romanoff #clint barton #reader insert #a cup of truth #anika ann

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

#starker #starker fic #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #spider man #spiderman #iron man #ironman #ironspider #adult peter parker #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #AO3 fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 fan fic #fan fic #ao3 #TMPfic #kimwrites #kinkybeankim

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 4  

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Gun violence, child death, suicide, suffocation, cliffhanger

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess 

~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure about this, (L/N)?" 

"Positive. It's all in the details. We needed to narrow down the suspects, and considering how this woman didn't just shoot these men, and the drugs aren't cheap, I had to make the connection." You insist, placing the map in front of Hotch and putting a finger on the highlighted neighborhood. Garcia had printed it out for you quickly so you could show Hotch and hopefully catch this bitch. 

"It matches the profile in that our unsub is still a medical worker, just in a place where schooling isn't required. Such as a long-term care facility or an urgent care." Spencer cut in, backing up your statement. 

Hotch sighed and looked from you to Spencer. "Alright, have Garcia run the profile by the urgent care near the neighborhood. See if it matches any of their employees. If we get any matches, we'll send out a few people to scout her house." He says, turning around and leaving the room as soon as he had walked in. 

Pretty soon afterwards, you were alone with Spencer again. Not that you didn't  to be.  

"That was good work." He spoke up, gathering the map and papers up from the table. "You wanna call Garcia or should I?" He adds after a moment. 

You keep your head down, afraid that if you look him in the eye he'd be able to see all of the covert thoughts you had about him. Even through the seriousness of this case, your mind wandered back to what had occured just days before. You were still unsure as to what he had meant by any of it. No matter how hard you tried to play it off as just an accidental touch, your heart wouldn't let you. 

You nervously pull a strand of loose hair behind your ear and chuckle to distract Spencer from your lack of looking him in the eye. "I-I can do it. Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

You might've been looking down, but you still caught the wide smile that Spencer flashed towards you. "Of course. You'll sleep when we get home though." He insists, playfully pointing at you. 

"I dunno, I might just live off coffee like my favorite Doctor." You tease, picking up your now cold coffee cup and taking a sip. 

You heard a few footsteps, but no reply. Which confused you. Until you turned your head and finally met Spencer’s eyes that stared intently into yours. 

"Oh, so I'm your favorite now? If I'm your favorite, you should listen to me." He says softly, standing so closely to you and giving you the most intense look with his brown, hazel eyes. You couldn't look into them, no matter how much you wanted to. 

It took you longer than expected to finally respond, but when you did you felt like a flopping fish out of water. "B-but w-what if I don't want to? What if… I prefer coffee to sleep?" He had you in his hands almost like putty. And you knew he could mold you any way he wanted. You just hoped he didn't know that. 

"You sure about that? Did you know that if a strong enough emotion is felt, your voice betrays you if you try to deny it?" You can feel your inner resolve crumbling. And he wasn't even doing anything! He was probably just trying to get you to take care of yourself. Which you should. But you just had to be a brat about it. "It's actually really interesting, we usually go for the facial expression one gives off, but most people can learn to fake an emotion through their face. But the voice…"

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest by now. You could feel his breathing against your neck. He was so damn close! And you had nowhere to run because of his damn legs. He'd catch you in an instant. You gulped and looked him back in the eyes. What were you doing? 

"The voice can't really be trained to not give away how a person feels. Especially when it's strong enough. Now tell me, when did you get the confidence in the last three minutes and 43 seconds to look me in the eye again?" He finally backed away, raising an eyebrow at you as you finally straightened your posture and tried to compose yourself. 

You stayed quiet however, unsure of whatever could be appropriate to respond with to that tone of voice. What was he doing? You wanted so bad to lean forward, take his soft, thick lips in yours and push him against the stale countertops inside the police station. 

"I-I… I gotta c-call Garcia. I'll let you know if we get any matches." You almost feel like kicking yourself as you back away from him and practically flee the room. This was getting to be too much. Were you reading too much into your and his interactions? Or was this really something that he wanted to try? 

You couldn't trust your own feelings anymore. So you did the next best thing: you called Garcia. You hoped that maybe you could chat a little more after you gave Garcia the addresses and the urgent care to go through. You had to talk to somebody and she was the only person that you had gotten the feeling that she wouldn't tease you for how you felt. 

"Hello my lovely! Decided to call me finally? What can I do for you my fine furry friend?" Garcia asks cheerfully. You couldn't help but smile at how happily she greeted you. And she had only just met you. 

"Yeah, sorry Penelope

Everyone else has been calling you for me. So now it's my turn." You tease. "Anyway, I thought maybe we were looking at the income of our unsub the wrong way." 

"Ooh, thinking outside the box, I likey. Whatcha got, Darling?" 

"The neighborhood I had you highlight, I want you to cross reference the residents with the people who work at the urgent care nearby. If any fit, run the profile by their employer. I think we may be able to catch this woman after all." 

"Oh I love the way you think. I'll get on that at godspeed my queen. Garcia out-" 

"Wait-!" You interject, sighing gently. 

"Oh? Can I help you with something else, your gorgeous highness?" Garcia asked, and you could hear the eyebrow wiggle. Guess that's what you got from hanging out with Gabriel too much. 

"Okay, uh, I gotta tell somebody about this before my mouth explodes all my secrets. You think you can keep it?" You ask nervously. You wanted to trust this woman so badly. You needed a girlfriend who didn't put you down for dating any guys. Or liking any for that matter, like Iris.

"Oh, some gossip! I will keep my lips sealed with superglue my lovely! Now tell me all the juicy details!" 

You giggle and look around, being sure no one but Garcia could hear you. "Okay… I don't know what the hell is going on with Reid but… I kinda like him. He's cute, I'll admit it. I used to do some hacking and I found pictures of him. He was my celebrity crush. But make it FBI." You ranted. "And now I'm getting mixed signals from him. Like just a couple days ago, his hand like--brushed against my hip as I went to try and help him with the geographical profile, and he was so damn close!" You hiss into the phone. "A-and today? He got super close again. And he practically had me trapped. But other than that, I don't get any other signs that maybe he might like me. Even if he's just attracted to me. So you can understand my dilemma." You sigh, leaning against the wall. 

Garcia was quiet for a few moments, making you worried that she was going to judge you or put you down for being so stupid. Then you had to pull the phone away from your ear for a few seconds as Garcia squealed. 

"Oh my god I knew it! You two totally hit it off when you came in here for your first day!  I knew there was something there! It's totally okay to feel like that. I don't know what you see in that boy, but go after him like the queen you are." She insists. 

"Heh, I dunno if I'll do anything yet. I want to see if things go anywhere first. Even if he just wants to be friends. I just want to be sure I'm not adding another embarrassing memory that I will never forget. But thanks Garcia."

"Of course my sweetness. That's what I'm here for. Other than being the techie for the FBI." She says sweetly. 

"I gotta go, let me know if there are any matches." You finally lead off. 

"Of course! Wait, hold on," 

"What is it?" 

"You'd think the search would massively decrease the amount of suspects, right? Well all of the suspect-women in this neighborhood, are working at this urgent care. It's like single mom central." Garcia answered, typing away on her computer. 

"That's alright, thanks Garcia. Run that by the employer with the new list of names anyway, see if he'll give any of them up." You say. 

"Will do. Talk soon!" 

You can't help but smile to yourself as she hangs up. She really was untameable. Not that you would want to. 

You turn your head and begin to head down the station hallway as you see Reid race out of the room with the evidence. 

"He-hey! What's going on?" You ask in a mild panic. 

"We have a witness, the unsub tried to kill again." 

○●♡●○

"Any information at all would help, Mr.Greeley." You assure, sitting in front of the man in the chair with his head laid against the table. 

"I want my wife. I want my son." He says in a hiccuped tone. 

"I know, sir. But if you can give us any distinguishing features it can help us narrow down our suspects to find her." You assure again, laying a gentle hand on his. 

"Are they on their way?" He asks, looking at you with sore, red eyes. 

"Yes sir. We've called some of the nearby officers to come bring them. Alright?"

The door to the room opens and you both look up, seeing Prentiss join the two of you. "Everything okay?" She asks. 

"Yeah, he's just shaken up. Who wouldn't be?" You say, sighing. "Darren, would you be up to having a sketch artist come in here? If you don't feel up to sharing what she looked like that's fine." You turn and ask the newest almost-victim. 

"No it… I can give you a few things. She… she had dirty blond hair. It was… messy. Her skin was pale, her fingers were calloused. A-and… her eyes were brown. Oh god her eyes…" he whispered, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm deeply sorry this happened to you. This information will greatly help the investigation. We will find this woman. Do you still feel okay with the sketch artist coming in?" Emily asked, gesturing towards the door. Silently, the man nodded. You stood up and nodded to Emily, leaving the room to bring the news to everyone else. 

"Did he see her?" Morgan asks, walking up to you from the semi-circle the team had formed near the room you had been talking with the victim. 

"Yeah. Got a good look at her too. Apparently she missed his blood entirely and poured the drugs onto her shirt instead of injecting him with it. So when she pushed him to the ground he got to see her eyes. Garcia's working on faxing us the photos now, see if the sketch will match anything." You nod to him, noticing the fax machine beginning to run. 

Once the photos were faxed, you carried them over to the desk Reid was currently leaning against. You dropped them onto the surface and sighed. "About 23 women, and one description that is super common. How fast do you think we'll get stuck?" You ask him, giving Spencer a teasing look. 

"I doubt we will. Once we narrow these women down to what he saw, we can show them in a line-up fashion. See which one sparks a memory." Reid assures, looking down at the photos and closing the file in his hands. 

"I cannot imagine being this woman and thinking that I should kill these men because they just became fathers. I mean, I can understand her not wanting other women to have to deal with becoming single mothers because their partners decide to skedaddle. But still, give him a chance first." You rant, beginning to sort through the photos by whether or not the suspects fit the description. 

"True. However in her state of mind she probably views all men the same. That they'll all eventually leave her. Maybe her father left too." Spencer suggests, taking a few photos and sorting them with you once he noticed the pattern. 

"That could be true. But I guess we won't know until we get a match-" you sigh. 

Emily hurried out of the interview room and carried a sketch pad with her. "Here," she says, placing the drawing paper in front of you. "Do any of the suspects look like her?" 

You push the unlikely suspects pile of photos away, about to find Emily her answer, when Spencer spoke up for you. 

"Yes, she was one of the first women you sorted." He says, flipping through the pile faster than you ever could and pulling out a photo. "Here, this is her." He says. 

"Let's get this photo back to Garcia, see if she can get us a name." You cut in, standing up and picking up the forgotten pictures. Emily nods to you and heads off to fax the photo back to Garcia. 

○●♡●○

"What do you got, baby girl?" 

"We got a name, Kathy Burgess. She's a single mother, recently gave birth to her son Jason about 7 months ago and--oh my god…" Garcia trails. 

"What is it Garcia?" You ask, hurrying your feet towards the SUV's. She hadn't given you all an address yet, but it wasn't too late not to get ready to head out. 

"Her husband was killed in Afghanistan 3 months ago after being deployed the week before her son was born. He had left them for another woman, who ended up getting pregnant." Garcia answered. 

"Do you have an address Garcia?" Hotch asked. 

"Y-yes, 176 Washington Blvd." 

"Let's go." Hotch announces, pulling out his radio and letting the rest of the team and police know. 

○●♡●○ 

You pulled into the road followed by a SWAT van, unknowing what was going to meet you behind this woman's door. You all piled out of the SUV's and headed towards the building. 

"Is she here? Do we know for sure?" You ask, unholstering your gun and making sure it was loaded. 

"She has to be. She has nowhere else to hide. Neighbors reported her coming home about 30 minutes ago." Hotch answered, beginning to fasten on his bullet proof vest. "I need Morgan and Reid to head in first, try and see if you can get the child out first." 

"Wait, Hotch," you begin. 

"What is it?" 

"Kathy has been killing men because she doesn't trust them. So I don't think she's going to listen to Morgan or Reid. Why don't I go in? Try to negotiate with her. It'll get us more time to find a clear shot of her if she decides to retaliate." You reason. 

"I don't know (L/N). You haven't gotten much experience with negotiating yet." 

"Which is why I should start now. I… I may not know what it's like to have a child and then have the father walk away on me, but I know what it's like to feel abandoned and unwanted." You plead. Reid looks at Hotch hesitantly, turning his attention to you after a moment. 

"She is right, Hotch. She's not gonna get any experience unless we let her." Morgan encourages. 

"Alright. Keep her occupied. Try to negotiate with her. After five minutes, we'll head in after you." 

You nod to Hotch and immediately grab a bullet proof vest, fastening it around your button down shirt you had packed and worn today. It was getting later and later, the sun was about a half hour from setting. You didn't have much time to get her out of there before light was a problem. 

You then headed into the building, easing the burgundy wooden door open as you stalked inside. You aimed your pistol in each direction you looked. This building was a two story. You didn't know the layout, so you had to make it up as you went. 

Once the lower level was cleared, you headed up the stairs, pushing open the door to the master bedroom and the bathroom before you found yourself in front of the only other room upstairs. You sighed and eased the door open. 

Immediately Kathy turned around, clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest while clutching a gun in her other hand. "Don't get any fucking closer! I-i'll shoot him!" She threatened, aiming her gun at the small child in her hands. 

"Ma'am, put the gun down, I just want to talk." You say, holding your hands up. "I'm just going to put my gun away, alright?" You cautiously alert her, putting the gun into your holster again. Pretty soon the gun in Kathy's hand gets trained on you. 

"Leave us alone-I just wanted to save other women from this fate-!" Kathy says shakily, the gun in her hand wavering it's aim. 

"I know, Kathy. What your husband did to you was unfair. But what you did to those women and their husbands is worse. Those men didn't want to leave their children." 

"They would've! All men do it! Harris did! My father! My brother! Every man I've ever known has walked out on me! How would I have known that they wouldn't walk out on them too?!" Kathy screeches, tears building up in her eyes. 

"Kathy, there are plenty of men in the world who would never walk out on a partner or their baby. You can't stereotype them all to be the same. Put the gun down, and I'll get you and your son some help." You assure, taking a step forward. You heard the stairs creaking behind you. You were too late. 

"Who is that?!" Kathy asks, waving the gun towards you more threateningly. 

"Don't worry about them, just focus on me." 

"No! They're all men! All men lie! All men leave! My son's left me too!" She wailed, clutching at the baby in her arms. 

You widen your eyes at her confession, becoming too stunned to listen for Hotch. "Kathy… what did you do?" You ask.

"Kathy Burgess, put the gun down and come with us quietly. We don't want any harm." Hotch called to her. You widen your eyes farther. You had her so close why did they have to come in now- 

"No! All you men do is lie! Lie lie lie!" Kathy ranted, hitting the barrel of the gun against her head. "But I won't let you win again." She says darkly. You begin to jump into action, but it was too late. 

As soon as you took another step, Kathy trained the gun onto herself and shot through her chin, splattering blood against the wall. You race over and catch her falling child before it can hit the ground, slamming your own chest in the process. 

You stand up, holding the child, but feel an absence of warmth. You furrow your brow, a pit of worry in your chest beginning to grow heavier as each of the signs come together. 

You feel a crack form in your heart as you clutch the tiny, blue-faced child in your arms. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. If only you had gotten here sooner. The body was still a bit warm. Meaning she had suffocated him recently. If only you had reached her and convinced her to put him down. 

"(L/N), (L/N) is something wrong with-" you hear Reid begin, causing the hurt in your chest to magnify. You feel your lip tremble as you push past the genius and carry the child down the stairs, never letting go of his tiny body. 

Reid must've taken the hint, as you heard him tell Hotch as you took the stairs to the bottom floor. You had seen your brother in this child. His little curly tuff of hair was something you had only seen in your younger brother. This was too personal. It was like holding a dead version of him in your arms. 

You carried the child out of the house, closing your eyes tightly as the paramedics, who had been called, tried to approach you and take the child. 

"Ma'am, ma'am we have to take him-" the paramedic began to explain, depleting the amount of control you cared to have over your response in an instant. 

"There's no point, she suffocated him at least 5 minutes before I got to her." You answered, snapping just a tad. 

The woman in front of you sighed, directing the rest of her team to head inside. "Ma'am, I'll take it from here." She says, gesturing for you to give her the child. If you were in your normal state of mind, you'd do it no questions asked. But this was different. You held the body even closer to your chest, trying not to cry in front of this woman. 

"(L/N)..." it was Reid. How the hell was he upstairs and then back down to deal with your bullshit? The person you expected to come check on you had been Prentiss. Or JJ of all people. At the sound of Reid's voice, your resolve completely crumbled, and you handed the child to the paramedic. 

"Based on the warmth of the skin and the blueness of the face, he died at least ten minutes before we got here." Spencer started, looking at the back of your head. It was the only way he knew to comfort you in the moment: statistics. 

But that didn't matter to you. 

Spencer sighed, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. "You… you can cry you know. No one is going to judge you for it." 

That's what broke the dam. You sniffled and turned your body towards his, hugging him tightly almost immediately. You could feel his body stiffen for a moment, almost making you pull back. But then he eased up and laid a hand on your back and one on your head, hoping to comfort you by holding you. He had read that was supposed to be helpful. 

You couldn't help but cry, holding onto him like this. How could your first case go so badly?

○●♡●○ 

By the time you all had arrived home, you were drained of almost everything. You all piled into the bullpen, the eyes of everyone in the room turning to you as they noticed the tired eyes with the darker bags that you wore. 

You sighed and took off your holster, storing it in one of the open drawers of your given desk. You run a tired hand through your hair, looking up at the rest of the team who were equally as tired and bummed out as you were. It was 8 in the morning after all. There had been a delay in getting in the air that had lasted a few hours, making you all late. 

"(L/N), my office, please." Hotch called as soon as everyone was all through and settled into their desks. You exhale tiredly and place your bag down on the desk chair before heading towards Hotch's office.  

You stepped in and closed the glass door behind you. You stood in front of Hotch's desk, nodding to him. "You… wanted to see me sir?" You asked. 

"Yes, (Y/N). Yesterday, you did well on your negotiation. After some reevaluation of the situation I believe you could have gotten Kathy out on your own." Hotch informed, going over the papers. It felt weird for someone to call you by your first name after everyone on the team had been calling you by your last name for the entire case. 

"Thank you, sir." You reply. 

"However, I think the last part of the case got a little too personal for you. I have not looked in your file, but I assume this has something to do with something in that file."

"Actually… Hotch…" you sigh. "I… I saw my brother in that baby. I raised my brother for most of my childhood. And for me to have not reached him in time…" you take a deep breath, avoiding the increasingly obvious sob that wanted to escape your throat. "It was just sensitive for me, sir. I promise, it won't happen again." 

"Since this is your first case, I'll give you a pass. But try to stay focused on the case and not on family matters. Understood?" Hotch clarifies, looking you in the eyes. You can see he's only saying this because he has to. He's flashing you a look of empathy, one you'd been given plenty of times, but never by a man in his authority. 

"Y-yes sir." You reply, the tremor in your voice barely noticeable. 

"Good. Now I expect to see you tomorrow. Go home and try to catch up on some sleep." He dismisses. You nod to him, and shortly thereafter leave his office. 

"Hey." 

You turn your head, brown eyes meeting yours. "Huh? Oh… hey." You reply back, swallowing a sigh as you turn to talk to the genius. 

"Is… uh… is everything alright with Hotch?" He asked. 

"Yeah, he just wanted to let me know how I did and what I could improve on. Nothing much." You reply, forcing your face to stiffen and wipe away the beginnings of tears. But then you remembered what Spencer had said about the voice often betraying the user when the emotion that is felt is strong enough. 

"...Are you alright?" 

You wanted to curse out your own heart for beginning to flutter. Now was not the time to be falling in love with the sexy doctor next to you. 

"I… I think i'll be okay." You say semi-honestly, squeezing your eyes tight. 

"Did you know that it's been proven that talking about one's problems can lead to catharsis, which is a feeling of calmness and relief. Of course… The pain is still there.  But afterwards we have less built up feelings and the hurt hurts just a little less." He informed, putting one hand in his pocket and one on his messenger bag strap. You feel the beginnings of a smile form on your lips, making a small bit of the heaviness in your chest ease up. 

"Is this your formal way of asking me for that coffee?" You tease gently. Spencer chuckled. 

"Maybe…" 

"Consider it a date then." You tease again, a small smile staying on your face. You look up at Spencer, not finding any indication that the idea of it being a date turned him off from the idea. "You wanna get out of here?" 

"Sure. My car or yours?" He asks. 

"Why not walk? Less pollution, and we can talk on the way." You insist. 

"Considering the environment before our own needs. I didn't think that many people were like that anymore." He says, walking with you towards the elevator. 

You giggle softly and press the down arrow. "Guess I'm not like most people." And you could almost swear you heard him reply with a soft 'No you're not.' 

You both step into the elevator once the doors open, letting the doors close after you. Sure, you had left your bag inside, but you wouldn't need it till tomorrow. You had a date with your bed after you hung out with Spencer.  

You both walked towards the exit once the elevator doors opened again, revealing to you the main lobby. 

"So when are you going to reveal to me your favorite coffee order? Or are you going to keep that a secret too?" Spencer teased, walking beside you. 

"Oh come on. I told you all I'd tell you my name soon. I just want to make sure this is where I wanna stay, that's all-" you begin, rolling your eyes with a growing smile on your face that soon plummeted when you saw who was in front of you.  

"(Y/N) (M/N) Grant!" 

Both you and Spencer jumped at the sudden sound, and you turned your head at the sound of your full name. You feel fear invade your heart as you recognize the woman who stood in front of you with shoulder pads and make-up that screamed 'I will squash you like a bug'

"Mother?"

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfic

[ibijau]

sangyao 31 👀

modern AU

Whatever else might be wrong with the Jin, they certainly knew how to throw a party. This little masquerade they had thrown together for young Jin Ling’s birthday was truly extraordinary. The food was both abundant and of the highest quality, the room was illuminated by magical flying lanterns, and the band hired to play for the dancers was one just on the verge of becoming famous enough that in only a few months, everyone present at the party would gloat about having heard them in person.

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with other problems, Nie Huaisang would have been delighted to have secured an invitation to such an event. As it were though, the delicate canapés tasted like ash in his mouth, and the music was at best helping him spy on conversations -or hindering him by drowning some of them.

It didn’t help that the masks everyone wore muffled their voices. Of course the point of a masquerade was to wear masks, but many people were taking it too far, having covered their entire face into animal heads, after hearing that Jin Guangshan himself would be buying his mask from a trendy designer who had used that idea on his last runway. Huaisang supposed he couldn’t complain. He was after all doing the same, and using this be present as someone’s plus one. He doubted the Jins would have let him wander around so easily, if not for the rabbit head he was hiding under. They couldn’t have refused to let him in, not when he was there as Jiang Cheng’s date, but they would probably have tasked someone with following him.

Enjoying the freedom to walk among enemies, Huaisang observed carefully everyone wearing Jin colours, trying to recognise the one person he was looking for. He had never met the man in person, but he had found pictures and was sure he would recognise him if they ended up face to face. If he could just find him…

“My oh my, what an anxious bunny you are, hopping this way and that,” someone said nearby. “Do you need help with something?”

Huaisang had been about to open a small door from which he had seen waiters come and go for a while. After being ignored since he had arrived, he was so startled to be addressed that he jumped in surprise. He turned to see who was speaking to him, and discovered a man wearing a wolf mask, though of a lesser quality than that used by the Jin family and their more prominent guests. There was no doubt that the man was at least somewhat tied to the Jins, though, or he wouldn’t have dared to wear a peony on his breast.

“Bunnies are made for hopping,” Huaisang retorted boldly, his heart fluttering in his chest while he tried to recover from the surprise. “Please mister wolf, don’t attack this little rabbit, he’s just trying to make his way to the restroom, but this place is too easy to get lost in.”

“Guard dog, not wolf,” the other man sighed, pointing at his mask. “So don’t you worry, I have been well trained to leave bunnies alone. I must however tell you that this isn’t the direction of the restroom. But I can tell you where they are, or else…” he hesitated, and even through the mask, Huaisang felt the man look him over. “If this little rabbit is scared to get lost, I can be his guide for a moment?”

Huaisang hesitated. On one hand, he really didn’t want to be hindered by company. On the other hand, he could probably turn this to his advantage, if he tried.

“Aren’t you busy?” Huaisang asked, letting his voice shift to something a little whinier, flirty almost. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, mister guard dog. If you really are that. You look and sound more like a wolf to me.”

The other man only barely hesitated before glancing at the crowd around and leaning toward Huaisang.

“You’d better hope I am a dog and not a wolf. Don’t you know what wolves do to little rabbits?”

In spite of himself, Huaisang shivered, which the other man surely noticed. It wasn’t his fault though. Mister wolf’s voice was just very nice, and in spite of being roughly Huaisang’s size, the man had a presence to him that made him seem more than he was.

“Mister wolf, if you say this then I’ll be scared of following you anywhere!” Huaisang gasped with overacted fear. “After all, aren’t you threatening to eat me now?”

The man glanced behind again, then stepped closer, tilting his head to the side.

“Little bunny, who’s to say you won’t enjoy being eaten?”

Again Huaisang shivered, though this time he didn’t even try to stop himself. This too he could play to his advantage anyway.

“Mister wolf, why don’t you help me to the restroom instead of making such scary threats?” he whined, leaning forward to playfully tap on the wolf’s nose. “This poor little bunny is scared to go alone when there are such dangerous predators around that might harm it.”

Mister wolf chuckled, and nodded.

“Just give me a second to warn that I’ll be gone a moment, and then you’ll have all my attention for a bit, little bunny.”

Huaisang watched as the man went to find the head of the catering team, a middle aged woman wearing the same uninspired domino mask as all the waiters. Mister wolf told her a few words, then quickly returned to Huaisang’s side and started leading him through the crowded room.

“Are you actually working for the Jins?” Huaisang asked, dropping the flirting voice for a bit.

Mister wolf hesitated, but nodded.

“I am. I’m sorry if you thought you were chatting with someone important. I’m actually just an employee.”

There was surprising bitterness to his voice, which Huaisang decided not to remark on, though he might use it later, once the man was a little more relaxed.

“That’s no problem at all. I just don’t want to get you in trouble, mister wolf. You might have better things to do than take care of this little bunny.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just working for them, but not at such a low level that I can’t disappear for a little bit, as long as they know where to find me.”

“And do you often disappear with little bunnies during parties, mister wolf?” Huaisang asked in a low voice, pressing himself against the man’s side while pretending to avoid coming too close to another guest.

“Normally not,” the man admitted. “But since this little bunny seems so eager to meet his fate, who am I to deny it? Ah, this way,” he encouraged, taking the chance to put his hand on Huaisang’s back to guide him.

He did not remove it even when they reached a long, straight corridor, and there was no need for guidance anymore. Huaisang didn’t complain. Even if he hadn’t come here for fun, even if he didn’t know what the man looked like, it was rather nice to be flirted with. He hadn’t had time for it in a while, and he had quite missed it.

They reached the toilet quickly enough. Once there, Huaisang removed his mask, for the pleasure of breathing some fresh air… and also to show mister wolf what he’d been flirting with, in case he stopped being interested. He thought the man startled upon seeing his face, but of course he couldn’t exactly read his expression at the moment.

“Oh, you’re quite pretty,” mister wolf said. “But I don’t think you’re on the list of guests?”

“I’m someone’s last minute plus one,” Huaisang explained, dropping his mask on the side of the lavatory’s counter and bending over to splash some water on his face, angling his body so his ass would be slightly on display without quite being vulgar. “And what, are you saying you know who all the guests are, mister wolf? That doesn’t sound possible.”

“And yet it’s true,” mister wolf chuckled, fiddling with the ties of his own mask to remove it. “It’s part of my job.”

Huaisang had been watching him in the mirror, and almost stopped breathing upon discovering the handsome face of that man. He quickly splashed more cold water on his face, then turned around and leaned back against the counter in an inviting manner.

“So you’re someone a little important then, mister wolf?” he teased, running one hand in his hair to put it back in place after the mask and the water had messed it up. “Ah, I hope I’m not in trouble, since I’m apparently not supposed to be here. Are you going to punish me, mister wolf?”

The other man’s smile turned predatory, though his eyes were not without warmth as he stared a second at Huaisang’s face.

“I don’t know, little bunny, it depends on you,” he said in a low voice.

“Really? How so?” Huaisang asked, batting his eyes innocently, leaning more languorously against the lavatory in silent invitation.

Mister wolf took that invitation, crossing the distance between them and pressing himself against Huaisang. His arms found their way around Huaisang’s waist, who in return threw his own around mister wolf’s neck who smiled at him.

“Do you want to be punished, little bunny?” mister wolf growled.

Instead of answering, Huaisang laughed and pressed their lips together, quickly opening his mouth to let mister wolf devour him.

It hadn’t been his plan at all, but he was glad to have met this handsome wolf.

And now that he’d found him, Huaisang only needed to figure out how he would kill his brother’s murderer without getting caught.

#sangyao #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #I don't know why nhs knows jgy's face but not his voice #let's assume they've never met in person for whatever reason #Anonymous

[penguintransporter]

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part VIII

Hello, everyone! It took me a while to post this, but fear not - I have another chapter edited and ready to update next weekend. I contemplated for the longest time if I should post continuation of the chapter VII or maybe write a flashback that is entirely in Héctor’s POV, and decided that some of his thoughts wouldn’t be bad - so consider this as a filler even if it’s an entire update. Enjoy, let me know what you think, and don’t shy away from my inbox. You can read the first seven chapters of the story - here - along with the rest of my stuff. Lots of love, and stay amazing as always!

There was rarely a moment in which the canteen of the Arsenal FC Training Centre didn’t feel like a mini circus of some sort.

Buzzing with noise at any given time of the day, the spacious and with the long tables packed room often hosted a diverse bunch of people of different backgrounds and nationalities, ages and paychecks, contracts and positions in the club – all of them taking a refuge from their daily routines. More than often, administration hermits, trying to escape their paper-stacked offices mingled with millions of pounds worth footballers who needed their fuel before or after their training sessions, and all the high-positioned officials in their suits were known to chat away their coffee breaks with the wonderful Simone behind the canteen till.

Still, on that Friday noon, as the world was waist-deep in the month of December, the entire room felt just a little bit quieter than usual. 

As he sat alone at one of the long tables, waiting for his teammates to join him for lunch, Héctor wondered if the certain quietness was caused by the miserable weather outside or just because the feeling of yet another year slipping away was weighing down on people’s minds – including his own.

With a shake of his head, Héctor scooped some of the food on his fork before setting down his knife on a plate in front of him, looking at the windows that span along the wall to his left – the abundance of greyness greeting him. One would think that after all the years since he’s moved to England and started calling London his home, he would have gotten used on the picture in front of his eyes, but he wasn’t, and he knew that he won’t ever be.

Looking away, Héctor pursed his lips as he lazily chewed on his mouthful before glancing at the time on his phone as he reached for his knife to scoop more food, but he couldn’t help but freeze in his movements – the familiar scent filling his nostrils.

Oranges?

Confused, Héctor swallowed before leaning back in his chair as he felt the air leaving his lungs.

It wasn’t as if the oranges were something he rarely had the chance to smell, but only a handful of times the particular scent could make him feel the way he did as he apprehensively breathed in – memories of his childhood breaking out on the surface of his mind.

Warm, hot late autumns. His hand firmly held by his grandmother’s as they walked along the less-known pueblos where the oranges on the trees, bent by the their own weight, were just a reach of a hand away.

Héctor let his eyes wander as discreetly as possible around the canteen, trying to find the source of the smell that brought back the picture of the little Belle and the sight of the oranges laying along the sides of the pathways – their sweetness and stickiness an invitation for a feast for all the ants and flies.

Skinny, little boy in a sailor-striped t-shirt; thin-soled tennis shoes slippery on the cobbled slope; smell of home-cooked paella in the air.

She.

The irritating girl from the reception sat at the end of one of the long tables in the corner along with some other employees whose faces Héctor vaguely recognised, but despite it, it seemed as if she didn’t belong the rowdy bunch of five men. She seemed to be in her own little headspace, quietly looking at the round fruit she held in her hands – eyebrows slightly narrowed in a thought.

The white collar of a button down played a peek-a-boo from underneath the scruffy navy-coloured jumper she was wearing, hair tucked behind her ears and away from her face, and a pair of beaten-up shoes on her feet – she looked out of the place among the sea of red tracksuits and football kits. Héctor watched her drop the orange to her lap before looking at her phone, grinning at something, and without even realising, his leg started to bounce ever so slightly. 

She’s probably dating someone equally irritating as she was.

Realising that he was staring, Héctor looked away quickly, sucking a deep breath before running both of his hands through his hair, pausing for a moment – his fingers interlacing behind his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was that has possessed him, and God knows, he didn’t want to do it in the first place, but he did it anyway. Glancing back at her again, he observed her as she dug her nails into the skin of the orange – nose scrunching a little when the aromatic juice sprayed against her face.

He could almost feel it too—

¡Joder!

Héctor’s head snapped quickly in front of him, rubbing his face in frustration before looking at the doors of the lunch-room, hoping to see someone who could distract him from looking towards the one person he didn’t want to spend his time on.

A feeling of relief washed over him as he saw Calum walk inside the canteen, giving a quick wave to Simone before picking up a plate to serve himself from the large containers that were neatly arranged along the till. Héctor’s eyes followed his teammate, waiting for the tall guy to look in his direction so he could wave him over. 

He hated how jittery he was beginning to feel, so when his teammate scanned the room for a free seat, Héctor quickly raised his hand, ignoring the feeling in the very pit of his stomach that he couldn’t comprehend.  

Jesus Christ!

“What you’ve got there?” Calum asked with a grin, and Héctor returned the smile, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel right. His teammate slid in the chair next to him, peering at Héctor’s plate, “Beans? Really? Have you not seen all the food out there, Héc?” he grinned, pulling the sleeves of his tracksuit jacket up to his elbows, ready to dig into his food.

“What’s wrong with my beans?” Héctor asked, smiling a little as he took another forkful of his lunch, just in time to see Rob and Alexandre, walk in, quickly serving themselves with the food before walking over to where Héctor and Calum sat. Héctor looked back at Calum, waving his fork in his mate’s direction as he continued to talk, “It’s healthy, makes me run faster than you, and honestly mate,” Héctor stopped to take a sip of water, “it looks better than your chicken.”

“Chicken again, I see,” Rob commented passively without a greeting as he sat down opposite Héctor – long legs trying to find space under the table. Alexandre followed shortly, balancing more food than the plate could actually hold in one hand, while typing on his phone with other. He nodded, sitting down – his eyes never leaving the shiny screen.

“One day he’ll turn into a chicken,” Héctor joked before glancing at Calum from the corner of his eye while chasing the white bean covered in the tomato sauce around his plate.

His mate let out a small chuckle, carefully taking a bite of the grilled poultry in his mouth, “You say that now, but you’d become a carnivore again for a chicken like me, Heccy.”

“What did you just say?” Alexandre asked, looking up from his phone with a grin, “Héctor, my friend, I beg you, stay vegan. He’s not worth it…” he trailed off before the four men started laughing, earning an amused and curious smile from Simone who passed by their table, and dirty look from one of the elder officials who tried to focus on whatever he was doing on his iPad. “Anyway,” Alexandre started as they calmed down a little, setting his phone away and grabbing the fork only to stab chunks of steamed carrots and broccoli, looking up at his teammates, “do we know who’s going to be David’s date for the charity party? Rumours say he’s single again.”

“Do we care?” Rob asked, grinning to himself as he still tried to find a comfortable position for his legs.

“Why yes,” Alexandre responded, earning a lifted eyebrow from Héctor in return, “my bet is Claudia or even, what’s her name, the tall blonde that’s always running around in the physio room.”

“Eveline?” Rob curiously asked, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle with ease to take a sip, “I think she’s married, but yeah, then definitely Claudia, that’s if the boss let’s him ask her out.”

Calum shook his head swiftly before glancing towards his right for a second, “I think he’ll make a move on our pretty, little sunshine called Aida,” he commented, nudging Héctor under the table.

“Why are you nudging me?” Héctor asked with a laugh, setting his cutlery down as he decided to join in the conversation. “Am I missing the joke? Who’s Aida?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, all three of his teammates looked at him – amusing smirks on their faces, and as Héctor was the one to buy on the paranoia feeling that washed over him, he’d say that the entire room was looking his way as well. Deciding that his best bet was to ignore their questioning stares, Héctor shrugged before breaking the piece of his bread and running it along the lip of his plate – picking up the leftover sauce.

“Are you taking the piss now?” Rob asked, genuinely interested now in the course of their conversation as he smirked, leaning forward, and Héctor shook his head, sticking the piece of the soaked bread into his mouth.

“Why would I?” he asked – feeling as if he was missing on some important joke, “I don’t know if this idiot’s nudge was supposed to tell me something,” he added before grinning at Calum, and just as he was about to add something else, the sound of a chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor interrupted him. Simultaneously, they all looked up and in the direction of the screeching sound where the receptionist girl was smiling apologetically towards no one in particular.

Héctor felt the knot in his stomach rise up to his throat, but he swallowed it quickly back as he, along with his mates, watched the petite girl with the messy hair scoop the orange peels in her palm, while balancing a dark-green water bottle under one arm and a lilac notebook between her lips.

The Arsenal’s right-back looked down at his plate – piled vegetables and grains staring back at him before clenching his jaw in annoyance. He could vaguely hear a commotion and Simone’s laugh, not caring about what Calum had yelled in her direction, and caring even less about what she had responded before laughing that loud, but nonetheless contagious sound.

“Since you’re wondering,” Alexandre grinned, sticking another carrot into his mouth when Héctor looked up at the Frenchman, “that’s Aida.”

**

“—honestly, I think she’s actually nice to have around. Quite funny,” Rob responded to whatever Calum had said as he wiped the beads of sweat off of his face before leaning forward on his stationary bike.

Next to them, Héctor wanted to groan out loud like a teenager would when being interrogated by his mother about his whereabouts.

He wasn’t sure nor could he pinpoint the exact moment when the name of the receptionist girl was dropped again in their conversation, but there it was – levitating around them as he shared the corner with the treadmills and stationary bikes with Rob, Calum and Leno – the German lad being his usual reserved self.

Héctor knew very well that there was no real need for them to talk about her, but the grins that his teammates were giving him were a proof enough for him to know that they were doing it on purpose. 

Hate was a strong word, but he couldn’t say that he enjoyed it either. Not after he was already—

Focus.

Instead of giving in on his teammate’s banter, Héctor rather focused on the sound of his trainers hitting against the treadmill’s moving belt.

“She’s also babysitting Auba’s son sometimes, no?” Bernd mumbled, smiling his tight-lipped smile.

Calum chuckled at the tall goalie next to him, “I know many lads that would love to be babysat by her.” 

Despite wanting to keep his mouth shut, Héctor couldn’t hold back the snort as he lowered the speed on the treadmill, while monitoring his heart-rate.

“I just don’t understand why—,” Héctor started, but quickly stopped himself, “never-mind.”

“What? You wouldn’t?” Calum asked, looking at him. “I am sure she’d love to babysit you if you only let her,” he added teasingly, and as much as he hated himself for doing it, he actually wanted to laugh at his bad joke.

“WHO WOULDN’T WANT WHAT?” David boomed from where he was jogging towards them – wild hair tied up in a ridiculous palm-resembling-something on top of his head. Joining them, he leaned casually against the side of Héctor’s  treadmill. 

With a curious smile, David glanced between the group of men before his eyes settled on a Calum who was still looking at Héctor with a smirk.

“Heccy doesn’t fancy Aida,” he answered matter-of-factly before wiping some of the sweat off of his face with his jersey. Next to him, Rob rolled with his eyes before reaching out his towel which Calum refused with a shake of his head.

Their Brazilian teammate had an amused yet shocked look on his face as he looked at Héctor with a silly grin. “What? Really? Everyone fancies her!”

“Exactly our point,” Rob interjected and it was Héctor’s turn to roll with his eyes, “but apparently, Héctor here doesn’t.”

“You do know that I am still here?” Héctor asked, forcing a grin which only earned him a handful of playful looks from his teammates. “Besides, I have every right in the world to not fancy someone.”

“But you do like brunettes, no?” Calum asked as he started to run again, and for once Héctor wanted to be outside, in the freezing cold, preferably running next to someone who didn’t ask such stupid questions or was usually consumed by their own thoughts – Sead maybe. “—okay, maybe she’s not all legs or whatnot, but still, sometimes the compact ones are the best…”

Hoping off of the treadmill, Héctor grabbed a towel that rested on one of the chairs in the corner, refusing to hear the rest of Calum’s statement or to give in into the banter. 

“You really need to find a hobby,” he grinned after wiping his face before leaving his teammates and making his way towards the other end of the room that was reserved for heavy-weights and strength training.

Standing there alone and tying his hair in a ponytail, he glanced through the windows to his right, and as if it was a force of something above, the receptionist girl walked past – steps quick as she wrapped her scarf around her neck, shielding the lower part of her face from the harsh wind. 

Héctor shook his head as he looked down at his trainers before glancing back up, only to catch a glimpse of her silhouette disappearing around the corner – the soft scent of oranges returning to haunt him for a split of a second.

What if...

No.

#hector bellerin fic #hector bellerin fan fiction #hector bellerin fanfiction #hector bellerin imagine #hector bellerin oneshot #footballl fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #football imagine #football oneshot #arsenal fanfiction #arsenal fc fanfiction #arsenal fc fan fiction

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

CH. 1

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatley have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Cheating Danneel, Depressed Jensen, Emotionally hurt Jensen, Language, I think that’s it...

pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1797

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen pov:

"Yeah I'm well aware this is partly my fault Danneel there's no reason to drive the point home, but I wasn't the one fucking one of my employees was I?" 

Jensen was reeling, he couldn’t believe this was happening, he couldn’t believe what he had seen, it all felt just, not real...Like some strange out of body experience or nightmare that he just couldn’t wake up from..

Then as if to add insult to injury, here she was on the phone with him, trying to make it out like this was all HIS fault... 

Like he was the one bouncing on the dudes dick when she came home from work, and not the other way around. 

He just wanted to see his family, his kids, his wife, maybe even play with the God damn dog a little before leaving for the hotel before the convention started tonight. You would have never convinced him of what he was going to find when he walked through that front door the way he did today, not in a million years. 

The raw and unforgiving reality of it though was that it was real, he saw it with his own eyes, and just like that, his marriage was over. It was almost too much for him to take all at once, and the longer he heard her make one excuse right after the other to try and play the victim, instead of the cheating whore that she was, the more angry he got...

"All that time I was gone you weren't the only one that was lonely!! You weren't the only one who wanted to be close to someone!! I WANTED TO BE CLOSE TO YOU!! I HAD MY DAMN PICK OF ANYONE I WANTED!! I SPENT WEEKS PLANNING THIS TRIP SO I CAN HAVE JUST A FEW HOURS WITH YOU!! I'M DONE DANNEEL WE'RE DONE!!" 

Hanging up the phone before he could say anything he might regret, or anything she might be able to use against him in court, Jensen threw his phone across the room onto the hotel bed and shoved his hands into his hair, trying to get a hold of his frustration. 

 He started trying to talk it out with her, he really did, but the longer he was on the phone with her, the more his temper got the best of him. By the time he got off the phone with her, his face was red, and he had a knot in his stomach that made him feel like he wanted to vomit, and he was pretty sure that his blood pressure was at stroke level the whole time driving from Austin to Dallas…

He only had about three hours to get myself together before the rest of the cast and crew would arrive to get their rooms, and start the convention…

He was supposed to perform tonight for the Saturday nights special like he always did… So he had to get himself together before that started, and he had to take the stage in front of all those fans..

Thank God the hotel staff let him check in early. So he didn’t have to go to his parents to face them, or drive around Dallas for three hours because he was in no shape to be driving around right now. 

Jensen didn’t have time to get drunk before the show tonight, or to sober up in time for it to start anyway, so he paced around his room trying to control his rapidly beating heart rate. Because right now he either felt like he was having a heart attack, panic attack, or both…

His mind was reeling with questions. 

“How could she do this to me? I made sure she wanted for nothing. I loved and supported  her the only way I could. I don't understand why she did this. I was faithful, even when I had every opportunity not to be I was faithful. This isn’t fair. Did she ever love me at all?”

A knock on the door disturbs him from my thoughts, and he glared at it a moment, thinking about ignoring it until he heard Jared yelling through the door. 

"Hey J!! Are you there? I got here a little early, and they said downstairs that you were already here!! Let's get a drink before everyone else gets here!!" 

A drink did sound pretty good, and if there was any he trusted it was Jared. He'd known Jensen the at his worst, and at his best, and he was always there when he needed him. 

He had a right to know what happened. 

Jensen grabbed his hat and shades before walking to the door, leaving his phone on the bed, he didn’t want to talk to Danneel anymore, he’d said everything he had to say, and if anyone wanted to find him that bad they usually called Jared. 

Steading his nerves before he opened the door to join Jared for drinks he couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be a long convention. 

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

Your POV:

"Come on Y/n!! Put that damn guitar down!! The concert starts in one hour, and I want a good seat!!" Y/f/n yells at you from the hotel bathroom.

Rolling your eyes you sit your guitar back into its case, and put it in the closet so that housekeeping or whatever wouldn’t just see it laying around and take it. 

It was your most prized possessions...

Music was your life... 

It's what kept you going, what got you out of bed in  the morning, and the last thing you thought about before you went to bed at night.

Most importantly it was there for you when no one else was… That much you had learned the hard way…

 "Don't you think getting there an hour early is a little extreme?" You complain, turning around and checking your makeup in the mirror and grabbing your phone, and slipping it into your back pocket.

"Look you have no idea how crazy these people are that come to these cons, and I want to be so close to the stage I get sprayed with spit when Rob starts to sing." She says matter of factly, pulling her purse over her shoulder, and meeting you by the front door.

"Yeah because that's what a totally sane person would say about their seating arrangements." You mumble, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you open the door. 

The girl had it bad for Rob, which honestly was a nice chance, most girls were here for Jared, Jensen, or Misha.. 

You were more interested in seeing Jensen tonight yourself. The way his voice washed over you when he sang! Ugh there's nothing else in this world like it. It always rolled over you like honey, but burned slow, like a shot of the best top shelf whisky..The man wasn't human. 

He was a damn God, and deserves to be treated as such. 

The two of you rode the elevator to the first floor laughing, and talking about music. There were two guys in the elevator when you two got on, but you didn’t really pay them any mind. One of them smelled like he'd had more than one drink, and they both seemed to be trying to blend into the back wall of the elevator, not wanting to talk to the two of you.

"If they call for a fan to come up on stage tonight you should totally go sing with Jensen." She said, elbowing you in the ribs. Eating herself the best bitchface you could muster.

"No way dude, I'd never get past the first line. I'd freak out, and make myself look like a complete, and total idiot.." 

The shorter one of the men in the elevator smirked at the ground at your conversation. There was something familiar about that smirk........

You were about to tell him it was rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, when your friend spoke up again..

"Come on Y/n for my birthday PLEASE!!" She begged, giving you puppy dog eyes worthy of Sam Winchester. 

"No way. He's not gonna want to sing with someone like me.” You say, trying to brush her off.. 

“What would you even want us to sing?" 

The two of you exited the elevator, and you had all but forgotten about the two men following you just in ear shot. 

"Hmm.... I don't Know........ How about.... Picture, by kid rock and Sheryl Crow." She said, all but bouncing as you joined the already forming line outside the doors leading into the hall where they were about to have the concert. 

She loved that song, even though it was overplayed and overdone.

"That song is so damn old Google probably can't even find the lyrics to it anymore." You tease her.

She just rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at you.

“It’s my birthday, so I pick the song! I didn’t say you’d have to like it”

The doors were opened before long, and the two of you made your way through the doors into the large room the concert was being held in. Leaving early had paid off. You were center stage, front row. Thanks to your friend’s media pass and gold tickets too, but you weren’t going to point that out. 

Y/f/n was jumping up and down in her seat with excitement, and you just couldn’t burst her bubble.

"Did you see those two guys that were in the elevator with us?" You asked, as the two of you watched the other fans filter into the room. 

The smile that one guy did sure did look familiar. You wished you could have gotten a better look at his face better, but they were both wearing shades and ball caps; keeping their heads down like they didn’t want to be bothered, and you didn’t want to stare at them, and make them feel uncomfortable.. 

"Yeah I saw them, probably just two dudes here with their girlfriends." she says shrugging you off as she sets up her camera for tonight. You don’t know why you cared so much, not like it mattered anyway who they were, or why they were here, there were a lot of strange people that went to these conventions, and they probably were here with their girlfriends, but still that smirk…

You shoved the thought of the two strangers in the elevator aside, you were about to see “The Jensen Ackles” sing. Honestly if you could have known you were going to die when he walked off stage. 

You'd die happy. 

Just cause you were that close to that beautifully sculpted, almost inhuman body, and voice that could melt you like butter. 

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

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #hurt!jensen #suicidal fic #dark fic #hurt!comfort fic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #x reader inserts #jawritter

[seijohsfairy]

𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴

indelible; something ingrained, unfading, indestructible you never really minded the twin rivalry. until you ended up in the middle of it, with atsumu on the losing side.

sequel to mirror (you don’t need to have read it before but it’s recommended)

.wordc. 5k+ tw incest, noncon > dubcon, mentions of past noncon, jealousy, hair pulling, praise kink, unprotected sex

+

Sometimes you wonder what the world would look like if you could have two suns in the sky. Or two halves of the same core, the same molten stardust that flickers with life. You’re not sure the world could handle it, or at best— you alone can’t. But you grew up knowing them this way, only ever together. Always in competition with each other, always driving each other forward— at a frightening pace sometimes.

They are both fiery, hardworking and passionate, always have been, and as you grew it became their trademark more with the years. Incessantly. Where Tsumu is precise, Osamu is diligent. Where Osamu is confident and self-assured, Tsumu is bursting at the seams with energy. To strangers they’d be the typical image of similarity. If you’d ask their close friends, they’d probably tell you the twins are more different than you can imagine. But to you, and you’ve been with them almost as long as they’ve been with each other, they are nothing more than distorted shimmers of broken light on the wall.

Not the same or completely foreign, but part of the same blur. You guess in some ways you belong to that whole too— even before you know it yourself.

It’s when you’re five that your older brothers go through a bit of a bully phase. Not to anyone outside the family, just to each other. And to you, with your silly pigtails and a bottom lip that is a bit too easy to shake. And though it’s both of them that tackle you in the grass when you run, sometimes getting on top of you to wrestle when you threaten to tell mom, you remember figuring out at age five which half of the whole it is to stick with at what time.

Samu nii is a lot of things, but he isn’t the one to look for when they bump past you and knock you to the ground. It won’t ever be Samu nii who gives up his chance of winning in order to help their tiny, little sister. Atsumu’s hands are warm when he reaches for you though, and his sleeves always feel soft when he’s wiping your face from the silvery tracks of tears.

When you’re nine, you realize that while Osamu isn’t the one to drop to his knees to help you up, he does care about your wellbeing. Any big brother would- even if they don’t admit it, but he always seems to take pride in it. When one of the boys of your class manages to place a wet kiss on your cheek during lunch and you and your little friends scatter with squeals and the dramatic overreactions only young girls can have, it’s Osamu who crosses the yard to come pull you behind him.

You don’t think protecting you like this would ever even cross Atsumu’s mind, and so it’s easy to bury your face into his back and cling to his sweater while he glares down the boy. It’s Atsumu who laughs it off when you all walk home together at the end of the day, fingers held a little too tight in your brother’s hands.

And it’s when you’re fourteen that Atsumu pulls you into the world’s tightest hug after school, clutching you to his chest. It’s not the first time you see him cry, but it’s the first time you remember taking notice of just how much he truly wants this, sniffling into your neck that he’s invited to the National Youth camp. It’s that night you hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, cuddled up under the soft blankets in the bottom bunk, letting him know that it’s okay if he’s going on ahead. That you and Samu nii will stick together and catch up to him.

And it’s Osamu who comes to sit at the end of the bed when your other brother has fallen asleep, softly snoring, who makes you link pinkies and promise things, quiet in the night. “Atsumu’s gonna go pro, ya’know?” he whispers, and you hum through the thick, dark tension when he looks at his twin, curled up resting on your chest. “He’ll leave,” he says, “so promise you won’t. Promise yer stayin’ with me.”

Promise you’ll be mine.

Promise.

Promise.

You do. It’s when you’re eighteen you learn that where Atsumu grabs hold of the top and strives on to deliver, Osamu promises only what he already knows he can give. And you learn that to Samu nii, promises are sacred.

+

Your house is quieter after that night, and Atsumu doesn’t know why he doesn’t leave. He no longer seems welcome, the tension radiating off of his twin clear enough a sign, but it’s you who delivers the finishing blow each day. You sit alone when he comes back from his runs, and you don’t bother to pretend that you’re not hurt. He’s not an idiot, hell— he’d probably do worse if he was in your place. But he also can’t help the itch he feels when he hears you crying through the wall in the other room, waking both him and Samu up. It’s his brother who pulls you into his chest and tells you to go back to sleep after you’ve stopped screaming through your nightmares, but Atsumu thinks it’s him who gave you them.

Every conversation he has with you after is clipped and hurried, and you never quite meet his eyes. It’s the same kind of distance you put between yourself and Samu, and fuck- he hates every passing second it lasts. Your chair scrapes against the floorboards too loud the last evening of his stay when you clear off everyone’s plates, putting them dutifully in the dishwasher. And Osamu, his twin— your brother for fuck sake, comes up behind you to litter kisses onto your neck and pull you close to him until you have to crack a smile. “I love you, baby,” he whispers then, and your mouth corners always drop a little when you straighten up.

“I love you too, Samu nii.”

He knows you don’t trust him anymore. And he can’t even blame you, because he knows what he did, what Samu is doing to you, is wrong. It’s far past wrong, and it eats him up inside when he has to leave and you two wave him out with a gentle pat on the back. You don’t look at him when he stands at the threshold, your eyes glossing over when he calls for your name. But you offer him another goodbye and walk back into your love den with his brother, as he stands in silence in the hall. “She’ll get over it soon enough, so ya can stop poutin’ now,” Samu mumbles, sighing. “I trust ya to keep this between us.”

His eyes trail over your pitiful form as you disappear down the hall, heart beating unfairly hard against his ribs. “Atsumu,” his brother grunts when he doesn’t respond, eyebrows narrowing. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” He lets his gaze shift to his mirror image and crosses his arms over his chest, hoping to keep the warmth in his jacket. A hand falls to his shoulder again, and though it feels just as warning as before, the brunet takes a moment to stare into his eyes. Then he nods. “Just know she will forgive you.” The ‘she did for me after all’ stays unspoken, and Atsumu hates that the statement makes his heart swell. He knows he deserves anything you throw at him.

His twin is right in the end, though it takes long enough to have the blond’s stomach churning each time he thinks of asking you to come by some time. At least to get out of the bustle of uni life, he ends up texting you, just hoping that you still care for him enough to take him up on his offer. Just to help you, like his first instinct should have been in the first place. Never again will he touch you like that, he swears to himself, though it’s your teary expression that flashes through his brain the second before he cums almost every time. Remembering the way you’d wrapped your lips around his cock and taken him so pretty, looking at him though wet lashes and heated cheeks.

He knows he shouldn’t find it as intoxicating as he does, and it stabs at his consciousness every time he analyzes a picture of you and Samu a bit too closely. Fuck, how did he never notice the reverant way Osamu looks down at you when you’re in promotional images for Onigiri Miya together. How did he never notice the arm wrapped so tight around your waist on the image staring back at him, plenty of faces that keep the store running, but none as jarring as you two. You look like lovers, well, no— Samu does. The swelling feeling of guilt that has him staying up late at night, wondering if you’ll call him awake some time.

He misses hearing you call him when Osamu doesn’t suffice. He misses being the one you felt safest with. So his heart soars almost painfully when you agree to stay for the weekend, getting away from Sendai for a while, and with the best intentions he agrees. He does.

But it’s odd introducing you to his team. For as close as you might’ve been in childhood and throughout all of middle and highschool, it’s only now he realizes that he never really brought you up to the people around him. He just took his shot alone and ran with it, hoping the shadow he cast was big enough to have you following. That’s how it should have been, that’s what siblings do. So why does it feel like he lost? Osamu’s employees, your neighbors, the old lady behind the counter at the store down the street recognize you and they love you, and every single one knows you’re Osamu’s little sister, never his.

So when he picks you up from the station mid-training and asks the team to go easy for the rest of practice, people glance at you like you’re the most interesting thing they’ve seen this last month. Grabbing your tiny hand and shaking it a bit too enthusiastically, pulling you into hugs and talking your ear off about the upcoming tournament before he even has the chance to speak. And when the captain comes to stand next to him for a moment with crossed arms, the guilt lurches out of his throat and keeps his tongue stuck like glue to the bottom of his mouth.

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Meian laughs, clapping him on the shoulder, “and considering the guys’ reactions neither did they. As long as you keep the team as a priority as much as her, I don’t have any complaints. You seem like a good couple.” The noiret laughs then, and though Tsumu knows he should say something to correct this assumption, he can’t. “Oh, and go a bit more gentle on the poor thing, Miya. She’s bruised to hell and back.”

He joins the rest of the team in conversation not ten seconds later and lets you slip your hand into his for comfort, and the smile that comes up is instinctive. When all his friends ask for your name, he only tells them the first part. And though he knows it’s a horrible thought, he loves that you’re not the Miya twins’ little sister to them. No, to his teammates, you’re Miya Atsumu’s beautiful, smart, stunning girlfriend. And he gets a sick thrill out of watching their eyes flick over your body and the hickeys peeking out under your shirt and shorts, because he got to fuck your mouth and they didn’t.

+

The weekend together goes well enough, considering. You both spend so much time together, that it almost feels like nothing ever changed. You even call him Tsumtsum nii again. For those precious hours it feels just like it did when you three still lived together and the most you had to worry about was which big brother to feed your excess food. As he makes dinner the last night of your stay, there’s moments where it feels completely natural to have you so near, surrounding him in your presence. And with how busy he always is, it never even crossed his mind that maybe he was missing something in his home.

You.

It’s like the postcard of a perfect household, he smiles to himself, if maybe you were to add a few little ones into the mix. Not any time soon of course, you still have your school and he’s still too busy with his career, but in a couple of years. He doesn’t think of Osamu, and you don’t seem to either when you walk around and talk about anything and everything you can think of, like the months away took as much of a toll on you as they did on him. He smiles to himself stirring the vegetables, letting you bounce around the room and ruffling your hair any time you get close enough to.

But then you creep up behind him and squeeze yourself in between his arms to taste what he’s making, and everything rushes back. His traitorous brain imagines the way your ass would be pushing up against him if you shifted only an inch or two. And how perfect you fit into his arms, better than Osamu, and fuck— you smell so fucking good right now. His arm sneaks around your hips to pull you back into him, automatic, and he lets out a tiny breath when you freeze. Because for as wrong as it is, it’s always felt right to surround himself with you. Something Osamu must’ve been aware of, clearly.

“Niichan,” you mumble, grabbing at his arm and trying to move it back, but he’s always been much stronger than you. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“Why not? I’m just holding my little sister, since when is that a crime?” He puts the spatula aside, turning off the stove and trapping you into his hold more. “Is it because ya only want to belong to Osamu, s’that it? Even after everything I’ve done for ya?” The words tickle along your neck as he talks, leaning in more to press a kiss to your jaw. “How much I came to visit even though yer place is so far away, how much I took care of ya. It’s only natural I wanna hold you a little.” He presses his lips further along the line of your neck, losing himself in your warmth and scent so quickly.

But then you turn in his hold. “Tsumtsum nii, we can’t!” You place your hands on his chest and push, and while he barely moves, it’s rejection enough. And in some way it hurts more, because with Osamu you should have seen it as it was happening. But this, the hurt and jealousy swirling on his features, it has no right to be there. Because he knows just as well as you do that this is fucked up, and that it never should have happened. “Ya can’t. It’s not allowed, if mom and dad knew— y-you shouldn’t want me.”

And he does know. He knows, he knows, he knows that for as much as he loves you, there shouldn’t be this urge to touch you and hold you like it keeps replaying in his mind. So he apologizes, clenching his jaw and continuing with the food in silence, something that drags on the rest of the night. When you both finish brushing your teeth and he walks you to the guest room, there’s a moment where you seem to hesitate. It reminds him of that time he stayed over at your place again now, the way you’d clung to him so tight before he knew just what was happening.

You turn on your heel and take a deep breath, before suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down the distance to press your lips to his, soft and gentle and entirely different from the kisses he’s seen Osamu steal. But this is better, so much better, because you’re doing it on your own. He moves his lips back against you for a few seconds as you cling to him, a tiny noise of contentment falling from your lips when you pull back. He rests his forehead against yours as your eyes flutter, fingers gently running through the shorter hair at the base of his skull. And the warmth between you two is almost too good to be true.

It’s in that moment he can pinpoint the last of his platonic love tumble straight into more, lust and adoration and trust all mixed into one, and the worst part is that he can’t fucking bring himself to feel guilty. Not one bit. All other girls he’s ever been with pale compared to you, they always would. But you pull away from him and he has to hold himself from pulling you back close, from pressing you up against the wall and devouring you like the starved thing you leave him as. “I love ya, Tsumu niichan,” you whisper softly, swallowing through the rough patch in your voice. “But we can’t, okay? I promised Samu nii.”

“But he-”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m his —” you hesitate on the word, still letting it taste so bitter on your tongue, “he says I’m his wife, and he takes good care of me. And I love him too, so we can’t.” You pull away entirely, dropping your hands to the doorknob and twisting it, and rubbing a sleeve under your eyes. “That’s the difference between the two of ya, niichan. Yer always gonna love volleyball a bit more than ya love me, and Osamu nii is the other way around.” Then you disappear into the guest room, and he lets you. It sticks with him as he tries to close his eyes that night, brain mangled and body hot and feverish.

But he resists the urge to touch himself to you for once, because maybe this is what defeat feels like.

The drive back to Sendai in the morning, though familiar, feels awfully foreign. Everything about the place he grew up in looks wrong and he’s more irritated than ever at the mindless mumbling of the radio, but he’ll take anything to avoid having to look at you right now. As the silence continues, there’s a nagging voice that keeps coming back around. Since when does he take defeat as a valid answer? Since when does he give a shit if he has a fighting chance or not?

Walking you out of the car and to your apartment all happens on auto-pilot, his heart swelling the longer he stares at the soft curve of your face and the way you swing your arms. You crack open the door and mumble softly to yourself as he looks at you, really looks at you. And with another breath it becomes glaringly clear that you’re supposed to be just as much his, if not more. ‘Hm, Samu nii isn’t here yet. Maybe he’s at the store,’ you say, but he doesn’t hear it.

You both walk into the apartment together, you kick the door closed as his eyes fall to one of the pictures of you and Samu together. Smiling, his arm wrapped so tight around your shoulder, wind ruffling your hair and biting at your nose and cheeks. His heart drops the longer he’s forced to look at it, and you remain oblivious as you put down the bags next to your shoes. Why, that’s all that echoes through his head as he watches you, watches you drop your jacket and pick up a ring that you must’ve left at home to keep your secret. You slip it onto your finger too easily, like it barely shocks you anymore. He hates every second of it.

“Tsumtsum nii?” Before he knows it, that fighting spark in him is breaking through like a bomb, when he grabs at your arm and pulls you into him. You freeze when he kisses you, letting his mouth melt with yours and tongue slip in between your lips, the keys dropping from your hands out of shock. You arch into his touch as he kisses you breathless, pulling back and instantly littering them down your throat, collarbones, pulling your shirt down to place them down the valley of your breasts as you pant his name. “What-”

“Yer wrong,” he hisses as he looks up at you through thick lashes, sucking the soft skin above your bra and biting there. His hands are greedy and eager as he slips them under the cups of your bra, pushing the fabric up like it’s offensive. And your hands find his hair, even though you shake your face side to side, he knows you. He knows what makes you tick and makes you cry, even more than you do. Maybe more than Samu does too. He sucks your one nipple into his mouth while flicking the other, tugging on it as you moan. “Don’t tell me what ya think ya know, because yer wrong.”

He’s quick to push you toward the floor, his size and weight more than enough to make your knees buckle, putting you into place under him. He almost snaps at the way you try to hide yourself like he hasn’t seen it all before. Like he hasn’t fucked your mouth or heard how you beg to cum like you did, but this is different. This is the lust of someone who’s got something to prove, and though you love Samu enough not to say it, he knows you want him too.

“Niichan, don’t-” you try, pushing him back by his shoulders to no avail. “Samu will know.” Even hearing that name makes him grit his teeth. So fucking unfair. Why does Samu get to have you and not him? It won’t do.

Pushing you over and yanking your ass up by your hips, you let out a little breath when he grabs a handful of ass. “S’not fair,” he hisses, other hand slipping around to push two fingers to your center through your shorts. The rough feeling of the layers of fabric rubbing up against your sensitive pussy feel good, but you still try to wiggle out from under his strong grip, shaking a bit. It’s not that you don’t love him, you love him so much.

“Tsumtsum nii!” you cry, muscles straining from the unforgiving position.

You’ve always loved your big brothers equally, as much as Osamu tried to pretend that wasn’t true in the past. But you made a promise, and—

he cuts off your thoughts by letting one hand drop to your head and tangle into your hair with a pull that has you moaning. His free hand works on pulling your shorts and underwear down the curve of your ass and thighs. And he grunts at the sight of your pussy already wet and clenching around nothing. Because as much as you know it to be wrong, you still ache to have his cock.

He spits onto the hole for good measure, before bringing those rough fingertips between your bottom lips and spreading them apart, cursing under his breath. “Fuckin’ look at you, already dripping for niichan. Ya pretend to belong with Samu, but yer whoring yourself out to me so easily. Letting my fingers slip in like this, hm?”

He pushes two in despite the bit of resistance, only getting harder watching your eyes roll back as he curls his fingers into the soft walls of your pussy. The lewd squelch of your walls accepting him too easily, body resisting the urge to fuck yourself back onto him. It’s so easy to tell that you want him as much as he needs you, and he’s determined to make you say it too. “Feel good?”

You clench your jaw as your walls tighten around his thick, long digits driving in and out of you. Warm slick mixed with his spit going down your thighs and his hand, as he rubs his clothed center against your ass. “Tsumu niichan,” is all you whimper out, but it’s no longer scolding. It’s a beg, a true desperation for your big brother, and as soon as you realize this you suddenly start shifting around again. “No, niichan, you can’t. We can’t, I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“Let him.” Tsumu knows how mean his twin can get when he drives him up the wall enough, but he needs this. Needs to feel your warm pussy wrapped around his cock, so that maybe he’ll be able to drive away those plaguing thoughts about you for good.

You try to lift yourself up from the floor, but he just pushes you back down, using one arm to keep you in place and shivering as his fingers hit the same spot over and over again. Your eyes close as tears bead at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from how overwhelming it feels to have him too. It makes you remember how it was when Samu nii first had you, but instead of only dread and shame, there’s an overwhelming need.

An ache for your empty pussy to be filled by him. It’s bad, but you cling to the fluffy carpet so easily. And his fingers feel so good inside, making your entire body feel right. When he pulls those long fingers out of you to rub the wetness over your sensitive clit, you whimper again, biting your lip to keep it in. Blood rushes between your ears, letting you hear only the pounding of your heart and the way he hisses when settling between your spread thighs. “I know yer gonna beg me for it,” he says, and as cocky as it sounds, he’s right. You both know it.

He fiddles with his belt only a second before getting the zipper and pushing his pants down his thick legs, taking his boxers with them. It’s been too long since he got any sort of proper relief. His hand never fully satisfied him, and any girl he found in his bed always looked like you, but never enough.

There was always something that left him pent up and frankly, losing his mind, because they didn’t moan or beg or sound like you. Didn’t call him niichan like you. The one time he dared ask a hookup to call him that, it had felt so wrong that he’d asked her to leave early. His cock is rock hard as it slaps up against his stomach, drooling enough precum to make the entire head look glazed, all because of you. All because his little sister is a brother fucker, and his own jealousy and devotion even worse.

You reach up a hand and bite into it to keep quiet when he nudges your legs apart more. And you obediently stay in place, which makes his cock twitch and his balls feel even heavier. No wonder Samu loves you this much. Eyes half shut and wet lines running from them, looking so fucking pretty for him. He leans in, pressing the glistening head of his cock to your warm hole and slipping in.

Though your chest heaves and you shake a little, you accept him inside so sweetly. Like he imagined you would. He pushes in a few inches at a time and watches your face scrunch up each time he fills you out further, walls clinging to his fat cock as he pulls back a little. “Fuck, yer so tight. So fucking tight and wet.” He keeps going until you throw your head back and moan into your palm, a mix of a cry and a call for his name, all muffled.

He frowns as he pushes in even more, finally bottoming out and pulling your hand away from your face. “No. Make noise, let me hear you. I deserve this much,” he grunts, pushing the head of his cock up against the end of your walls, watching you twitch and whimper, fat tears rolling down your temples. You’re so fucking beautiful for him. “Ya deserve yer big brother’s cock like this, hm? You want it.”

Clenching your eyes shut so tight, you cry out for him again, throwing your arm back and clinging to the soft fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. And fuck— he understands. He’s never felt this fucking good, and he barely moved so far. “Gonna fuck into you how ya deserve,” he promises, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth as you struggle for words, legs shaking.

He pulls his hips back then, leaving your dripping cunt empty, before pushing back in entirely and filling you up in a single thrust that has you really crying out. Nails digging into his muscular back and hips pushing back on him, you sob. “Niichan, niichan, your cock f-feels ah, so, s-so good. Love -hngg, love ya, Tsumtsum nii.” He pulls back again, pushing back in faster this time and building a rhythm that has you fucked stupid.

Tits bouncing and mouth dropped open, you let him fuck you like a man starved, dripping around his cock. You can’t even pretend like you don’t want him this much, because when he looks down he can see the ring of white around the base of his cock and the wetness dripping down your pussy. “Love ya too, pretty girl. Taking niichan’s fat cock so well.”

He grabs your hips tighter, leaving little ovals where his fingertips dig in, rutting himself into you with the pounding rhythm until you’re seeing double and you have to shut your eyes tightly. “Say my name, come on,” he grunts, grabbing a handful of hair for a second so he can watch your face as it contorts, heated and looking so perfectly fucked out because of him. It’s heavenly. You clench around his fat length as it slides back in each time, basically shivering from the overwhelming feeling that comes each time the head of his cock pushes into your gummy walls. “Who’s fucking ya like this?”

“Tsumu niichan,” you sob, reaching behind you to reach for something to hold onto, and he untangles his fingers from your hair to grab your hand, holding onto you with a gentleness you don’t expect. You’re left a babbling mess each time he bottoms out so good, barely coherent. “Feel s’good and big, p- can’t take it, niichan. Please, pleasepleaseplease, can’t.”

“Yes, ya fuckin’ can.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles as he pounds into you, before suddenly grunting and pulling out. “Yer gonna cum, huh? Cum on niichan’s cock like this.” He’s quick to turn you around and push your shaking thighs apart, his lips softly curling upwards as he urges your legs around his glutes. He positions himself back over you, turning your face toward him and laying a long, deep kiss on your lips.

You barely have the energy to kiss back, but moan into it anyway. Then he pulls back enough to hold himself up on one arm and pistons his hips into you, his cock twitching inside you.  One hand dipping between your legs to rub your puffy clit for a few more seconds is all it takes for you to lock your legs around him and grab onto him with a breathless cry of his name, clenching so hard it almost pushes him out. “Atsumu nii!” you whimper, string of mumbled swears being muffled as he kisses you and tangles his tongue with yours.

“My good, little sister, yer perfect for me,” he grunts, pushing himself back up and grabbing hold of your hips to tilt them into him more for access. “Gonna cum, pretty girl. Take it all.” Sweat drips down his chest under his shirt before he groans, muscles clenching and his hands going a bit shaky with the effort put into his lazer focus on your creaming pussy.

The sight of you so fucked out and the way your walls still cling to him any time he pulls out, your tits bouncing with his rhythm, is enough to make him spill his hot cum into you with a last few thrusts. “Fuck -hng, fuckfuck— yer mine!” He lays down onto you and covers you entirely in his heat as he presses his lips back to yours for more slow, deep kisses that make you entirely spaced out.

Your brain blissed out and still trying to catch your breath, you let him kiss you for a few minutes, cock still inside you despite the overstimulation. But you couldn’t ask him to move if you tried. After a little bit of basking in each other’s warmth, he bites his lip to hold in a hiss. The door clicks, as he pushes himself up from you to slip out and sit back onto his heels, brushing his fingers along your cheek. The door swings open.

Your eyes widen as you look over. Samu’s face stays completely impassive for a few moments, before his darkening eyes flick between the two of you. The blond frowns as he scoops you up against him. “Well, would’ya look at that,” Samu clicks his tongue. Hurt and accusation meets understanding when Tsumu wraps his arms closer around you and rests his chin on your shoulder.

The affectionate sight makes Osamu’s nose scrunch, as he drops his bags of groceries and kicks off his shoes. And maybe he’d be right being so mad, if he hadn’t taken your body the exact same way too many times to count. “Ya said ya’d keep him away from what’s mine,” he hisses at you, but with your shaking bottom lip and arms wrapped around yourself for protection, most of his anger is shifted to Tsumu instead. ”And I thought I told you to keep yer fucking hands off’a her, brother.”