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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

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Maddening One, My Goddess (S.R.)

*Picture is not indicative of Reader's appearance.

Summary: Spencer hooked up with a goddess on February 13 and almost immediately comes to regret it when he attends a pre-planned Valentine's Day blind date.

Request: Spencer has a one night stand with a random woman but on valentines he's supposed to go on a blind date with one of Penelope's friends and it turns out it's the same woman Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff (16+ for sexual themes) Content Warning: Fade to black scene with sexual themes, alludes to sex, one night stand, Greek mythology, Reader as Aphrodite, second hand embarrassment, awkward dinners, kissing/making out Word Count: 4.85k

MASTERLIST

Many mistakes begin with a poorly timed question. There is no more obvious rendition of this tired trope than a book chosen at random from the romance section of a bookstore.

So often had it happened, where the hero seals his own fate by misunderstanding the weight of his words. Whether he had been the one asking or the one being asked, it always ended with tragedy reminiscent of the Greek Gods.

I knew I would be that hero from the moment I saw my heroine sitting lonely at the cafe on the corner. Her eyes, half-lidded but filled with yearning, remain affixed on the empty chair across from her.

The place was packed with busy bodies, but she seemed so still. It was as if an oil painting of Aphrodite had come to life and left her without her other.

Perhaps it was just the foolhardy romantic in me, but I found that a woman waiting for nothing to arrive was a bit too tragic with Valentine’s Day only one night away.

“Are you waiting for someone?” I had asked.

Those eyes that had been lost resurfaced. They’d turned to me with a dreamy sigh and a demure charade to hide the deviance hidden betwixt the words.

“No, I wasn’t,” she had purred, “but now I’m hoping you’ll ask me to stay.”

Who was I to deny Cupid’s arrow, no matter how poorly timed? Was it chauvinistic to want to save her from solitude when she was so clearly aware of her own tragedy? She had not been a woman who needed to be saved. But she had wanted someone to try.

Try, I had. We spoke until long past the flickering of shy streetlights. I’d watched the sun set behind her, casting its halo as her backdrop. The jealous star had burned twice as beautifully in an effort to outshine her. When it had finally accepted defeat and gave in to the night, she also had to take her leave.

It had only been a few hours. It was only a few hours before the day of the lovers’ feast. I’d spent the afternoon fantasizing about an alternate reality where I could let myself be consumed by her. I had trailed behind her, her Icarus chasing what felt both unattainable and inevitable.

When she had leaned forward to kiss me, wax wings turned to a puddle at my feet. I had been trapped in place, powerless to her as she kissed me again, and again, and again. I fell for her then, with no reservations.

The chilly February air had presented the perfect contrast to her warmth. Her scorching lips were still soft. I had felt the intensity growing stronger with each meeting of our lips. When she had shyly asked for entrance, I had given it without hesitation.

Like the fools in every Greek tragedy, we plummeted swiftly into the inferno of lust. Cupid had claimed another victim, but I hadn’t been able to find a reason to resist her.

It was inevitable, after all. Fated by Eros himself.

Yet I’d been surprised that she’d lingered when her had chariot arrived.

Still sporting that intoxicating stare, she had asked, “Are you coming?”

So many mistakes begin just like that.

“I-I just met you,” I’d answered honestly, “I’ve uh… I’ve never done this before.”

She’d tipped her head back and laughed. It had hurt less than I would have expected. How could it, when the sound had been so beautiful?

“Oh, honey, I know,” she’d giggled, “But don’t worry, I’ve done it enough for the both of us.”

The animal in me trembled as it puffed it’s chest at the taunt.

“Is that supposed to be attractive? Because it is,” I’d laughed.

It had been enough of a yes for her. She took my hand in hers and began leading me away from the remnants of wax wings that I no longer needed. Like them, I’d shed my insecurities in exchange for a promise of a bed less painfully empty.

“Really? Not worried about where you’ll end up on the rankings?” she’d snickered.

“Terrified, actually.”

She had paused before she could climb into the backseat. She’d turned to me with an overwhelming, paradoxical nature. Still somehow seeming shy, she’d tugged me forward until her lips ghosted over my ear.

“Good boy,” she’d whispered, “you’ll be on your best behavior, then.”

And I had tried. I’d tried with everything I had to please her any way that she would let me. We had remained tangled together from the moment we’d crossed the threshold to her hotel room until long after the clock had struck midnight.

She had been every bit as idyllic as I’d expected. My shy seductress with her eyes full of wonder and ambrosia spilling from her lips. I had worshipped her like Aphrodite herself, and like her devout followers, I felt no shame in my own humility.

But as the sun peeked through thin veils, I knew that reality had persisted. The jealous sun rose and shone brightly as it sought to reveal the aftermath of a night with a goddess.

I woke to an empty bed and the distant sound of the shower. The feeling of regret was nonexistent up until I heard the raucous reminder of exactly what day it has been.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

At first, I thought about ignoring the call. I considered the most cowardly option of not alerting Penelope Garcia of my indiscretions. If I simply didn’t answer, maybe it would spare me some of the humiliation.

Of course, that also risked her searching the location of my cell phone, which would take her approximately fifty five seconds to do. If she were to do that, I feared that the moment she discovered I was in a hotel room a couple blocks from my apartment, she might come kick my ass herself.

I knew I had to be brave. I had to tell Penelope the truth that, despite her kindness in finding some poor woman who would put up with me on Valentine’s Day, I had to cancel.

I had to cancel because I had made the truly heinous, foolish mistake of a one-night stand on February 13th.

Without allowing myself to dwell on my idiocy any longer, I picked up the phone and spoke as quickly and quietly as I could.

“Penelope, I have to cancel.”

“What?!” she shouted back.

“I’m sorry!” I tried to interject, but she shouted over me with a contained fury, “Reid, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t cancel, the date is tonight!”

When I didn’t answer, she continued—much louder— “It’s Valentine’s Day! The day of love, Cupid’s birthday, the holiest of Hallmark holidays, the day on which we agreed that you would come with me on a double date with a woman I very carefully chose specifically for you!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry just—.”

I stopped as soon as the shower had. The sweet sound of her humming in delight caused butterflies to roar in my chest before they were caught in the vortex of anxiety that was beginning to peak.

“I have to go,” I rushed, but she hasn’t understood.

“Damn right you do!”

“No! I meant I have to get off the phone. I can’t go tonight,” I repeated.

On the other end of the phone, Penelope remained blissfully unaware of my predicament.

“Reid, if you abandon me on my favorite day and leave me to pick up the pieces of this poor girl’s broken heart, I am never going to personally make sure that—!”

The door opened.

“I’ll call you back,” I said before hanging up.

Despite the obvious fear plastered on my face and coursing through my veins, my Aphrodite strolled past me with a wave of her hand.

“You’re bad at whispering,” she droned.

I hadn’t exactly been trying to, but I realized that actually just made me seem worse, so I didn’t dare correct her. Instead, I just watched her nonchalantly drop the towel from her naked body.

I was so distracted by her beauty in the morning light that I almost missed when she spoke again.

“Also, relax,” she sighed, “I already have plans today, so I’m not interested in whatever you were planning.”

Perhaps I had been wrong about how it would feel to be struck through the heart by Eros. I had thought it felt like sweet torture, but in that moment, any remnant of sweetness turned to bitter waves in my stomach.

“Oh, okay,” I muttered.

I’d tried—and failed—to hide my disappointment. In a way, I think she was doing the same.

I thought about saying something, anything to prolong my time with her. I looked at her again. Just the same as the day before, the sun hung behind her and made her appear like a vision from the heavens. She glanced at me over her shoulder as she tried to collect her clothing scattered on the floor.

I opened my mouth to ask her if she was sure she’d wanted me to leave when she still looked so tragic.

The words never made their way through my lips. They died on my tongue the second that she spoke.

“Do you need me to order you a cab?” she asked.

So many mistakes had started just like that.

The walk home to my apartment had been a grueling endeavor. Partially because of the vengeful wrath of Penelope Garcia in my ear, but mostly because I couldn’t help but feel that I’d made the most horrible mistake by accepting her invitation to leave.

It would have been rude to overstay my welcome, of course. But there was something about the way she’d looked at me as we had stood at her door.

I’d expected her to shut it in my face, but she hadn’t. In fact, before I had departed for likely the last time, she had taken the time to press a lingering kiss to my burning cheek.

“If you ever work up the nerve…” she’d whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”

The nerve for what, though? The question had haunted me the whole day. I feared it might haunt me forever.

But this had hardly been an opportune time and place to ponder and yearn for another woman. There, in a beautiful restaurant on Valentine’s Day, with two close friends and waiting on a woman whose heart I was fully prepared to break.

My own heart pounded with the anticipation of the disappointment. I carried my own heartbreak in a lead arrow that would surely drive everyone away.

I knew when she’d arrived because I could hear Penelope’s excitement from across the table. She nearly leapt from her chair to greet my date.

By contrast, my eyes stayed fixated on her feet. That was, until Penelope said something that seemed impossible.

“(Y/n),” she said so simply, as if it hadn’t been an earth-shattering revelation. “This is Spencer. Spencer, this is…”

My Aphrodite, my damsel, my greatest desire and my greatest regret. I stared at her with wide eyes and a dropped jaw that floundered rather than spoke.

“(Y/n),” I muttered when my mouth managed to make words.

She smiled.

Then, as if no part of this was strange or fateful, she continued, “It’s so nice to meet you, Spencer.”

Each step of her perfectly polished heels felt like a knife to my heart. When she took the seat beside me, her perfume hit me the same as her lips against my cheek that morning.

I was so stunned, I couldn’t even breathe. I was waiting for everyone to reveal that this had all been a twisted joke they were all in on.

She seemed so… calm. So prepared to pretend. I wondered how I’d ever thought of her as a damsel. If anything, in that moment, she was more of a villain.

The wrath of Aphrodite came with a quirk of her lips and her hand resting gently on my forearm.

“You know, Spencer…”

How cruel it was, the sound of my name on her lips at a time when I could not kiss them.

“Penelope told me you got cold feet this morning.”

“Uh,” I blabbered. My eyes darted up and down from her hand to her eyes.

I tried to find a way to pretend. It seemed so futile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luke’s eyes expertly navigating the tumultuous waves between the two of us.

It would only take one poorly worded statement, one question, one answer—one mistake—and he would know the truth.

Assuming he hadn’t already.

“It’s nothing,” I said as confidently as I could, “I uh… It had nothing to do with you.”

Great job. Super convincing.

The bustling sounds of the restaurant felt overwhelming, but still nowhere near as deafening as the way she giggled under her breath. She took her time slowly dragging her hand down my arm until it finally fell away.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said with a sigh. “I would hate to have ruined such a wonderful evening.”

Of course, she hadn’t. I had. I had become so consumed with the weight of my feelings for her that the mask I would’ve worn was heavier than any lead arrow that Eros might craft.

Even when Penelope and Luke tried so hard to help her maintain the facade that any of this was normal, I remained stubbornly stuck to the truth.

There was a goddess beside me with revenge to exact on the man who thought himself worthy of worshipping her. And, my god, she knew how to make a man suffer and squirm beneath her heel.

She didn’t even need to touch me to make my body react. Her voice alone was enough to cause goosebumps to ripple over my skin. I nearly dropped my fork against the ceramic from the shock of her speaking so boldly.

“So, Spencer, what do you like to do for fun?”

“I don’t have fun,” I answered immediately.

Just like she had the night before, she tipped her head back and laughed. She bared her neck to me and I tried not to think about how it felt against my lips. I tried to drown out the memory of her calling my name with a trembling timbre.

“Really?” she said between chuckles, “So no crazy late nights with people you’ve just met?”

Instead of answering, I just stared at her as I took a long drink of water. I didn’t bother pleading with her because I knew it wouldn’t work. My gaze was not made of saccharine attempts to please her into showing me mercy. It was heavy and filled with the rocks now lining my stomach.

Underneath the table, hidden from prying eyes, that damned woman punished my insubordination by running her foot up my leg.

I jumped hard enough that I bashed my knee against the table. It backfired—or rather, worked exactly as she’d intended it to—when she took the opportunity to rest a warm, gentle palm against my thigh.

“Are you alright?” she asked, still smiling.

“Yes. A-And the answer to your question is… no. No, I-I don’t do that.”

Smooth.

Smooth like the supple skin of her thighs as she perched herself against my hips. Stinging like the drag of her nails down my back.

I had to stop picturing her naked when her hand was on my thigh.

From the other side of the table, Penelope and Luke broke free from each other and attempted to dissipate the awkwardness ensuing between my Aphrodite and I.

At least, I would like to think Penelope had good intentions. Then again, I had scorned her first thing in the morning while still laying in a hotel room with the most beautiful manifestation of God.

“He says that,” Penelope ushered with an excited and accusatory hand gesturing wildly to me, “but he’s definitely kissed both a movie star and a serial killer, so…”

Yeah. She was pissed.

“Garcia!” I pleaded because I thought she might show me mercy.

She didn’t.

“Stop being weird and I’ll stop saying embarrassing things. Like this one time—!”

Thankfully, though, Luke was familiar with the wrath of women and had no problem neutralizing both threats with a simple question.

“(Y/n),” he called, “what about you? What do you like to do?”

Unfortunately, poorly timed questions never boded well for me.

“Most of my time alone is spent at local places,” she answered.

The truth. The terrifying, dangerous truth.

“I meet the most interesting people,” she sighed.

I could feel it on my skin. Not literally, but figuratively. What I could feel literally, was the way she gripped my thigh tighter until her nails could make marks to match the others she left behind in her wake.

I nearly whimpered. I swallowed it with a bite of food that could never taste as good as her. I had abandoned all hope of Luke not figuring out what was happening. Judging by the shit-eating grin he sported, he had probably known from the moment she’d arrived.

I was in full blown damage control, and absolutely none of it was working.

She was, though. She was working so hard at ensuring my downfall would come swiftly and in the most embarrassing manner.

“For example, yesterday, I met the most beautiful man, and he…”

With a sigh of defeat and absolutely no self-preservation, I groaned, “I’m not going to like this story, am I?”

“Why?” she snickered. She had this glimmer in her eye as she removed her hand from my thigh. “Which part are you worried about?”

She’d won. She knew she had won.

Penelope’s patience snapped like a twig beneath a boulder.

“If one of you beautiful, infuriating people doesn’t explain to me what the hell is going on at my dinner table right now, I’m gonna lose it!”

That dastardly goddess turned to me and smiled. I stared at the ceiling and prayed for a miracle.

I got Luke instead.

“These two already know each other,” he explained very gracefully with a wave of his fork in our general direction. When Penelope still didn’t understand what he was saying, he clarified, “They know each other… very well.”

“Actually, we just met last night,” I corrected.

It had been in the spirit of my incessant need to ruin everything.

“That’s definitely not what he meant,” explained my Aphrodite, who had apparently decided to join in on the celebration of my descent into madness and debauchery.

“I know,” I sighed.

As soon as I looked at the woman beside me, I couldn’t help but drown in the residual feelings left behind from Cupid’s bow. I looked at her, dressed beautifully for what she must’ve thought was another man. I thought about how her beauty never waned, only altered in its theme.

She was still smiling. I wondered how much of it had been driven by her adversarial teasing. I would be lying if I said I’d hadn’t sensed the competitive spirit in her the day before.

After all, Aphrodite could be jealous and petty. She could be vindictive and clever and, when she wanted to be, she could be human. Those were the moments where I would love her the most. The quiet vulnerabilities and wordless exchanges in the middle of the modern warfare that was a double date with an established couple on Valentine’s Day.

I’m the midst of my internal monologue of adoration for the woman, I heard a sharp, scandalous gasp come from across the table.

Followed by a salacious whisper from my Aphrodite.

“Oops.”

“Spencer!” Penelope screeched in a failed whisper, “Why the hell would you sleep with someone the night before your very thoughtful friend sets you up on a blind date?!”

Before I could respond, the woman beside me held her hand to her chest in feigned disbelief as she sarcastically cried, “Really, how awful.”

I couldn’t help but voice the obvious, despite Luke warning me not to with a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Why are you only asking me?!”

Mistake.

As the only merciful one remaining, Luke chimed in with a desperate attempt to save me from being devoured for dessert.

“He’s got a point. Not sure I’m meant to believe he was the Casanova here.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Normally, it might wound my pride, but in that moment I was willing to slaughter the beast inside me for any freedom from my current, personally crafted hell.

“No offense, Reid,” Luke managed through his lighthearted laughter. Then, he turned to the beautiful goddess beside me and offered more bashfully, “A-And no offense to you, ma’am, you’re just uh… a little intimidating.”

To her, it was the highest compliment a man could give.

“Thank you,” she purred.

I took the concession and tried to wield it as both shield and sword.

“Yes! What Luke said!” I squeaked, instinctively leaning away from her when she swayed closer. As if proximity made her more powerful, because it did. I could practically feel the warmth emitting from her. I could smell the champagne on her breath as it mixed with her perfume. My olfactory organs failed me, clinging instead to the memory of her and the way it both calmed and excited me.

Snap out of it!

“She’s the one who asked me to go to her hotel room! Ask her!”

The accused raised her hand further to cover her treacherous lips and she mimicked Penelope’s gasp. Behind lithe fingers, I saw how she still smiled.

“You can’t just ask a woman why she has sex with someone, Spencer,” she chastised playfully, “I wouldn’t answer such an impertinent question anyway, I’m a proper lady.”

For the first time of the night, I laughed. It was a loud, bitter, uncontrollable sound immediately followed by something we both knew was true.

“Oh, you are not—!”

Unfortunately (and fortunately), I wasn’t able to finish the thought because Penelope’s clutch whacked the words out of me.

“Stop it!” she scolded before bringing it down on my head for a second time.

“Ow! Why are you hitting me?!” I whined.

“Don’t slut shame her!”

Fair point.

“You should only be so lucky!” she huffed.

Then, in the spirit of the continued chaos that had led to basically everyone in the room staring at us slack jawed and fascinated, Luke decided to throw all caution and good will to the wind.

“It seems like he was that lucky,” he chuckled.

It earned us two whacks each.

We looked at each other and tried to stifle the laughter. From beside me, I heard my partner in crime snickering along with us.

Worth it, I thought.

Worshipping her was always worth whatever punishment would come.

“You two— Ugh!” she groaned in disgust as she finally took her seat. Defeated, she stubbornly remained angry only at the two of us who really should have known better. “You have ruined my plans to make these two fall in love. I hope you’re happy.”

Raising a celebratory glass to perfectly painted lips, my Aphrodite smirked.

“I’m having a great time,” she said dreamily.

Then, to make it absolutely clear that she had only been teasing for the drama of it all, she cheekily whispered to me, “Had fun last night, too.”

Penelope watched the scene unfold with an apathy that was so unlike her. It was if her excitement from her plan having worked—albeit in an unexpected way—had canceled out her anger.

In the end, she had nothing left to say but, “You two deserve each other.”

I turned to the woman in question at the same time she turned to me. I was immediately caught in the inferno of lust and adoration in her eyes. The flames felt all consuming. The longer I looked at her, the harder I fell. If I hadn’t been sitting, I’m certain I would have fallen to my knees trembling.

She knew it, too. That’s why when she smiled, it was softer and more genuine than the rest.

“There are worse fates,” she hummed.

She would know. Aphrodite was familiar with the Fates.

I, on the other hand, was a mere mortal who had sacrificed almost everything he had. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, and an overwhelming desire to kiss the goddess hidden in plain sight, I had to test my torturer one more time.

“Does this mean I can leave now?” I asked.

That time when Penelope raised her hand towards me, it was firmly grasping a knife that was pointed straight at me.

“No, you’re going to sit here and be respectful and eat your damn cake!”

Just once more.

“… She started it.”

“Eat your damn food!”

So, we did. We ate our food with calmer heads. Throughout the meal, the distance between each half of the couples diminished. Eventually, I’d even managed to summon up the courage to accept a perfectly manicured hand resting against my palm.

That night ended in an eerily familiar way. Once Penelope and Luke had abandoned us in the night, only the two of us remained. The streetlights shone down on Aphrodite in a pathetic attempt at mirroring the relationship between the sun and the moon.

She just stood there, still tragic, still beautiful. She looked off at the blanket of darkness to find any sign of stars fighting against the man made mimicries of their wonder.

I wondered if her soul seemed so sad because she had missed laying alongside the universes. I had been so enraptured by the theory that when she addressed me, I’d jumped.

“So, Spencer…”

“I’m sorry,” I replied immediately. What for? It didn’t seem to matter. I had been sorry. I was sorry for not having asked to stay.

She laughed and my heart shivered at the sound. I watched how her whole body relaxed as the joy fell from her lips.

Don’t think about kissing her.

But oh, how I wanted to.

“Please, Spencer, that was the most entertaining Valentine’s date I’ve ever been on, by far,” she said between wonderful sounds, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, good,” I strained nervously, “I had fun, too.”

A lie, but she already knew that.

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

But we still could.

“What I was going to ask was…” she trailed off. She turned to reveal a wicked smile and provocative eyes that would forever render me helpless. “You are coming home with me, right?”

All the fight left me at once. I surrendered myself to her. My head and shoulders fell with a wave of relief.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you’d never ask.”

Thank Goddess, I corrected myself. But she had already known that, too.

“Were you really planning on leaving me alone on Valentine’s Day?” she teased. She swayed closer to me until the floral scent of sweetness felt almost suffocating. The intoxicating taste of ambrosia, the indulgence of her lips haunted me still.

I fought past the lowered inhibition and overwhelming lust to offer her a more genuine vulnerability.

“Well, I uh… I found someone else I wanted to spend the day with, but she kicked me out of her hotel room.”

She accepted the piece of my heart with a godlike grace. She took my hand in hers and rested a weary head against my shoulder.

It had been soft. There was no ulterior motive in the movement. She had simply wanted to be closer to me, and I had offered her a place to perch among the mortal coil.

I thought of how different it had been from that morning. Even more so, I thought of how it had been exactly like the night before.

“Did you know it was me?” I asked.

She wordlessly tilted her head to the side with an inquisitive look in her eyes.

“I just figured you might’ve heard me say Penelope’s name.”

After a quiet, saturnine moment, she confessed in a whisper, “No, I didn’t.”

My heart sunk in my chest, if only for a moment. Like she was so loath to do, my Aphrodite willed her way into my heart and held it up with strong yet quivering hands.

“But I was hoping that you would ask me to stay.”

It was soft. It was fated. It was human.

That time, we opted not to take the chariot. Together we ventured through the concrete jungles and climbed Mount Olympus. We sought comfort in each other through the trials and tribulations that was our blasphemous feelings.

We worshipped each other in Eros’s name and never stopped to think about what would happen in the morning.

I realized that it was true that many mistakes began with a poorly timed question. But it was not the question itself, it was the timing that mattered most.

So when the time was perfect, when the sun served as her backdrop and the intoxication from Cupid’s bow had finally subsided, I would ask her again.

I would ask her to stay.

(Tell me what you thought about this piece here!)

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variousqueerthings · 2 years

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okay so another 12 episodes into season 6 and I’ll say a few overall things

1. Margaret this season is glowing! she’s crying! she’s being vulnerable! she’s opening up to Hawkeye especially!!!! she’s got a friend who’s a woman!!!!!!!!!! (did anyone else get a biiit of a lesbian feeling between the two of them? Margaret you’ve changed -- I loved you -- I love you)

And: that double episode where she and Hawkeye are lost in the middle of nowhere and end up presumably having sex -- I feel like the show is predicting all my tastes and needs??? the fact that they do have sex (which I did suspect would happen) and at a time like that where they’re both incredibly scared, and off the back of them leaning emotionally on each other during some incredibly tough times (Hawkeye telling her about Kyung Soon, Margaret telling him about Donald), the fact that Margaret -- being in a very emotionally vulnerable position + always battling against what she wants with what she feels is expected -- leans into the interpretation that it means they’re in love/starting a relationship, the falling out when Hawkeye eventually overcomes the awkwardness and tells her that he didn’t see the situation like that (and neither did she, she’s just following a script), the falling out, and the final scene!!!??? where they talk it out and realize they’re on the same page actually, and genuinely like and respect one another as friends?????? never did I think! it would go down like that!! (I’ve been ruined by all these stories about compulsory romance and sex = romance and the main guy and the main girl get together every time, to think it could be this good!?)

Also what was the intention of the framing when Margaret takes the block of wood out of Hawkeye’s thigh and he’s squirming around, because it sure looks like she’s ******* him (which... also correct and right)

hers and Hawkeye’s friendship has been especially gratifying to watch this season, as I’ve been hoping and waiting for it since the beginning, but I love seeing her open up to others -- last episode her girl friend (girlfriend) Lorraine told her that she ought to trust herself to become friends with her colleagues and she nervously asked BJ and Charles if they’d have coffee with her and of course they accepted, because Margaret is a fucking delight!

2. and then we had a series of episodes which had various degrees of serious, but mainly seemed to give lots of wonderful family dynamics (including the episode Mail Call Three which had two actual “family”s in there!) -- I almost feel too safe, like something terrible is waiting around the corner (oh yeah, the war...) -- but until then we got some wonderful stuff

- the episode where BJ has to call Peggy, just because he wants to know that she still “needs” him at all

- the whole Olympics episode

- Radar feeling strange about his mother dating a new man, and Hawkeye talking about his father (and Radar joking a bit about the idea of their parents getting together, which was such a sibling energy moment)

- Margaret choreographing making sure that Hawkeye and BJ get hosed down + running over Charles’ trumpet! (and everyone cheering her)

- Klinger and Mulcahy going out on a mission to find stolen penicillin

- too many “Potter is dad” moments to count honestly

- Hawkeye and Potter immediately springing to action to help Margaret figure out if she’s pregnant, and on her terms (not making it official)

- and especially Klinger, both with the divorce and talking about how much he loves the 4077 (if not being in Korea) and with the episode where he accidentally throws out Margaret’s ring.

3. speaking of the episode with Margaret’s ring (and Margaret), both me and my partner feel like in this season the airing date order was clearly not completely in tune with some of the development -- especially Margaret who definitely has a “before Comrades in Arms” and “after Comrades in Arms” (heh I just got the joke in the title) feeling to her + the fact that the new surgical clamp they have to travel to show in those episodes apparently doesn’t get invented until three episodes later!

Going to make a note of Margaret progression and rejuggle the season so next time I watch it, I get to feel more of that development!

4. “Temporary Duty” gave us:

- the aforementioned Margaret and Lorraine! the Feelings of it all! Margaret is just life! (do you think they ever... 😳😳😳 👉👈)

- Charles development! He and BJ banding together! For a moment the walls were down! And hopefully a taste of a wonderful future friendship!

- the scene right at the end where Hawkeye returns and is so upset that nobody liked him at the other place, and has a “oh no that’s my insecurities” moment when Charles and BJ joke that they didn’t miss him at all, before Charles hugs him and BJ then practically tackles the both of them to the floor in affection! (screams and cries, my boys!)

#im watching MASH #margaret houlihan #hawkeye pierce #charles winchester #long post #bj hunnicutt #maxwell klinger #sherman potter #father mulcahy #i have replies to some replies #ive just been brrrrrrrr overwhelmed with stuff #this show is like 2/3rds of my sanity right now

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allxthingsxglxtter · 1 year

Text

@lcnelylcves || For Hamish

“Good. You’re here.” Caradoc hadn’t even knocked on the door to Hamish’s creepy house, or on the door to his office, just striding in like he was welcome even though he knew he likely wasn’t. He likely wasn’t even a face his brother wanted to see today, but in this particular moment Caradoc didn’t care. He put his hands down on his desk, bracing himself against it as he looked him in the eye looking more angry than Caradoc had ever visibly been.

He’d decided to spend his free day yesterday in the Library, wandering the shelves before deciding to try and look up his family. See if they had stories that had made it in. Caradoc had admittedly tried looking up Gennie first, but the last name turned out to be enough to lead him to Hamish’s story. He hadn’t read the description, didn’t know anything going into it, so imagine his surprise when his mom appeared early in. As head of a weird, magic group. That was enough to wrap his head around. He would’ve skipped ahead until he recognized one of the guys from the med school, Randall also being in it, and then when Hamish finally did show up..Caradoc had had to rewind the scene and rewatch it. Leader of a freaking werewolf club? And casually talking about murdering someone like that was normal. Which, it turned out, it was.

He watched every moment, without stopping, for the whole 17 hours straight. It was a nightmare, Caradoc learning so much tragedy about his brother’s life he’d never had any idea of, as well as the rather ruthless nature of the club he ran out of the creepy house that was somehow here in Sydney. But that wasn’t even the worst of it for Caradoc, and that wasn’t really what had him openly emotional in front of his oldest brother.

“I get it. We’re not close, never have been, and that’s due in part to just, being a Duke in general how we are, and then the other, obvious reasons for why I’m not close to any of you. So, I’m gonna start this rant by stating I’m not mad you didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have expected you to, and I honestly don’t give a shit your...what, possessed by a werewolf? I guess? And sleeping with my mom, which is weird? That’s beside the point.” He shook his head, trying to refocus on what he needed to say. “I just spent the last 17ish hours watching just some of your life on a tv which is strange as it is, but in those 17ish hours I fucking lost count of how many times you nearly died. Lost count Hamish. I also lost count of how many people died and how much..death you’ve lived through, which, is also super concerning but the reasoning on most of it was...legitimate so that’s not...as bad to me. It might be, once I’ve slept and actively thought this through, but you nearly fucking died. A lot. And you signed up for it! You joined the “short is the life” club, and that’s...that thought was enough to spin in my brain fast enough that I’m here yelling at you for scaring the shit out of me. Yeah, we’re not close but you’re my brother and I love you and I don’t have to know everything about you to know that losing you would never be okay. No matter how good the cause is, you’re not worth it. So, you’re not allowed to fucking die or open up anymore hell portals or get stabbed or...any of that because you’re my brother and I can’t..I can’t fucking fathom a world where you’re not in it.”

Tears were welling in his eyes by the end of it, heartbroken and wrecked by how much pain Hamish had lived through and scared of how close and how often he’d come to losing him and had no idea. But feeling the tears in his eyes brought him back to reality a little, straightening to stand straight in front of Hamish’s desk and tense a little as he realized that not only had he swore more than ever before in his life, but he’d said a whole lot he really didn’t have any right to say to a family member that likely didn’t actually care what he thought or felt about any of it at all. Caradoc took a breath before taking a step back towards the door, deciding it was best to leave.

“I...sorry. It...I shouldn’t have just burst in here with that..I promise not to tell the others, I’ll just..I should go. Sorry.”

#the least of us: Caradoc Duke #tw: death mention #tw: murder mention

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levmada · 1 year

Note

ik you’re an mcr fan even tho u don’t talk about it all that much on here, but as a fellow levi and mcr stan i have to ask if you have any feelings/thoughts about tour officially being over because i’m in shambles

mannnnn i’ve been in love with mcr since i was 9 or 10 years old and not only is that where my love of music started but how i started to cope with my Living Situation as a kid and🧍🏻it’s rly difficult to put into words how much mcr means to me. /srs the course of my life would be different if i never started listening to them. i wouldn’t be the PERSON i am. they’re actually also… how i got into writing fanfic💀 i know alllll the lore. watched lotms more times than i can count. watched their concerts on youtube. learned every detail about frank iero and gerard way as possible. etc etc etc it’s kind of insane. i so much more than love them but ur right i don’t mention it enough on this blog lol

(bro i remember where i was on halloween 2019 when the reunion post went up on instagram. i lost my SHIT and don’t even get me started on their single. holy fuck)

this past tour would’ve been the first time i ever saw them in concert (i was too young to ever go before 2013 when they broke up rip… but on that topic in 2018 when it appeared that they were returning i remember vividly listening to their entire discography (((for not the first time… bc i did so every march 22nd aka the anniversary of when the band broke up……))) and dressing up as “””emo””” as possible for some reason only 16 year old me knows. the disappointment when i learned it was just the anniversary for the black parade and a… honestly mediocre remix? true betrayal tbh) - but then my concert was cancelled bc of stupid reasons wherein basically the organizers fucked up. at that point i’d been waiting like 3 years to see them (bc of covid), and i didn’t have the money even WITH a refund to buy another ticket or travel, so i just tapped out. it sucked.

BUT ANYWAY i’m not nearly as obsessed with them as i used to be, even though i will always love mcr and everything they stand for until i die. all that to say i haven’t been keeping up with the tour much, partly because mcr stan twitter is fucking unbearable. idk maybe the fandom just isn’t my scene anymore or there are too many young people in it, it’s hard to explain.

i’m really really really fuxking interested in what they do next though. a single being released implies an album in the future in which case i will explode, causing the heat death of the universe and i will become one with the soundwaves emanating from the music.

hope a ramble like that answers ur question🥰

OH: my number one favorite fun fact about myself is that i was born on the exact day their first album bullets was released. to this day my favorite album by them tbh

#one core memory is me listening to my first mcr song and i was scrolling thru apple music or whatever it was in 2010 on my ipod #and i saw the song mama from the black parade and the only reason i listened to it was bc that’s what i called my mom idk💀💀💀💀💀#and of fucking course i fell in love with it and the entire song put all my angst into words #and bam point of no return #KFKWJVKW sorry for rambling yeah mcr is everything 2 me #kane has mail

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

sweet lies [02]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. explicit smut, slight body worship, public sex, dirty talk, praising, toxic megumi, fwb dynamics, slight angst, body marking, sukuna bullying megumi, age gap, scratching, mentions of oral (m receiving) and mutual masturbation, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 also UHM do you guys want me to make the ending angsty or fluffy? i wrote out two versions so LOL let me know what you think! we’ll get more of the megumi scenes on the next chapter though~

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Sukuna isn’t kidding when he said he’ll have you unable to walk by the end of this.

You’ve lost count of how many times you guys have fucked.

Once more in the stalls when you thought of repaying the favor by sucking him off, followed by him growing impatient and hauling you inside his car. Both of you were too tired to go for another round, but were still very much addicted for the other’s touch that mutual masturbation seems like the best option.

Thankfully, Sukuna’s cut his nails, so having three of his fingers buried knuckle deep in you feels like absolute heaven. He’s not complaining about your smooth hands wrapped around his shaft either, especially not when you’ve had enough practice with Megumi to know just how to make a guy lose his mind. By the time you’ve made it back home, Sukuna’s grown hard again, too impatient to make it to the bed before he just fucks you raw against the wall. You’re trembling at his hold, left with no choice but to trust his strength to drop you on his cock and bounce you to his pleasure.

It’s a miracle you’ve made it on the bed.

His digital clock reads a quarter at three in the morning, and for a moment, you worry about how tired you’ll be in class tomorrow when Sukuna’s large hands grips your thighs sharply.

“Goddamn,” he hisses through clenched teeth, chuckling at the irresistible sight of your breasts bouncing before him. Limbs tangled, minds controlled with the primal need to fuck, and moans shared with his deep grunts – you somehow end up on top of him, your thighs feeling like they’re on the verge of giving up as you continue to ride his thick length.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he slaps your ass and causes your hips to rut deeper, forcing that delicious curve of his cock to meld with your walls. You throw your head back, palms planted on his chest, focused only on that burning pleasure between your thighs. “I could fuck you all night long.”

Even though you truly have no wish to, you shake your head, fingers balling into a fist. “I have class tomorrow, need to wake up early,” you protest, the words falling into deaf ears as Sukuna thrusts up into you. He must’ve noticed how you’re growing tired and took matters into his own hands, feet grounded on the mattress to pound deliriously into you. You’re debating whether to be thankful or frustrated he still has so much energy even after hours of fucking, but it honestly doesn’t matter. You’re falling into his chest, arms slipping on your equally sweat-covered bodies. Right now, you just wanted to cum – once more, again, one last time! “Ah, Sukuna, t-too much!”

“Too much?” he laughs and tangles his hand to caress your scalp, the gesture too soothing that you almost forgot he’s fucking you into oblivion. “Want me to go slow?”

“No…”

“Thought so, sweetheart,” his grin is absolutely cocky as he bends his knees in a fold, pushing you until your back rests on his muscular thighs. Your mouth falls open at his hands wrapping around your threat, keeping you right there, hips flat and grinding on his cock. “Come on. Come for me,” Sukuna urges, tightening his hold around your neck a little harder.

That’s all you need for your vision to blur and see stars, your body’s shaking uncontrollable. He’s thrusting with all his power and energy that it feels like you’re nothing but a hole on top of him, tongue falling open in a wanton manner as your drool trails down your chin.

You look filthy, you feel filthy, and yet, Sukuna sees it entirely different.

“So – fucking – gorgeous, fuck. I woulda fucked you sooner if I didn’t feel weird about it.”

“What?”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart,” he smirks at your half fucked out state. Sukuna rolls his hips in such a mind numbing manner that you end up staring at the ceiling, trying your hardest to decipher the colors of his room to get a grip of yourself. But he feels so hot, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, your puffy lips encasing him with a translucent ring of cum and it feels so fucking good you don’t really understand what he’s saying anymore. “Did you really think I never saw you in my dreams?” he slaps your ass again, the reflexive response of tightening around him pulling a deep groan from the beautiful man beneath you. “I have such a sexy roommate, I couldn’t help it.”

“Then why didn’t you – ah, right there, shit – tell me?”

“Cuz,” he snickers and finally lets you breathe, your pupils blowing wide from the sudden flow of air. Sukuna kneads your breasts greedily, never stopping his mind-numbing rhythm of ramming deep into you. Your body burns, your thighs ache, your pussy feels sensitive but you can’t find the energy to stop him. Instead, you fall prey, failing in your mission to keep him wrapped around your fingers because now you’re wrapped around his cock, and you were quite fucking addicted to it. “You’re my friend’s student. Felt so fucking wrong.”

“What’s the difference now?”

“The difference is,” Sukuna’s face contorts into something of discomfort for a moment before he leans forward, his sturdy grip homing in on your hips again. You feel his searing breath on your ear, so parching it puts the warmth of your pussy to shame. “Having you like this has never felt so right, and I’ll keep fucking you if you let me.”

“I-I’d let you,” you concede absentmindedly and capture his lips for a sloppy kiss, tongues giving up on a battle of dominance. You’re always so clingy when you’re about to come, something Megumi never fails to chastise you for, and you fear Sukuna might push you away as you wrap an arm around him, nails painfully scratching down his back. Red marks leave a trail on its wake until his blood pierces through the sheets, the pain manifested through the increasing roughness of his pace. Now it’s your turn to whimper in his ear, pulling the man close and tugging harshly at the ends of his hair. Gosh, were you actually crying? “Sukuna, I’m close! Yes, yes, right there!”

Sukuna groans at the erotic sounds you reward him with. “Come for me, that’s right, ohhhh,” he stills inside you, his seed spilling deep inside you. You wince at the burst of warmth spreading all over your belly and Sukuna chuckles at your bulging belly. He presses down on it to coax his cum to trickle all over his cock, and he’s fucking filthy – you learn easily – to watch you make a mess on his cock with a childish smile on his face.

You push yourself off him and fall to his side, him following suit not long afterwards. The room feels completely stuffed from your intense fucking, the bruises on your body and scratches on his back a huge attestment to that.

Your legs remain wide open as you clench around nothing, his cum oozing out like a waterfall. Sukuna (that damned pervert) dips two fingers into your hole for one last moment just to drench his fingers in it, his eyes lit up in wonder while he lets it web around his fingers. You snicker at his actions and roll to his side, eyes fluttering close from the wave of exhaustion that comes into full force.

The lingerie set you intended to wear for Megumi was now ripped at the other side of the room, discarded, forgotten – merely evidence of a moment that had never been given to him.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel bad, not even when Sukuna faces you, his cheeks squished by his soft pillows. “I’m spent. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. My gym sessions can’t compare to this.”

“You go to the gym?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t born this gorgeous, you know. I had to work hard for this,” Sukuna gestures to his body. You can’t help but follow the gestures and admire the hard planes of his muscle ripped above one another, the smatter of dark hair leading down his hips adding to his already immense sexual charisma. It makes you want to jump on him all over again, and you have to bite your lip to resist that urge, rolling your eyes at him in favor of letting him know you could totally go for another round.

“Dork.”

“Got me laid though, was worth the effort,” he jokes, and you both laugh.

It’s actually…weird, to laugh so casually with someone like this. It might be normal for Sukuna in his past sexual endeavors, but it’s totally a different thing for you. You and Megumi had never even bothered with aftercare. As long as he’s satisfied himself, he’d clean himself off in the bathroom and wear his sweatpants, winking at you before he leaves you alone all over again. The memory – albeit not really a regrettable one – is still painful each time you’re reminded you’ll keep coming back to him.

But are things different now? Could you go back to Megumi? You only ever wanted to fuck Sukuna because you’re sad and horny, but it wouldn’t be fair to him, especially when your roommate has been nothing but nice to you. Besides, him being a little more decent doesn’t immediately equate he’s different than Megumi.

For all you know, you could just be another cheap fuck. Sukuna is older and sexier, after all, he’s clearly had a lot more experience than you do.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna rests his head on his palms, elbows flat on the bed as he turns to you. The expression on his face is unreadable, but there’s some sort of softness behind it – a softness you’re not really familiar with.

“Hey. I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, not everything, anyway, but whatever we have right now, I want you to know it’s not because I see just as a pretty pussy, okay?” he says with a straight face, but you really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up because Sukuna smirks, mischievous eyes darting back and forth to your soaked pussy and bare breasts. “Although you do have a pretty pussy. Can I eat you out again?”

With that, you snatch the pillow underneath him and whack it straight at his face. Sukuna laughs at your protests, the sound growing louder and a lot more mocking the harder you hit him. “Gosh, Sukuna, shut up!”

You end up hitting him way too many times in the face that he can’t get his words through, and before you could react, Sukuna’s ripped the pillow away from you. He cages you in his arms and hovers over you once more, his boneless dick grazing the insides of your thigh. It’s not meant to be sexual, and nothing about his stance gives off anything that shows he wants to do it again, but you can’t help but feel aroused, shifting your legs up and down the bed as you squirm.

“Seriously though,” he repeats, “We can be casual, or this could be a one time thing. Card’s all yours to play. If you want to forget everything tomorrow, I’d gladly do it. Let’s just go back to the way we were-”

“Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really think I was only using you to distract myself?”

Sukuna’s lips flatten into a line. “I’m not stupid,” he says somberly, “I could tell you were still thinking about him. Not that I mind, though, you can’t stop yourself from loving someone,” Faintly, you’re distracted by his thumbs rubbing at your pulse point. It’s so lulling you want to fall asleep, but Sukuna isn’t done talking. “My point is…you don’t have to worry about being weird with me. We could just be friends with benefits, if you want, and not the kind you have with your boy toy either. ”

His blatantly catches you off guard and your eyes widen before they narrow at him, trying your best to hide your embarrassment. If Megumi was painfully honest, Sukuna’s ridiculously blunt that his mere words make your heart do weird things you’d rather not feel.

Careful, you remind yourself, Megumi is the one you want. You have to keep reminding yourself that before your feelings get the best of you. It’s Megumi, it’s always been Megumi and it always will be Megumi. Sukuna is just your roommate who’s nice enough to take your mind off things. You only wish you weren’t lying too much in case he gets the wrong idea you’re leading him on, but then again, isn’t that what you’re doing?

Friends with benefits or not – you still have no plans on getting involved with this guy any longer.

It’s always Megumi. You just really needed a quick fuck, someone whose dick didn’t belong with the guy you’re so hung up on over. The change feels nice and you definitely feel a lot better than the last time you met Megumi, but this guilt…it tastes bitter on your tongue, too heavy to swallow and ignore. It’s always Megumi, you tell yourself again in an attempt to relieve your pain.

Though it doesn’t subside and you huff in exasperation, turning away from Sukuna. You can’t stand looking at him right now.

“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, but the tears – the guilt, the heartbreak of not being Megumi’s lover, the regret and the ironic need to be closer to Sukuna feels all so confusing – all threaten to burst through. You don’t want him to see you cry, that would be lame, so you scoot closer to him and kiss his shoulder as you shyly ask, “C-can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “You don’t have to sound too nervous to ask.”

“Sorry, it’s just-”

“He never does that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not him,” Sukuna answers confidently, surprising you when he grabs your ass to press you flush against him. You’re both sweaty and hot to the point it’s uncomfortable, but Sukuna smells so sweet with his lingering cologne that you can’t help yourself from planting your face in his neck, breathing in the little hums he makes. Sukuna kisses the crown of your head – which is a little too sweet than you’d like – while his other hand runs down your back in a slow, sensual manner. Hell, it feels close to body worshipping, and you hate that you silently want more of this. “I’d cuddle you every day if you asked me to.”

“You’re surprisingly sweet,” you voice with a smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles from the low laughter, and like that, you cling to him like he’s the only sturdy pillar in your life. It’s pathetic, maybe even desperate, but if he doesn’t mind, then why should you?

However, the moment is quickly ruined when the bell rings. “Shit, I forgot he was coming over!”

Sukuna glares at the door and holds you tighter, almost possessively, and refuses to let you go even as you squirm under him. “At three in the morning?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to meet him right now,” you groan helplessly.

Sukuna shoots you a blank look after that, then shoots out of the bed in an instant. You watch as he quickly dresses up in a fresh pair of sweatpants, grabbing a random hoodie from the back of his chair, presumably to hide the scratch marks. You have to hide your smile behind your hand because he looks so drool-worthy with marks littered on his already marked skin, and the fact he lets you mark him is even hotter.

He pauses at the door for a moment, pointing a finger at where you peered up at him curiously. “Stay there. I’ll talk to him and say you went out or whatever. Just make sure to silence your phone in case he calls. Better yet, turn it off.”

Sukuna closes the door behind him, already on the way to the entrance just as you press your ears against the door to eavesdrop. There’s a slight shuffling before the door unlocks, then, “Why the fuck did you lock-” Megumi pauses in his words, and you can perfectly picture his infamous scowl painting his handsome features already. Gosh, you wish you could actually see it, but if Megumi catches you sleeping with someone else, he might totally lose interest in you. That’s not something you could afford to happen.

“Oh. You’re her roommate.” You snigger at his usual what the fuck tone – how Megumi of him.

“Hey, kid, it’s a little too late for a visit, don’t you think?” Sukuna taunts, and it takes everything in you to not burst through the door at that moment. You’re stuck between wanting to laugh and crying, mostly because you would love and hate for Megumi to get riled up. “Do your parents know you’re here? Kids shouldn’t be out this late.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I’m in uni,” he defends, “Do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her.”

Deciding fuck it, you open the door by an inch, just enough to peek. As expected, Megumi is glaring behind Sukuna’s shoulders in search of you. Meanwhile, Sukuna’s completely calm, checking his nails boredly as if Megumi isn’t fuming in front of him. And boy, do you know how much Megumi hates being ignored. “Oh, I think she went out, I don’t know why though. House was empty when I got here.”

“She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

At Megumi’s imposing tone, Sukuna tilts his head to scrutinize Megumi. Now that you’re seeing them together, Sukuna’s twice the size of Megs, their height and shoulder width too different to start comparing. But knowing Megumi, he’s not going to back down from a tattooed guy twice his size, not even as he sarcastically remarks, “Ain’t you her friend? She should be telling you that kind of stuff.”

Truthfully, you expected he would put up more of a fight. The two of them share a heated staring competition before Megumi scoffs, the first one to look away. “Whatever,” he dismisses, “Tell her to pick her damn phone up. I’ve been calling for the past hour.”

“I think I should tell her to get better friends.”

“What was that?”

“I said get home safely,” Sukuna chirps. Even with his back turned to you, you could tell Sukuna’s just further pressing his buttons with a grin that’s not meant to be inviting at all. Just when you think it’s done, however, Sukuna finishes off with, “Kid.”

Megumi rages. His blue eyes flame into something feral, his fists balled at his sides. He’s always had a temper issue and you nearly reveal yourself to stop whatever fight is about to ensue, but Sukuna’s already closing the door, ridding any opportunity for the younger one to retaliate. At the sound of the door closing, Sukuna leans against the door, his smile still plastered on his face as if he knows you’re watching the whole time. He meets your eyes from the slight peep of his door, waving his hands sarcastically.

“Sukuna, you didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Sorry,” he isn’t apologetic at all. “Next time I’ll be nicer to your asshole crushes,” he adds with a slight roll of his eyes and you punch his chest playfully. You don’t stop him from grabbing your wrists to embrace you in a hug that doesn’t seem so platonic – but not so suggestive either. Sukuna rests his chin on top of your hand while he sways you both side to side, his voice muffled in your hair. “I understand why you’re attracted to him though. He’s really handsome.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agree sadly, thinking of how much it’s really all a waste Megumi has to be like that. “Just sucks his personality ruins everything.”

“A pretty face is always deceiving,” Sukuna suddenly pulls away and holds you an arm’s length away. “Hey, want to have early breakfast?”

“I think that would be late dinner,” you frown at him.

“Whatever, food is food,” he responds rather excitedly, and you watch as Sukuna rummages through the fridge. Now that you think about it, having sex so much really took a toll on you, and your stomach grumbles loudly. Sukuna hides his chuckles through the fridge but you hear him anyway, shouting at him that you’re not hungry. “Wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Now go get cleaned and changed, I’ll make something for you.”

If anyone were to tell you that a good fucking is all that’s needed for you to immediately form a new kind of friendship with your roommate, you’d call them weird. Sukuna isn’t necessarily out of reach, you and him just simply didn’t cross paths.

But now, you’re dressed comfortably in his boxers and the oversized shirt you stole from him, eating the slightly burn cheese sandwich he’s made, sharing conversation and laughing with him like you’ve been doing it for such a long time. Your sandwich is actually half forgotten on the plate as you whack your palms on the counter, “That’s how you and Prof Gojo met? I never would’ve expected you guys fought over a girl!”

“He was fucking annoying in high school,” Sukuna grumbles over an angry bite, “He was getting all the girls that when someone confessed to me, the hottest chick, no less, he straight up punched me in the face,” you laugh as you imagine the memory of a younger, already rebellious looking Sukuna getting smacked by the even more intolerable Gojo Satoru. Sukuna is lost in his own memories as well, shaking his head from around the last bites of his bread. It’s clear he hates the burnt crust judging from the way he turns a little green, but he’s bragged about his cooking skills so proudly that he has to save face in front of you. “Ah, such good times,” he muses before wincing at his own words, dropping his bread in disgust. “Damn, I sound old, don’t I?”

“You’re only like, five years older than me, it’s fine,” you giggle, “I like the maturity that comes with older people. You’re a lot easier to be with than guys my age.”

“Please,” Sukuna smirks, “Just say you like fucking older men. I won’t judge.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would be jumping over the counter to strangle your roommate who’s now running like hell, your laughter bursting through the once silent apartment, you would call them a liar. But now, you and Sukuna are panting on the floor, too tired from sprinting all around before calling it quits. Maybe it’s a lie – maybe this connection will never really be that much of a big deal – but as long as this lie and play pretend of friendship lasts, you’ll just enjoy every sweet moment of it.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed) (bold can’t be tagged) @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #sukuna imagines #sweet lies: part two

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leejungchans · 2 years

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a very lush holidays : l.sm

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lee seokmin (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) | none (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour if you squint, meet-cute au

note | also for ficscafe’s holiday event <33 not sponsored by lush but they totally should

summary: in which you have a new favourite customer.

a/n: dedicated to my favourite little lush saleslady @seungcy 😻 hehe ily wifey muah muah!! and happy holidays/merry chrysler (if you celebrate) everyone!! ❤️ i hope everyone’s doing well!!

“Hi, welcome to LUSH! Be sure to check out our Christmas collection, they’re great for gifts this time around!”

The group of teenage girls who just walked in through the door offer you small nods and shy smiles, giggling amongst themselves while ushering one another over to the bath bombs section. You watch with a fond smile as they delightfully fill the paper bags with bath bombs, the scene reminding you of excited children loading up their candy baskets on Halloween.

Working retail can be tough, but you honestly don’t mind your job at LUSH Cosmetics. Sure, some customers can be a handful and you’ve had to break up one too many fights over the last Snow Fairy body spray, but you adore your coworkers and your workplace smells invigoratingly of fragrance oils (your theory is that it works better than coffee), so it really could be worse.

You hum along to the Christmas song playing in the store as you rearrange some of the soap bars, thinking to yourself about how odd it is that there aren’t as many customers as you usually get around this time, when most people are doing their holiday shopping.

There’s a tap on your shoulder when you’re refilling the paper bags at the bath bombs station, and you turn to find a boy around your age smiling back at you, nervously playing with his fingers. He’s the very epitome of ‘cozy’, you think, what with his fluffy hair, oversized glasses, and chunky knit sweater.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, “I was wondering if you could help me.”

You immediately abandon what you were doing, sirens going off in your head because Beep beep! Cute boy needs your help! “Of course! Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes briefly scanning the colourful display behind you. “No, not really. I was invited to a holiday party and we’re doing a gift exchange,” he explains, “I’ve heard stuff from here are great as presents, but I’ve never been in one of your stores until now and… I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the choices.”

“I totally get it,” you reassure him with an encouraging smile, “I was completely lost when I first started working here too, but I hope after today you’ll be able to find something that you like! Would you like to start with our holiday items?”

His beam rivals the sun as he nods, much like an excited puppy as you lead him to the section for seasonal items.

“This gift set is one of our most popular ones, it’s called Little Snow Fairy and you get a bath bomb and a shower gel, they’re cotton candy and bubblegum-scented.” You grab a tester for the shower gel from the shelf and pop open the lid, letting the boy get a whiff of the shimmering, sweet-smelling product.

His eyes widen dramatically as he turns to you with his mouth agape. “Woah, this smells really good!”

“Right?” you agree excitedly, happy whenever a customer shares your enthusiasm, “it’s a bestseller for a reason! We also have this set called The Night Before Christmas—”

“Aw, I love that this one’s shaped like a polar bear,” the boy coos as he leans in to get a closer look at the bath bomb, “is that lavender?”

“Yeah! Both of them are lavender-scented, so it’s a bit more universal in case the person you’re giving it to doesn’t like sweet smells. It’s really relaxing to use in the bath too.”

“That sounds nice, and I think you’re right—it’s probably the safer option to gift when I don’t know who’s gonna receive it,” he says, carefully taking a set off the shelf and placing it in his basket before turning back to you, gaze expectant. “Is there anything else you recommend from here?”

“As gifts or for personal use?”

He grins, pearly-white teeth peeking from behind his rosy lips. You wonder what lip balm he uses. Maybe you should see if he wants one from here. “Surprise me.”

The two of you make small talk as you essentially give him a tour of the entire store, explaining and showing to him all the different products you think he’d like. You don’t mind one bit, though, because he’s one of the sweetest customers you’ve ever met and it makes you genuinely happy to see him enjoying himself. And not only do you learn that his name is Seokmin, you also find out that he’s incredibly hilarious.

“This smells and looks yummy,” he comments when you demonstrate a bar soap on his hand at one of the sinks. “What’s it called?”

“Honey, I Washed The Kids.”

“I hope they didn’t make too much of a mess.”

“Very funny,” you say with a teasing roll of your eyes, his giggles reaching your ears soon after, “I’m serious, that’s literally what it’s called.” Despite having met him just half an hour ago, talking to Seokmin feels like catching up with an old friend, surprising yourself with how comfortable you are around a stranger’s presence.

His warm eyes fall on your face as you wash away the foamy lather on his hand, a smile stretching across his lips at the adorable way your nose scrunches when you’re focused.

“Thanks, now my hand smells like dessert.” He brings his hand up to his face, softly sniffing at the caramel scent that lingers on his skin. “And the fact that it looks like a dessert too, has anyone actually taken a bite out of these things?”

“If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me if they could do that, I wouldn’t have to work anymore,” you joke. “None of our products should ever be consumed, but it never stops people from trying anyways.”

Hearty laughter, reminiscent of a roaring fire on a freezing winter night, bubbles up out of Seokmin. “Just because it’s natural doesn’t mean it’s always edible, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“Like poop.”

“You’d make a fantastic LUSH salesperson.”

He wriggles his eyebrows at you with a cheeky smile. “Does this mean you wanna be coworkers with me?”

You can’t help but smile back as he grabs a bar of Honey, I Washed The Kids. “I mean, if bath bombs and bar soaps with… interesting names are your calling, then feel free to send in an application.”

He looks down at his overflowing basket. “Does LUSH offer employee discounts?”

Seokmin looks on rather embarrassedly as you ring him up ten minutes later. “Y’know, I never expected myself to get so much stuff for my first time here… most of these aren’t even gifts! They’re for me!”

You briefly look up from wrapping his gift exchange present to shoot him a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, happens all the time. But in all seriousness, I’m really glad you had fun and found what you needed! I’m sure whoever gets your present will love it, and I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”

“Not even a little?” he teases.

“Well… maybe just a little,” you admit with a shy grin as you carefully arrange his purchases in a large bag. Along with his receipt, you also throw in some samples like you’d normally would (okay, maybe you slipped in a few more than usual) before gently nudging the bag towards him.

“It was nice meeting you, Seokmin,” you tell him, feeling your cheeks warm at your words, “I hope you enjoy your holidays.”

His eyes crinkle up into adorable crescents as he beams brightly. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/N! Thank you so much for helping me out today, and I’m sorry if I took up too much of your time.”

“No, no, don’t apologise! I had lots of fun talking to you! Feel free to stop by more often.”

“I definitely will. I’m pretty sure today’s the beginning of my LUSH obsession.”

You giggle, more thankful than ever that the store is unusually empty so you can keep talking to him without worrying about holding up the line. “Then… I guess I’ll see you around?”

Seokmin nods enthusiastically, fluffy hair bouncing along with the movement. “Of course! And—uh… how should I say this…”

Fondness blooms in your chest as he stumbles over his words, your curiosity growing simultaneously as you wonder what else he has to say.

“I’m not too sure if bar soaps and bath bombs are my calling yet… but I’d love to hang out with you outside your job because you seem really cool!” he blurts out, the tips of his ears now a bright red as your eyes widen at his sudden admission, “I can give you my number, o-only if you want, of course! No pressure, r-really! I—uh—”

“Seokmin, I’d love to hang out,” you interrupt gently, and he returns your smile as you reach into his bag for his receipt with burning cheeks, quickly scribbling your number on it using the marker you snagged from the pen holder in the corner. “Don’t lose it,” you joke to ease his nerves, snugly tucking the receipt in between his purchases.

“I’ll guard it with my life,” he responds in an equally lighthearted manner, eyes twinkling with happiness, “after all, we have kids to wash, honey.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch his retreating figure, and while you knew you’d have to endure your coworkers’ relentless teasing for the rest of your shift after they witnessed your entire exchange, you can’t bring yourself to mind all that much when you’re looking forward to a text from a certain bespectacled boy.

from: unknown number

[18:32] hi y/n, it’s seok!!

[18:32] do you wanna go out for coffee soon? i know a super cute place downtown :>

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charthanry · 2 years

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Fade to Black: Ranking All 12 BBS Episode Endings (for Science)

I’ve always been impressed with how P’Aof chooses to end each episode. He saves his bigger moments for the final scenes that usually wallops us with emotional impact leaving us to go down clown theory rabbit holes for a week before surprising us all over again. Some might say it’s his signature move.

I’ve decided these endings need to be ranked for science purposes and because I’m a glutton for torturing myself. This became a much harder challenge than I initially thought (seriously, try it and understand my pain). But after much reshuffling, I’ve made my final choices and am sticking with them (keep the edit button away from me). To make this fair, and all things remaining the same, I am only including endings that are shown before P’Aof’s director credit title. This means all the bonus scenes don’t count (yes, the seaweed finger-licking scene and Pran, it’s not a porno! don’t make the cut). It breaks my heart, but it’s only fair that we judge P’Aof’s endings in the way he meant for us to see them and that’s before the fade to black.

12th // EP2 - The dumbass friends destroy the bus stop.

I think there’s a fandom consensus that this is the weakest episode ending of the series. Although narratively some might argue that this scene was necessary to move the story forward, it still felt jarring and out of place all the same. This is because the scene prior to this is Pran checking out a new potential dorm room to move into and Pat stalking showing up to stop him. After some bantering (flirting) it ends with them engaging in some very heated wrestling on the bed (the first of many). To P’Aof’s credit, the brawl did fall in line with what we already knew about the two opposing friend groups (that they’re moronic dumbasses: Korn and Wai or mindless followers: everyone else). I have never been a fan of shaky camera action so I’m glad that this episode’s ending happened early on and we got it out of the way.

11th // EP9 - The Pran and Ming stare down.

I’m not sure if it’s because we as a fandom became more adept at guessing P’Aof’s next moves by this point, but this episode’s ending was the worst kept secret ever. We knew it was coming, all signs were leading to a parental run-in so the shock factor was lost (at least on me) and with it some of it’s impact. I will say that this is the first time Pran was face to face with Pat’s dad without Pat also being there so it was interesting to see how Pran would handle it. Everyone’s acting in this scene was top-notch from Pran’s lingering huge smile to him being shocked and flustered, Pa’s uh-oh face, mom’s look of dread and Ming’s complete confusion with a tinge of something more sinister underneath. All four played their roles (and faces) perfectly. It’s just lower on my list for emotional impact.

10th // EP1 - The hopeful beginning.

The pilot episode’s ending sealed it for me. This series was going to be capital-S Special. There was so much build up here. The editing choices were interesting too. At the very end of the episode we have PatPran walking towards their rooms, one right after the other. And we learn that they’re neighbors and immediately the fandom as a collective goes: Oooh this is gonna be fun. But it’s also the scene leading up to this reveal that speaks volumes. Pran consciously makes the decision to wear the watch that Pat returned to him as kids. He does so while smiling to himself and this is our first glimpse into Pran’s feelings for Pat. We know now that this watch will never leave his wrist again and this knowledge on rewatches just zings straight to my heart. Well played, BBS.

9th // EP6 - The whoever falls first loses.

Are you surprised this isn’t higher on the rankings? Honestly, me too. This was a tough decision but all the remaining episodes were so incredible that it forced me to push this one lower on the list. We know everything that is going on here, we know their individual reasons for making this bet. Pat is letting Pran call the shots by being patient and keeping their relationship familiar and status quo for him. So yeah let’s go ahead and bet on who can get the other to yield first. It’s their thing. We all know that Pat’s already all in at this point but he wants to give Pran the time and space to get there as well. Also, I’m a sucker for scenes that take the characters outside of their normal environments so this whole mood with the boat and the lights in the background is an aesthetic feast.

8th // EP3 - The I just like seeing your face...when you lose.

I go back and rewatch this scene a lot. Our boys are so soft here, especially Pran. The beginning of this scene shows Pran pacing in front of Pat’s door working up the nerve to say a simple thank you, but more so because he wants to spend time with Pat (after an entire episode of time spent together, the boy can’t get enough. We get it Pran, we’re the same), we know this from his have you eaten yet? And immediately after turning down Pran’s unspoken offer to eat together, Pat is the one to extend their conversation by returning his guitar. For those keeping count, this is the second item Pat is returning to him and we already know about the significance of the watch. The guitar becomes even more so. This scene cements the lengths that Pat would go to get Pran to look at him LIKE THAT (we all know the look so no screenshot necessary) only Pat being the idiot he is doesn’t recognize his feelings yet making this moment that much more remarkable on rewatch. And to up the ante even further after Pat goes back to his room, we have a thoughtful-looking Pran take several beats and looks down at his watch, hugs the guitar, returns to his room only to open it again and flip the door tag from sad to happy. Pat did all that, he made Pran happy and the entire fandom melts.

7th // EP8 - The curtain drop.

This scene and this episode, oh boy. This was the ending that had me literally up on my feet and gasping, going OH SHIT! He didn’t! But in fact, P’Aof did. For shock and emotional impact this was the one that grabbed me by the throat. I felt like I was Pat when Pran flew in out of nowhere with the kick straight to the chest. I love that we see Pat looking at Pran first and the concern for him is plain and clear on his face. Pran is Pat’s priority. Then the camera pans to everyone’s reactions from least effected (play crew) to Pran’s friends to Korn (he actually looks concerned for them here on rewatch, oh Korn you soft puppy) to the most effected of all, Wai (the Weasel... or as I like to call him the Waisel). The building music, camera angles, the reactions and then PatPran’s faces as they look at each other and then up at Wai in the control booth... it is all so, so well done. This episode ending had me dying to get through the week to find out what happens next.

6th // EP4 - The would you like me (if you were her?)

I desperately wanted to rank this one so much higher because Nanon served and ATE this scene. No, correction- he served, ate it, drove it home and then took it to school the next day. Nanon is a top-tier level actor and this scene right here cements that in the annals. This is the first episode where he made me cry. The first emotional punch of the series and man was it a tough one to watch. In this beautiful aching scene we see that Pran, even in the midst of going through his feelings still grabs at the chance to watch Pat sleep with a small smile on his face. And that by itself is everything we need to know about Pran. He knows he can’t have Pat, he knows it. So he’ll take all the small moments that he can have and quietly tuck them away, safeguarding them from others, especially Pat. The music, the flashback montage, the mood lighting but especially the acting -- are all so incredibly well done. I consistently come back to this scene everytime I want to die a little. This is the scene that I’ll tell first time BBS watchers who are on the fence about the show (do these people even exist? hello?) to just try and get to the end of EP4 and see if you aren’t invested. I dare you. And in the rare case that this scene doesn’t move you? Sorry to break the news, but you’re a robot. You should go get that checked out.

5th // EP7 - The I always let my lover win.

Finally, at last our boys give into their feelings and become boyfriends. Pat wins by losing and we’re all winners for it. This episode’s ending is interesting in that it departs in style from all the episodes before it, there isn’t a linear story here. We find out that Pat yielded to Pran long before we saw him show up to rescue him with the play. It was a little confusing at first, but on subsequent watches, it works. I love that Pat confesses that he’s lost while staying within the confines of the play’s dialogue. This double meaning is intriguing because no one else understands it except for them, it’s like they’re having a secret conversation out in the open. It’s fascinating how P’Aof chose to end the bet this way. We all learn Pat was always willing to lose, that to be together or not has always been Pran’s decision, but it’s that HUGE SMILE Pran gives Pat when he sees him after turning around- THAT is Pat’s payoff for losing, that’s his big WIN. To get Pran to look at him like that. Then we move to Pran finally feeding Pat his specially-cooked curry and the intimacy in this scene is so sweet and endearing that we almost feel like we’re intruding on their private moment. Then of course it all gets ruined by Pa needing to pee, pfft.

4th // EP11 - The let's go home. Good luck, buddy.

The break up may have been fake but the tears were real. Why did Pat cry in front of their houses if he knew the break up wasn’t real? Eighty percent of this is audience fake out but narratively speaking, it’s because he wasn’t sure if going back to being fake enemies would mean they’d make it. Pat is a very open person, we’ve established that he doesn’t like being Pran’s dark secret. The doubts he has shows here but he accepts any part of Pran that he can have, out in the open or not, and this decision to go back into hiding makes everything that much harder for Pat. I think it’s not until years later when they’re no longer outwardly trying to fool everyone that Pat begins to breathe a little easier, knowing for certain that Pran isn’t going anywhere and will continue to fight alongside him. Everything about this ending, the what if our families didn’t hate each other montage, the duologue as they show us their ideal world, Pran singing our song really points to the belief that it’s over for them. And it’s a crushing blow to us as the audience. I thought of ranking this lower because most of it is audience manipulation but it’s such a great con and achieved what it set out to do so it deserves it’s spot here.

3rd // EP5 - The I was depressingly lonely (without you).

The first emotional ending where we see both of them experiencing it at the same time. This scene had the best music score so far in the series. We commend the acting and directing on this show (as we should) but the music selection is on another level, especially here. They went with a song that has slow guitar chords as Pat confesses how much he missed Pran when he wasn’t around, asks him that all important question what are we if not enemies and not friends? to gradually move into soaring drum beats as they kiss. Perfection. We see Pat timidly pull back to guage Pran’s reaction but knowing what we know of Pran (who will grab at anything Pat-related when he can, to store for safe keeping later), he pulls Pat in for that deeper kiss, all his repressed feelings going into it. This was the moment we (and Pat) got to see all of Pran laid bare. And it’s magnificent. This episode’s closing seconds is interesting in that we get two different reactions to the kiss. Pat’s is relief that he finally has a name to call these feelings threatening to burst out of him and Pran’s is defeat and turmoil. And both are oh so relatable.

2nd // EP10 - The I can't take it anymore. Let's get away from here.

This episode’s ending was a cinematic experience. I’ve cried in this series before, but this was the first that had me UGLY crying. It was unexpected two episodes removed from the finale. I’ve written about my reaction to this scene before so I’ll just reiterate what I said here. The beauty is in the breakdown. Pran’s breakdown here gutted me. All these years of repression just poured out of him and you can just feel how tired he is of holding it in. He finally has someone who he can lean on to help him shoulder all this burden. And damn if it doesn’t feel both soul-crushing and satisfying when he lets it out. BUT...it’s Pat’s quiet strength here that stays with me after we fade to black. And Ohm absolutely slays here. Pran’s sobs can be heard around the world but Pat holding back his own devastation to care for Pran is just....everything. Because we KNOW it’s not in Pat’s nature to hold back and conceal anything. When he wants Pran to know something, he communicates it immediately. But him letting his tears silently fall while he comforts Pran is just truly heartbreaking. It’s him saying let me set aside my own breakdown for yours. Let me do this for you. And in this sense it speaks to EVERYTHING we know about Pat. Of who he is to his core. Sacrificing himself for others. Putting Pran’s needs above his own. And that is just so beautiful and noble and it fucking hurts.

1st // EP12 - The perfect ending.

The ending that takes us back to the beginning. Bookends. An ending that is so full and complete that it’s deserving of two screen shots. We’re left with the firm belief that PatPran will make it, that whatever this world has in store for them, they’ll face it together. That unspoken family approval and long distance relationships have no shot at tearing them apart. They are in it for the long haul. To close it out in the final seconds with their younger selves is P’Aof’s parting gift to us as it depicts how it’s always been between our boys, that despite all the family rivalry, despite being taught to hate and not care for one another, these two found their way to each other anyway. And this knowledge is so inspiring in its messaging: that you carve your path in life. And the life that you choose is the best life simply because it’s of your own making and no one can ever take that from you.

):):):):):):):)

Thank you very much for reading and following me down this incredible journey of recapping BBS’ episode endings. My next challenge to myself is the daunting task of full episode rankings so stay tuned for that.

#bad buddy #bad buddy series #pranpat #pat x pran #bad buddy the series #episode endings #paof #my rankings for all episode endings #bbs #what a ride they gave us huh #ohmnanon #my stuff #i'm crazy for doing this #but it's done and I'd like to get your thoughts #do you agree or disagree with my selections??#please let me know #i'm dying to know what you think #thank you for reading

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shipsandlattes · 3 years

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So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already.

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long.

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold.

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean and @inacatastrophicmind!

#supernatural #SPN #DeanCas #destiel #deanwinchtser #castiel #15x18 #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #actor #acting #I ship it #shipper #i love you #spn spoilers #opinion piece #thoughts #my two cents #ships and lattes

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talesofstyles · 3 years

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you��re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

307 notes · View notes

j-j-ehlby-writes · 3 years

Text

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

“What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink.

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself.

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that.

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction.

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve.

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @princess-evans-addict

#almost #Chris Evans #christopher robert evans #christopher evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #jj ehlby writes

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

Summer Lovin’

pairing: fred weasley x reader

requested: no

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut

A/N: Hi. I hope this is good because i had the idea and just had to write it. Like i’ve mentioned before, I’ve written smut and steamy scenes before, but nothing that I’ve ever really posted and I truly have no idea what i’m doing so I just feel like it’s really bad. Like I’ve debated with myself for a week if wanted to post this or not and finally decided to just go for it and see what happens with it. So, yeah, I hope you like it. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated (even if you want to send me your comments through an anon ask). Just let me know what’s good or what could be better, yeah? & also, just want to through it out there again that I am taking requests (check out my holiday prompt list) as well as doing a sleepover event for the next week or so in celebration of 300 followers <3 Take advantage of it! Xx

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^let me know if you’d like to be added/removed! (& pls let me know if you’re 18+/comfortable with being tagged in smut) Xx

It had been a rough summer to say the least...at least in Fred’s opinion. He absolutely loved having you stay at the burrow, having been best friends with you since first year, but it truly was quite torturous at times.

He had long ago realized he had feelings for you, but pushed them away in fear of risking your friendship. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you as a friend, but godrick was it hard to keep pretending he wasn’t totally attracted and in love with you.

Watching you go around all summer in your tight, high-waisted shorts with your shirts tied into a knot to show your stomach was difficult to say the least. Even worse than that, seeing you in a bikini the handful of times you all went swimming.

You were beyond attractive and it was driving him mad seeing you in such minimal clothing.

The absolute worst outfit of yours to drive him insane, however, was your pajamas. Having known you were staying the entire summer at the burrow, you had many variations of pajamas, but they were all much too attractive to Fred.

He loved when you wore your short pajama shorts, usually landing just past your ass, along with a thin, baggy tee. He would never admit it to anyone, as he was much too embarrassed by it, but he couldn’t help but look at your chest when you wore a shirt like that for bed.

He knew you weren’t doing it for him by any means, but you never wore a bra to bed and you’d often cross your arms over your stomach when you’d encounter him. The action pushing your breasts up and into the thin fabric where he couldn’t help but imagine what your chest looked liked underneath. He nearly came in his pants the first few times he caught a glimpse of your hardened nipples through the shirt when it had been a bit of a cooler night.

Currently, he has locked himself in the bathroom away from his family as he has a major erection that won’t go away. He knows it’s not you’re fault, but you are certainly the reason behind this.

Having been one of the hotter days this summer, you had all decided you would spend the day swimming, which was fine, except for the fact that you wore a new bikini you must have gotten one of the days you had gone shopping with his sister and hermione.

It was absolutely stunning on you, but it created quite an issue for him. It was so tiny; covering your front, but essentially becoming a thong in the back. Not to mention it was extremely high cut, which elongated your already beautiful legs and accentuated the curves you had grown into magnificently. And then the top was literally just a strip of fabric, a bandeau he had heard you call it, but it just barely covered your breasts and it drove him wild.

The colour of it was phenomenal too, a dusty blue shade that complimented your skin tone perfectly. On top of all of that, you had your hair tied back into messy pigtails which somehow worked perfectly together even though it contradicted your outfit. Seeing you with pigtails was adorable and made you look so sweet and innocent, yet seeing you in that swimsuit brought on ideas that weren’t innocent in the slightest.

Then you had a spattering of freckles on your cheeks and shoulders that had reappeared after being in the sun this summer, which Fred just found intoxicatingly beautiful.

He had tried so hard to keep his thoughts clean, but then you had to go and ask him to help you apply sunblock to your back. He was doing so good, but then smearing the thick white cream across your back had him imagining all sorts of different scenarios.

It had only continued into nightfall as well. You all decided you wanted to do s’mores and hang out around a bonfire tonight after spending the late afternoon and early evening playing quidditch and then having a bbq dinner.

You had changed out of your swimsuit into a pair of jean shorts and an oversized hoodie, which in reality wasn’t the problem. Truthfully, it was the way Fred’s mind decided to work when looking at you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you wearing a bra under the hoodie, knowing from you and his sister mentioning it that you girls didn’t like wearing a bra more than you had to.

And then his mind would start to wonder what your skin felt like having had sunblock put on you and swimming. He wondered if your skin would feel soft and maybe a bit warmer than it should as it looked to him that you had gotten a very slight sunburn.

And in general he just couldn’t help but get turned on by how attractive you were sitting there in an oversized hoodie - that could be his if he’d own up to his feelings. He couldn’t help but notice how adorable you were with your cheeks spattered with freckles and tinted pink from the sun, not to mention how happy you looked as you smiled and laughed along with your friends and his siblings.

He had finally excused himself after you locked eyes with him after one of his brothers told a funny story, biting your lip to keep from smiling so much. That was the last bit for him. It drove him crazy imagining what you’d look like biting your lip as you tried to contain your moans as he pounded into you. He had been holding on all summer and he just couldn’t push his thoughts away tonight.

So here he sat locked in the bathroom, trying to get his erection to go away but realizing he needed to relieve himself if he had any hope of getting rid of it.

He was honestly embarrassed, not wanting to jack off in the bathroom over his best friend while you were literally downstairs in his backyard.

He groaned as his cock twitched at the thought of you down there. He wanted you so bad that it was physically hurting him at the moment.

He sighs, slowly palming himself over his trousers just to relieve some of the discomfort. He really really didn’t want to fully masturbate right here right now. It was just too awkward.

He groaned as he touched himself, picturing your beautiful face smiling at him, his hips jerking forward when he recounted how gorgeous you were biting your lip.

Before he realized it he had his hand in his trousers, rubbing himself as he recounted all the times he had found you breathtaking this summer.

He groaned as he pictures you in your pajamas, your nipples visible through the thin material of your shirt. He groaned as he imagined you in your high waisted shorts that seemed to just barely cover your ass and accented your thighs that he would love to grab ahold of. He groaned, his eyes shutting tight as he pictured you in your bikinis, you ass essentially on show and your breasts not far behind.

“Oh fuck, y/n” he moaned, trying so desperately to be quiet.

~.~

You frowned when you realized Fred hadn’t come back yet. He never mentioned where he was going, but you were sure he wouldn’t have gone to bed already. Not at least without telling you guys so.

You figure you’ll go looking for him, especially since you wanted to grab another glass of water anyway.

You frown when you don’t see him in the living room or kitchen. Lost in your thoughts you decide to make your way upstairs just to see if he had maybe laid down for a bit.

Not finding him in his room you sigh. Where could the boy possibly be? It’s not like he could just vanish.

You stop when you hear, what you think is, groaning. Was Fred groaning? What for and where?

Slowly you follow the sounds to the bathroom and you let out a breath. At least you know where he is. You go to walk away just as he lets out a particularly loud groan, and it didn’t sound pleasant.

You knock gently on the door, frowning. You hoped he was okay.

Not hearing an answer you knock again, this time a little louder as you call out to him.

“Hey, Freddie. Are you alright?”

~.~

Fred stops, cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. How bloody unlucky is he to have the girl he’s been masturbating to knock on the door as he’s still jerking himself off?

“Freddie?” He hears you ask again.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, y/n. Everything’s good.” He sweats, trying so hard to not let his voice betray him.

He’s still so hard and turned on, all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink here and fuck you senseless. He wants you a moaning mess underneath him, begging for him to let you cum.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound good.”

“Y-yeah. I’m sure.”

He’s trying so hard to not let a groan out at hearing your voice and imagining what he could be doing to you right now. Unfortunately he lets one slip out which is more than enough for you to keep pressing.

“Fred weasley, if you don’t convince me that your good in the next few minutes I am coming in there to check on you. You sound sick.”

“I-I’m fine, y/n. Promise. Just p-please don’t come in here.” He nearly cries, thoroughly embarrassed by the situation, but wanting to continue so badly. He’s been so worked up this summer and it’s finally caught up with him.

You frown hearing how troubled he sounds. You can’t just leave him alone - what if he’s sick? Maybe he ate something bad or got too much sun today? You needed to see for yourself that he was okay.

You tell yourself that’s why you mumble alohomora and gently push open the door, making you way inside.

“Y/n! What are you doing?! P-please go.” Fred urges, trying to cover himself before you turn around to face him.

“Not until I know your alright. What’s wro-oh...” you trail off, taking in the sight in front of you.

If your not mistaken, you just walked in on your best friend masturbating. He was beyond flushed, mostly due to embarrassment at being caught, though. Not to mention how messy he looked; his hair messed up from him throwing his head back, his shirt all scrunched up on his chest, and his pants pulled down around his thighs.

You blush as you take in the sight, yet your not able to look away, probably because you’re so shocked and embarrassed yourself.

“I am so so sorry, Freddie. Uh, let me just leave you alone.” You tumble out, quickly turning back towards the door.

“Y/n, wait.” He calls, furiously flushing at the thought that passes through his head. “C-could you please help me?” He stutters out.

“H-help you? How?” You gulp, turning to face him with your face flushed.

“I, uh, I can’t get myself t-to finish. I need more.”

You gape at him, he’s asking you to get him off. Your best friend of six years, who you may have a tiny bit of a crush on, is asking you to get him off.

While the thought excites you, it also makes you beyond nervous. Sure you and the twins were close and flirted around with each other jokingly, but you’ve never once actually made any advancements with each other.

“I know it’s awkward, but I could really use the help.” He mumbles.

“O-okay. Uh, well let me see.”

You bite your bottom lip, completely embarrassed as he stretches himself out again, slowly moving his hand from himself.

You can barely hold back a groan as you take in the look of his cock all red and erect, precum oozing from the tip. It looks absolutely delicious and you forget about the fact that it’s your best friends.

Cautiously you take him in your hand, kneeling in between his legs as he sits on the toilet.

“Oh godrick,” he groans as your hand wraps around his member, the difference in touch enough to make him even harder.

“You’re so pretty, Fred.” You mumble, sliding your hand down his cock, watching as more precum beads at his tip. Gently you swipe your thumb across his slit, drawing a deep groan from inside him.

“Do more. Please, y/n. Please.” He begs, his head falling backwards as his eyes clench shut.

You smirk, loving the reaction your getting from him. Never in a million years did you think you be kneeling here in the burrow’s bathroom jerking your best friend off, but here you were and you were loving every second of it.

Becoming more confident at the sounds he’s letting out, you bring your mouth to him, licking your tongue over his tip.

“Oh fuck. Y/n, sweetheart. Please, please.” Fred groans, his hips jutting up towards your face.

“Please what, Freddie. Tell me what you want your best friend to do to you.”

He groans, jutting his hips yet again at your words. He knows how filthy this situation is. Even though he loves you, you two aren’t anything more than friends and yet here you are ready to suck him off. He knows how wrong it is, yet at the same time it feels far too good to stop.

“Come on, Freddie, love. Tell me what you want.” You coo, slowly licking up and down his cock, paying attention to the vein on the underside of him as well as the edge of his head.

“I-I want your mouth, princess. I want your lips around me.” He groans, trying to watch you as you smile and bring your head closer to him.

“Good boy, Freddie. Very good.” You praise as take him in your mouth, feeling the weight against your tongue and swallowing around him to see how difficult it was.

“Fuck, princess.” He groans, throwing his head back as you do so.

You smirk and swallow around him again before sinking your head down on him more to the point of him hitting your throat.

Fred moans, grabbing at your hair that you had taken out of the braids from earlier.

“Fuck me, y/n. Please. I want you so bad.” Fred nearly cries, tugging at your hair.

You pull off of him, a string of saliva staying connected for a few seconds as he juts his hips into the air.

“You want me around you, baby. Is that what you said?” You ask, kissing at his neck.

“You want to be inside me while I ride you?”

“Yes. Yes, please, princess. Please.”

You chuckle at his neediness, leaving a few more kisses you neck as you stand up.

Slowly you unbutton your bottoms, sliding them down your legs as Fred watches lazily, his cock twitching at seeing you undressing.

“Like what you see, baby?”

“I love it.” Fred growls, eyeing you as you slip your panties down.

You don’t bother with your hoodie as it won’t be in the way. That and you don’t have a shirt or bra on underneath it and your not quite comfortable being completely naked in front of your best friend.

“You ready, baby? You ready for me to sit on your big cock?”

Fred groans, loving your dirty talk. He never would have imagined you taking charge during sex, but then again he never imagined that he would be begging you to get him off. Even though this isn’t quite what he had been imagining, it was still better than nothing. In fact, he almost thought this was better.

“Freddie, baby. You have to tell me what you’re thinking.” You urge, straddling him, but not yet sliding down on him.

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. I want you to sit in my big cock, princess. I want my best friend to ride me.” He groans, grabbing a hold of your waist as you grind against him, spreading your wetness on his cock. It makes him proud to feel how wet you are, he’s only hoping all of it was because of him.

“Good job, Freddie.” You smile, kissing his collarbones as you slide yourself onto his cock, moaning out at how amazing it feels.

He was just big enough to stretch you out and it felt amazing. You honestly wished you had done this sooner.

“Oh fuck, baby. You feel so good. Feel so good inside me.” You moan, bouncing on his cock as he guides your hips.

“Ohh, Freddie. Right there.” You groan as he rubs right against the spot you need him.

“You like that, princess? You like riding your best friends cock? You love the way I’m filling you up?”

“Yes, Freddie. Love it. Love you and your cock. Feels so, so good.” You groan, arching your back as he hits a spot inside you.

“Oh godrick, y/n.” Fred groans, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you closer to him, his cock twitching happily inside you as your walls clench around him.

“Are you going to cum, Freddie? Going to fill up your best friends pussy with your cum?”

“I know how much you want to.” You whisper in his ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“Oh, fuck. Yes, princess. I want to fill you with my cum. I want to fill you so bad. Please let me, princess. Please.”

“I’m all yours, Freddie.” You smile dreamily, groaning as he juts up into you, his cock twitching.

“Oh, fuuuuck.” He groans, shooting his load inside you as you let out a high pitched whine as you hit your high along with him.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, princess.”

“That was amazing, Freddie. Do you feel better now?” You ask, breathily heavily into his shoulder as you slump against him.

“So much better, princess. Thank you.”

You smile, nodding lazily as you catch your breath. Now that you’re finished, your not quite sure what to do. Was this just a one time thing? What does this mean for you two? Does this change anything?

“Stop thinking.” Fred chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as your still sitting on him.

“Can’t help it, Freddie.”

“You’re such a worry wart. We literally just had sex, hell my dick is still inside you, and you’re mind is already five steps ahead.”

“Does this change anything for us?”

“I would hope so. You’re the reason I was so worked up in the first place, y/n.” He chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face as you look at him.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You are so bloody sexy without even trying and it drives me mad. I love having you here this summer, but Merlin has it been torture.”

“Yeah? How so, weasley?” You ask, leaning back and moaning as you forgot he was still inside you.

“If I tell you, we’re going to have to go for a round two; just thinking about you gets me hard.”

“And as much as I’d love to fuck you senseless, my siblings and our friends are probably wondering where we went off to.” Fred says, grinding your hips down into him.

You moan softly, your eyes shutting at the pleasure he’s bringing you.

“So, it’s your choice, sweetheart. We can either go downstairs and pretend that nothing just happened up here, or we can makeup some excuse to explain our absence and we can go continue this in percy’s old room. What do you want to do?”

You whine, not liking how much control he has over you right now. He’s got ahold of your hips, slowly grinding you down into him with his cock still inside you, and he’s letting you make the decision which is the last thing you want to do right now.

“What is it going to be, princess?” He coaxed, kissing at your neck as you had done to him earlier.

“Ohhhh fuck, Freddie. I hate you.” You groan, hating that he’s making you choose.

“I want you.” You moan, burying your face into his chest as it screws up in pleasure.

“Yeah? You want me to go fuck you in percy’s room? You want me to wreck your pussy and fill it with my cum again?”

“Yes, Freddie. Please.”

He smirks, kissing your forehead as he lifts you off of his dick.

“Alright, princess. You get your shorts on and go up to percy’s room. I’m going to go tell everyone that you got a migraine and that I’m going to keep an eye on you for awhile, yeah? I’ll be right up there.”

“I love you, Freddie.” You mumble.

“I love you too, princess. Now go. I’ll be up in a minute. No touching yourself, okay?”

You whine, but nod when he gives you a look. You’ve been wanting him for years and now he’s going to leave you like this after you just rode him? Granted he’ll be back, but you don’t want to wait. If he doesn’t hurry back, you might just have to do what he told you not to.

————————

Part 2 !!

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfic #hp imagine #hp smut #hp fanfic #smut

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

I just want you (Chip Taylor / Reader)

Requested: Yes

Word counting: 3.5K

Summary: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of 68 Kill.

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! sorry, I've been a little absent here, but writing my series has taken most of my time! Also, I feel a little blocked, and my personal life has been a mess. But, here it is: my first Chip Taylor fic. Have you guys seen 68 Kill? I love that movie, and I love Chip so much. He deserves the world. I hope you guys like this little story!

Masterlist

---

It wasn’t like I didn’t know my husband was handsome, ‘cos you had to be blind not to see his face was made by the gods, and all of his features were simply perfect. I just didn’t know every woman would flirt with him everywhere we were all the time.

And they weren’t even subtle about it. No. They made it very obvious when they looked at Chip each time they stopped by his work. They wanted him.

After all those years together, a part of me had made peace with that. I couldn’t stop them. He was hot, he didn’t want their attention, but he wasn’t rude or anything like it. Chip Taylor was a very polite man who was also very blind to the attention his looks gave him.

Chip owned a small pet sitting business that had started to really take off in the last few months. He had some savings that he used to buy a house when we first started dating. He lived there until we got married, and then we bought a bigger place outside the town. That’s when he decided to turn his old home into his own pet sitting business. And it was a hit. Chip is fantastic with animals. He is great with everybody, but pets just… melt with him. I think they can see the kindness of his soul.

Chip Taylor deserves the best things in life ‘cos he is the best man I’ve ever met. I’ve loved him since the day it took him almost half an hour to walk over and talk to me in the bar we met.

- “Every time a pretty face pops up, my brain turns into a potato- he explained, flustered ‘cos he kept stuttering as he asked for my number.

He was too sweet. Too cute. And he loved me. He had a ring that said so. But again, that didn’t stop most women who met him from flirting with him.

- “Here he is. Little Rascal had a great day today”- Chip walked to the front yard with a french bulldog, who kept barking, trying to get an extra treat from him. I smiled from a safe distance, reading a book sitting on a porch while Chip met with the dog owner. And she was as excited as Rascal was.

- “Hi baby! Did you have a good day today?”- the lady held the leash and caressed her dog’s head a few times before returning her attention fully to my husband.

- “Thank you for taking care of him.”

- “You are very welcome, Kim. It’s my job.”

- “No, it’s more than that. Rascal hates strangers, and he has been an angel with you since day one. I tell you, Chip, you are someone special.”

I know my husband blushed, ‘cos he is terrible with compliments. So he just shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. His shirt raised, showing his very toned midsection. And I swear, I had to force myself to stay put on that chair, ‘cos the way that woman looked at my husband was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to run over and push her away from him. I wished I could tell her to get her dog and get the fuck out of our property.

But no. I didn’t. Instead, I tried to keep on reading, which was honestly impossible. But at least I didn’t move from my chair. I just stared at that scene, trying to control the urges of smashing that woman’s head against her car.

- “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”- the woman asked him, smiling flirtatiously

- “Not really.”- not the smartest answer, I’ll give you that.

- “Great! that means you can’t say no! I am having a small get-together at my place this Friday. You should totally come.”

- “Thank you, Kim, but...”

- “I’ll text you my address. I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Chip was awkward, he felt pushed to say he’d go, but I knew he didn’t want to. If he did, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Besides, he wouldn’t usually make plans without asking me first. A part of me wanted to run and help him out of that awkward situation, but I knew he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was a grown-up, but after knowing everything he had gone through before we met, a big part of me wanted to take care of him constantly. I didn’t want anything wrong ever to happen to Chip. He didn’t deserve anything bad.

- “Thanks, Kim, really, but… I think I should ask my wife first”- he whispered and smiled kindly at the woman, who didn’t hide the disappointment from her face. I have the feeling she never actually saw the ring on my husband’s finger.

- “Wife? I had no idea you were married, Chip”- he chuckled and nodded as the woman tried to act normal again. But she couldn’t.

- “Yes, I’ve been married for the last ten months.”

- “Just ten months? Well, she is a lucky woman…”

- “Thank you”- Chip petted Rascal’s head and added- “But I am sure I am the lucky one to have her. I still can’t believe she actually married me.”

- “Come on, Chip! Any woman would be happy with a man like you.”

And that was when that woman crossed the line and rubbed my husband’s arm for longer than necessary. He froze and looked at her, not knowing how to get out of that situation. Chip is a sweet soul who still has some significant issues when it comes to setting boundaries.

I jumped from my chair and walked over quickly, with a big smile on my face. The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who I was.

- “Hello, sorry to interrupt you, boo, but it’s getting late for our date.”

We didn’t have a date that night. But well, now we did.

Chip frowned, confused, and waited for me to explain a little more what I was saying. But, instead, I just smiled and held his hand, making sure that the woman’s hand was as far from him as possible.

- “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), Chip’s wife.”- I said and waved.

- “Kimberly, nice to meet you.”

- “So you are Rascal’s mom. He is a sweetheart”- I kneeled and petted Rascal’s head behind his ears, right where I knew he liked it. Kim just nodded and smiled.

- “Ok, we should go, it’s getting late. Bye Chip”- she waved quickly, walking to her car. My husband said goodbye and wrapped an arm around my waist as I stood by his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

- “We are not going to her “little get-together,” by the way”- I whispered, and he chuckled.

- “Good, ’cause I didn’t want to go either. I actually had plans for the weekend, but I didn’t want to discuss them with her.”- I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and felt his big hands caressing the lower part of my back.

- “Which plans?”

- “I’m planning to stay in bed with my wife the whole weekend, watch movies, kiss her a lot, and maybe asking for pizza.”

- “You had me at ˝stay in bed,” Chip Taylor”- I giggled and kissed his cheek- “She was flirting with you, by the way.”

- “I don’t care if she tried to flirt. I only have eyes for you, moonbeam”- I chuckled at the cheesy nickname and felt his lips on mine. They felt warm and soft and filled with love.

But it wasn’t always so easy to shake off the thoughts of a woman flirting with Chip. Unfortunately, sometimes it was harder to remain calm. Some women were more aggressive with their flirting. Some were actually way hotter than me, and sometimes that makes you doubt yourself.

I didn’t know Liza or Violet, so I never knew if they were prettier, more intelligent, or sexier than me. I couldn’t compare or compete with them either, ‘cos they were dead. But some random women made my life a little more challenging from time to time.

- “Chip? Chip Taylor?”- a soft woman’s voice interrupted our conversation and forced my husband to turn around, feeling now also her hand on his shoulder. We were at our favorite bar, having a drink, celebrating the end of the week and another successful month of Chip’s small business. We were chatting about our days, sitting at our usual table, when interrupted.

- “Anna Davis? Hi! How are you?! Long time no see!”- my husband stood up and hugged the stranger like long-lost friends reunited. I had never heard of any “Anna” before. I was trying to remember if I did.

- “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”- Anna said and laughed- “I can’t believe it’s really you!”- and so, they hugged again.

- “Hi”- I waved from the table and smiled at the two of them as they moved apart.

- “I’m so sorry, babe. (Y/N), this is Anna, my neighbor when I was in middle school. Anna, this is (Y/N), my wife.”

- “Hi, nice to meet you”- she shook my hand and smiled at me for a second, and then turned to my husband again and continued catching up.

Chip looked happy and excited to see her. He didn’t have many friends, he still didn’t know how to trust most people, probably why he decided to work with animals instead. He had a good relationship with Jim, the boy who helped him clean, and with a few classmates from the community college. But that was it.

- “I can’t believe you are here!”- Chip was beaming- “Are you with someone?”

- “My friends were leaving. I’m visiting one of my best friends, who moved here a few years ago. But she has to work tomorrow morning, so she wanted to go home.”

- “Do you wanna sit with us for a while?”- Chip asked her and turned to me smiling. Of course, I couldn’t say no. Well, he didn’t actually ask; he just looked at me, and I moved my chair to make room for one more on the table.

- “I would love to! Thank you!.”

I loved the idea of meeting Anna, at first. I didn’t know many people from my husband’s past, basically just his parents. The fact she was his friend growing up sounded amazing, and it meant I could finally talk with someone who knew him when he was a kid and could tell me more stories about my husband.

But Anna had other plans. My husband blinded Anna. She basically ignored me, and he was so excited to see her and talk to her, he didn’t even notice I was being left out of the whole conversation.

At first, it was ok. Chip wanted to catch up with Anna, know what she was doing with her life, and all that. So he asked for her parents and family. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up.

- “Remember each Friday we had a secret sleepover?”- she asked and laughed. My husband nodded and sipped his drink.

- “Yeah! I would sneak into your house and watch a movie.”

- “You know, my parents knew you were coming to hang out after curfew. They just didn’t think it was wrong”- she added and laughed- “I’m just glad they didn’t know about the day we tried smoking for the first time!”

Chip burst into laughter, and so did Anna. I just stared at them and sighed. Neither of them explained the story. They were just too caught up in each other to even notice I was there.

Yes, I was feeling jealous of Chip’s long-lost childhood friend. I knew it made no sense, but somehow, he completely forgot I existed when she was there. Yes, it was probably ‘cos he was surprised to bump into her at a bar on a random night after so many years.

But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was gorgeous. She had long legs, beautiful golden hair, green eyes. The girl could go to a freaking beauty pageant and win it. Besides, Anna wasn’t acting friendly, if you ask me. She kept rubbing my husband’s arm, repeating how excited she was to see him, and saying over and over again how good he looked… it was a little too much.

- “I tell you, Chip, you haven’t changed a bit!”- Anna smiled and looked into his chocolate eyes, and I swear she nearly sighed. I couldn’t blame her. He is dreamy. But he is my husband, and it felt wrong.

- “Neither have you,”- he added and turned to me for a second. I looked kindly into his eyes, knowing he was happy, and that was enough to make me feel happy too.

- “Can I get you another drink, moonbeam?”- he asked me and stood up.

- “Yes, penguin, please”- Chip nodded and blushed as I called him by his favorite nickname and then turned to Anna.

- “Another?”

- “Sure!”

And suddenly, we were on our own.

- “So, how long have you been married?”- Anna asked me and looked at me innocently.

- “A little over ten months.”

- “Just married! Congratulations. You must still be living the honeymoon!”

- “Yes, we are.”- I giggled and turned to look at Chip, waiting for our drink at the bar. It wasn’t hard being stuck at the honeymoon phase with him. Every day, he made every day feel like the first day we were together, even after three years of dating and ten months married.

- “We used to date when we were kids,”- Anna simply said and chuckled - “It was very childish, but I was his first kiss.”

- “Really?”- I smiled at her, making my best not to look jealous at all. “That’s so cute!”

- “He is adorable. He was the sweetest boy growing up.”- Anna added and kept her eyes on Chip. But for a few seconds, I could see the longing in them, and my struggle not to show how jealous I was got a little harder.

- “So when was the last time you saw Chip?”- I asked and kept my eyes on her, reading her expressions. It took her a few extra seconds to stop staring at him to turn and look at me.

- “When I moved out of town when I was fifteen.”- she sighed and chuckled- “Seems it was a lifetime ago.”

- “Ok, here are your drinks,”- Chip appeared and smiled- “Plus, I ordered some more nachos, ‘cos I’m getting hungry.”- I chuckled and held his hand upon the table, playing with his fingers between mine. Chip looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when Anna interrupted him.

- “Remember that summer you broke your arm ‘cos you fell from the tree in Shawn’s backyard?”

And my husband laughed, forgetting what he was going to tell me.

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix my makeup. I looked tired. I was tired. It was Friday night, and I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I was weary, and all I could think of was getting into my bed with my husband and getting good twelve-hour sleep.

But he and Anna were still talking and having a blast together, remembering the good old times. Now, if you ask me, I had the feeling Anna wanted to do more than just talking to my husband, but he was oblivious to any of her intentions. That was until I walked out of the bathroom and saw Anna’s arm wrapped around Chip as they were dancing.

She was dancing with my husband, and he was laughing. Ok, that hurt. It hurt a lot.

I sat at our table and drank what was left of my drink. I stared at them for a moment and evaluated my options. I could storm out of that place, maybe make a scene and yell. But no, I trusted my husband. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me or even cheat on me with her. No. He was naive and a little awkward. But by the way Anna’s hands moved on his body, clearly, she wasn’t naive at all.

- “Oh! I’m sorry!”- Anna said laughing when they reached back our table- “I just asked Chip to dance with me ‘cos I love that song.”

- “That’s ok”- I smiled at her and held my husband’s hand tight upon the table.

- “But Chip is such a great dancer! He really knows how to move!”- Anna was asking for it. She wanted to be smacked. But I behaved.

- “He really does,”- I answered and smiled

- “I hope you are not jealous!”- I turned to her and frowned, pretending to be confused

- “Of course not! Why would I?”

- “I don’t know! It’s just that… he was mine way before he was yours and…”

- “He isn’t mine”- I cut her off, and for once, my voice stopped being nice and friendly- “And he is definitely not yours. He is not a dog, Anna, he is a person, and the only owner of his soul is himself.”

Anna stared at me in silence, and Chip wide opened his eyes, surprised by my tone of voice.

- “What I’m trying to say is that… I met him when…”

- “I know what you are trying to imply Anna, you’ve been trying to do it ever since you sat at our table. You feel like you need to prove something, but you don’t. Really.”

Chip held my hand tight and kissed it sweetly. He didn’t say anything to me. He just looked at me with apologetic eyes as I cut him a short smile.

- “Ok, I think I better go now”- Anna stood up and just waved- “It was great seeing you again, Chip.”

My husband smiled and waved as Anna walked away. Then, when he was sure she had left the place, he turned to me. I sipped what was left of my drink and sighed.

- “Sorry if I was rude”- my words were a whisper only Chip could hear.

- “No, moonbeam. You weren’t rude at all. I’m sorry.”

- “Chip Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong”- I leaned and kissed his lips softly, cupping his face with both hands.

- “I feel like I did.”

- “No, boo, really. She was… clearly trying to get under your belt.”

- “I shouldn’t have danced with her, but she pushed me...”- Chip excused himself and kissed my hand again, as I still held his face and caressed her cheeks with my thumbs.

- “Yeah, you should work on that “No” thing a little harder,”- I whispered and chuckled.

- “Sorry if she made you feel jealous. I had a huge crush on her when we were kids.”

- “She said she was your first kiss”- Chip opened my mouth, but no word came from it for a few seconds.

- “Funny, I told her that just ‘cos she said I was her first kiss, but actually my first kiss was with her cousin Alice.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as Chip looked at me with guilty eyes as if that was the biggest secret he had about his past.

- “Well, I bet if I run, I can still catch her!! I need to tell her the news!!”- I said and stood up, just to feel Chip’s arms around me, protectively.

- “Let her think that. We all know who all my kisses belong to now.”

Chip held me tight and close to him as his lips rubbed mine slowly. I felt my head spin as his tongue slowly touched mine, deepening the kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of Chip’s sweet and passionate kiss. He made sure to make me feel how much he loved him every time he kissed me. In a weird way, Chip’s kisses always felt like our first and last. I think he was always trying to show me his feelings, ‘cos his previous trauma taught him he didn’t know when a kiss could be the last.

- “I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,”- he whispered, and the title made my knees feel weak- “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

- “I love you more, Mr. Taylor,”- I replied and kissed his lips sweetly one more time- “And just between you and me, I am completely yours.”- I confessed and giggled nervously.

- “I am yours too, moonbeam. You own my heart, and I only want you.”- he whispered and kissed me one more time.

- “You just want me?”- I repeated, and he nodded, looking into my eyes filled with love- “Of all those women who wanna do you, you just want me?”

- “Which women?”- he asked me, clearly confused

- “A lot of women out there keep giving you the fuck eyes.”

- “What?! No way”

- “Do you think Kim invited you to her house for a small get-together? She wanted to get under your belt, penguin.”

- “But I am your penguin, that means I am not looking for any other woman. I just want you.”

- “Just me,”- I repeated again, and he nodded.

- “Just you, Mrs. Taylor”- I sighed, pleased, and closed my eyes for a second “Wanna go home?”

- “You still have to dance with me,”- I pouted, and he held my hand.

- “Whatever my wife wants.”

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#Chip Taylor #Matthew Gray Gubler #68 kill #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor x fem!reader #Matthew Gray Gubler Fluff #fluff #matthew Gray Gubler fanfiction #fanfiction #68 kill fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 1

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: The Guardians have pissed off some really dangerous people and need to lie low. Apparently your home is the perfect place to keep them, according to Fury.

Part 2 Here

Author’s Note: This will be multiple chapters, I already have so many scenes for this in my head. I hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 6,610

You had been called into a sudden emergency meeting one afternoon, and walked in expecting to be sent on perhaps an urgent but still run-of-the-mill mission, or briefed on a sudden change to an existing case. You didn't expect to essentially become the babysitter for eight aliens. Well, one of them was human, but still.

You waited in the briefing room with five other agents and Maria Hill. One of your fellow agents, you thought her name was Stacy, tried asking what the meeting was about, and Maria would only reply to wait for Fury, and that he should be there soon.

Admittedly that made you a little nervous. It wasn't often that you didn't get any information before a meeting, but you tried not to think too much into it.

Fury arrived a few minutes later followed by six people you had never seen before.

Two of the men looked normal enough- that is to say, human- but they were the only two. One with red hair and another with strange tattoos on his neck. Then there was a large shirtless greenish/greyish man with what looked at first glance to be many swirly red tattoos covering his body. He had what you thought was a raccoon holding a wooden doll sitting on his shoulder, until the raccoon jumped down onto the table and you saw that not only did the raccoon walk upright, but the "wooden doll" was actually alive, and walked around as well when set upon the table. The other man was a rough looking type, and he was as blue as the sky with what appeared to be a red metal mow-hawk. There were two women with them as well, a taller green one who looked like she could kill you without blinking, and a smaller paler one with antennae who actually looked kinda scared to be there, as she was all but hiding behind the larger shirtless man.

Now, with your line of work you were of course aware of the reality of aliens, but these were actually the first you'd seen up close other than some of the Skrull people Fury worked with.

This group, however, seemed a little... dysfunctional. The red haired man said something snarky to the raccoon, and to your surprise the raccoon spoke back, saying something equally snarky in return before snapping at the red haired man's hand. The man then mimed smacking the raccoon across the room only to then be smacked in the back of the head by the green woman, earning snickers from both neck-tattoo guy and the blue man.

Fury loudly plopped a folder on the table and looked at the group sternly, prompting them to silence. He then turned to you and your fellow agents. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here." Not waiting for an answer he continued, "In simplest terms, we need to provide sanctuary for this lot because they went and pissed off some very dangerous people, and the Nova Corps urgently insists that they need protection."

An agent to your right, you didn't know his name, spoke up. "Then why aren't they hiding them? Why pawn them on us?"

"This is their way of hiding them. Earth is considered primitive by the rest of the galaxy's standards. We have virtually no contact outside this planet, and Nova figured this would be one of the last places anyone might look. Buy them some time to diffuse the situation with the people after these guys before they blow them to pieces."

For seemingly no reason, the red haired man then flicked the raccoon, only to fall on his ass when the raccoon lunged at him, receiving many annoyed looks from the rest of the group.

The same agent spoke again, confusion on his face. "Pardon me, but why is this Nova Corps putting all this effort into hiding... them?" The inflection was clear. What was so special about these dumbasses?

Fury, after witnessing the buffoonery, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, in addition to them being idiots." He punctuated the sentence with a sharp look toward the group, making the man and raccoon attempt to straighten up. "They've also managed to save the galaxy on more than one occasion. Nova is understandably less than willing to see them come to deadly harm. This is where you come in. We can't keep them here, so we need agents who can house them until everything blows over. Now, we're considering dividing them them among the five of you-"

"Wait! Whoa whoa whoa! You never said we'd be split up! We're a team! You can't split us up!" cried the red haired man. The rest of the group seemed agitated as well, and started to argue with Fury.

You heard a couple agents to your left whispering that they were in no way going to house any of them, and you couldn't help but agree as you watched the scene in front of you.

The blue man had the red haired man by the arm, irritably telling the younger to "Calm down, boy!" as the red haired man tried to pull away, yelling and pointing at Fury about how "This wasn't the deal!" The green woman was also yelling at the red haired man, something about having no choice if they wanted everyone to be safe, as the neck-tattoo guy just stood there, almost as if he didn't know whether to be angry or sad. The woman with the antennae looked even more frightened, now burying her face into the chest of the large tattooed man while he simultaneously patted her head comfortingly and somehow also managed a deadly look at your director. The raccoon had now hopped back on the table to comfort the little wooden creature, which was now crying, soothing it and saying, "It's ok, buddy, I'm not gonna let them separate us, I promise. Look at me, it's gonna be fine."

That's all it took, and you cursed yourself.

You rubbed a hand down your face. Damn it. "I'll do it." you said, voice raised just loud enough to be heard over the commotion.

Loud enough to capture Fury's attention. He turned away from the now quieting group and shared a brief look with Agent Hill. "What was that?"

You sighed, a voice in your mind yelling at you to reconsider. "I've got a place. Out of the way." Wait, what the hell are you doing? "I can take them." No. Turn back! It's not too late! "I mean, people will have to double up in the bedrooms, but I have the space to take them all." Dammit! What's wrong with you!?

Fury nodded. "Where do you live?"

"In the interest of security, sir, I think that's a conversation best had in private."

Fury smiled. "Good answer."

***

After Fury dismissed the other agents and discussed the whereabouts of your home and its security, he surprised you by declaring that you'd all be leaving within the hour.

You were taken a bit aback, having assumed you'd have some time to prepare, but agreed, assuming that time must be of the essence. Preparations could be made as you went, you supposed.

The ride to your home was a bit awkward, to be honest. Fury split the group between your car and a larger black SUV that he would be driving. In your vehicle you transported the red haired man and the green woman, who's names you learned were Peter and Gamora, along with agent Maria Hill in the front passenger seat. You assumed she had been assigned to ride with you rather than Fury for security purposes, but you didn't ask. Fury transported the rest, which you were sure would have been an interesting ride to say the least.

Your journey, however, was quite quiet. Peter kept trying to make conversation, but it never went much further than a couple-word answers from you or Maria. Reason being that you honestly just didn't know what to say, and you weren't exactly the most open book, and you'd never known Maria to be much of a conversationalist while on the job, though you two usually got on pretty well together.

Your home was an old double storey stone farmhouse set in the countryside, miles away from the nearest house, and even further away from the nearest town. The back of the property was a decent sized lot that emptied into a forest that also shielded around the sides, and at the front there were hedges and tall trees blocking the property from the sight of nearest road. It was easy to miss if you didn't know where to find the drive path that turned off the main road and winded up to the house. For all intents and purposes, to any average person taking a country drive, it was as if it wasn't even there, lost among the vast amount of trees.

Therefore, when you did finally arrive at your home a good bit later, you were more than surprised to find three black vans already parked in your drive. You were first alarmed, worried that somehow your location had already been compromised. You stayed behind the wheel for a moment, unsure of what to do, until you looked in the rearview mirror to see Fury and his lot exiting his vehicle. You looked to Maria in confusion.

"Yeah, there may be a bit more you need to be briefed on." she said in reply to a question that hadn't left your lips, smiling apologetically.

You got out of your car, followed by the rest of your passengers, and walked over to Fury who was standing in front of his passengers as they stared up at their new (hopefully) temporary lodging.

"What's going on here?" you asked when you reached him, gesturing to the men coming out of your house.

"Slow workmanship. They should have been done and gone 30 minutes ago." Fury said flatly, gazing at a man who nodded apologetically to the director and spoke into his walkie for his men to wrap up.

"Fury-" you say, your tone unamused.

"Agent Hill was supposed to brief you on the way over." he said, looking past you to Maria with a raised eyebrow.

"I considered that it might be better to wait until we reached the destination, sir, rather than inside of a moving vehicle, considering."

Fury half nodded as if in agreement, then turned to look back at your home. "We already scoped your place out a week ago. You're right, it was nearly the perfect place."

"Excuse me?" you say, eyes widening in confusion and surprise. What the hell did he mean he had already scoped it out a week prior? You had been under the impression these people had just been spontaneously dropped in Fury's lap.

"Your home," he said as if that would clarify things. "We had already looked into it, and other than needing a few adjustments, it was the perfect safe house to hide them."

"You- How-" you sputtered. You took a moment to gather your thoughts. "You mean to tell me that this was all already decided before you ever called that meeting?"

"Of course. It would have been irresponsible to drop them off at the first place we found."

"Then why call the meeting? Why the damn charade if this wasn't really my choice?" You were fighting not to raise your voice too much, but it still came out irritated. You threw an accusatory glance at the group, who were clearly listening in on the conversation, not like you had been quiet enough for them not to hear if they hadn't been. "Were you lot in on this?"

Peter held up his hands and shook his head defensively, as did a few of the others. You only narrowed your eyes and turned back to Fury as he spoke.

"Oh, you always had a choice, I just wanted to make sure you'd be willing." Fury said calmly, only now turning to look at you. "I knew you'd say yes."

"How could you possibly know I'd say yes!?"

"Well you did, didn't you?" You could almost hear laughter in his voice. The fucker practically seemed pleased with himself. You could feel your blood boiling.

"Oh yeah? How do you know I won't take it back after this stunt?"

Fury turned back to watch the vans turn around to exit the drive. "You won't. I know that well enough."

"How can you be so sure?" you say defiantly.

The Guardians look to each other worriedly. What if you did take it back because this Fury guy pissed you off? Would they have to be separated? Would they have to find a whole new planet to hide on?

Yondu eyed you as you asked your director how he was sure you wouldn't take back your offer, expecting him to say that he would be paying you too much to refuse, but he didn't expect the answer that actually came out of Fury's mouth.

"Because you offered with asking how you'd be compensated, and you still haven't asked. That, and I read your face like an open book." He now grinned as he looked at you, saying much softer, "You don't have it in you to turn them away."

You felt your face grow hot and you stuttered a bit before looking up at the sky in defeat, sighing at the darkening clouds beginning to gather overhead, a testament to your torment, to be sure. "Fine." you say. Suddenly remembering what he said, you looked back at him, "What did you mean by adjustments?"

Maria smiled at Fury as she placed a hand on your back and guided you towards the door. The other's followed.

"I know this seems like an intrusion, but we promise we didn't hurt anything. We simply added a couple beds, stocked the pantry, and updated the plumbing and wiring."

"The plumbing was fine," you grumbled, "and I was working on the wiring."

"Your home is just over 200 years old. The plumbing might have been fine when it was just you here, but now you'll be housing eight other people. I think you can understand why we would consider improving it." Fury stated, almost like a reprimand to your stubbornness. You eye him, wondering how he could know how old your home was, but you supposed he knew that the same way he knew where to find your home a week before you ever told him where it was.

Because he was Fury.

Looks were exchanged among the Guardians as they entered the home behind you, surprised to hear of the age of your home to see it in such nice condition. Though, if you had been living here they supposed it shouldn't have come to much surprise that you would have cared for it.

The front door opened up to a large hall featuring a staircase to the left. On either side of the entrance were two more doors.

Maria lead you all through the door on the right into the kitchen to briefly show they had stocked the pantry with some foods they, The Guardians as you heard them referred to as, were used to, to make the transition to Earth foods easier. They would be making bi-weekly supply drops to your home to keep the pantry stocked to feed all of them, but the food would soon be coming only from Earth, as it would be both expensive, and a possible security risk to try and keep importing foods from outer space.

You all then exited the kitchen and travelled up the stairs while Maria explained that everyone's bags had already been placed in the rooms based on what they assumed would be the correct sleeping arrangements. Of course, everyone was free to switch it up at their discretion. Once at the top of the stairs you instinctually step forward and reach up to pull the string for the light, as the hall was a bit dim due to the fading light outside, but you find it missing.

"Where the hell did-" you think softly out loud, looking up to see the whole fixture had been changed. The light then came on by itself and embarrassingly resulted in you startling in surprise. You turn to see Fury grinning slightly while shaking his head, his finger still near a switch that definitely wasn't there before you left the house that morning.

"Man, they weren't kidding when they said you Terran types were primitive, eh Pete?"

You shot the raccoon an offended look before Fury reminded you that they had updated your wiring. You blushed and looked at the new switch suspiciously, wondering how they managed to rewire your house so quickly without destroying the walls, but resisted the urge to sarcastically accuse him of witchcraft lest you give these 'Guardians' the idea that you were actually scared of electricity. Not that you cared what they thought, or anything.

Maria motioned to the first door on the left of the landing, and said to you that they naturally assumed it was the one you slept in, as it appeared to be the only one currently being inhabited. You nodded that she was correct and she continued, opening the door and informing you that they had added an extra bed and had placed Mantis's bag inside. She pointed to the woman with the antennae, indicating that's who she was referring to.

You silently nod again, a gesture that you were accepting of this arrangement. Of everything else they had done, this was one of the lesser intrusive things, next to the pantry. The woman seemed like one of the least annoying of the bunch, so you weren't going to argue. Could be worse. They could have put the raccoon or the dude with red hair in there.

You didn't see, but Mantis let out a sigh of relief at this knowledge that you weren't going to be angry about sharing your room with her. Her mood immediately brightened, convinced she was about to make a new friend.

You peeked into the room as the others pushed forward with Maria. Inside was your wooden framed single sized bed, only now pressed against the right side of the room from where it had previously been centered beneath the window. A new bed had now been set up on the left side of the room, opposite corner from your own, to leave clearance for the attic door. This bed was a black metal framed single, already fitted with grey and white sheets.

You naturally assumed Fury's team decided to add similar beds to the other rooms while also making use of the remaining beds that were already there, and so you didn't follow the others to see. You didn't really care to see, hadn't been in those rooms much in years for a reason.

You just crossed your arms and leaned to rest back against your doorframe and watched on as Maria sorted them into the rooms and Fury took to standing in the corner opposite of you, watching everything.

Fury's team had apparently placed the belongings of the blue man and the man with the neck tattoos in the room directly across from your own, and you learned their names were Yondu and Kraglin, respectively.

They placed the large man, raccoon, and wooden child all in the room further down at the end of the landing on that side, and you learned the large man was called Drax, the raccoon was Rocket, and the tiny wooden child was Groot. Something twisted in your belly seeing the little wooden child shyly peek into the room from atop Drax's shoulder, but you forced it down. No time to think about who previously owned that room right now.

The raccoon could be heard complaining, "You're seriously gonna make me sleep in a crib?"

The twisting came back, and you looked at Fury, ignoring the snickers and banter from the raccoon's friends as they both teased him for his misfortune and told him to get over it.

"We might have taken advantage of some furniture in the attic." Fury said, shrugging.

"It was locked." you say, your eyes narrowed. How would he even know to look up there? Did they literally go through your entire house when they 'scouted' it?

"So was the front door."

You sigh bitterly, only eyeing him in response.

"Is there a problem?" Fury asked, not altogether sincerely.

You shake your head and break his gaze. "It's fine."

Directly across from the previous room, Maria informed the ones you now knew as Gamora and Peter that that's where their belongings had been placed, Maria stating that they hoped they weren't being forward in assuming the pair were a couple. Gamora only nodded and said it was fine, while Peter gave her a cheeky grin that made her roll her eyes. Them being in that particular room meant you'd be sharing a wall with them, and with the knowledge that they were a couple you hopped it wouldn't mean you'd wind hearing any... 'special' noises at night while you were trying to sleep.

Once everyone knew where they'd be sleeping and seemed happy enough with the pre-arranged sleeping arrangements courtesy of who you were now mentally dubbing Intruder Fury, neck tattoo man-Kraglin- looked at Maria and asked where the restroom happened to be.

You lowered a hand from where it had previously been crossed over your chest and rapped twice on the wall, getting his attention, and pointed to the only still closed door to your left, centered in the wall across from the opening to the stairs.

He nodded in thanks, seeming slightly embarrassed that he had forgotten that this was, in fact, your house and not Intruder Fury's or Co-Intruder Hill's.

Fury gave you an unimpressed look that you read as, "Use your words." and you spoke up saying there was another bathroom downstairs if anyone else needed it. Peter spoke up saying that he could use it, and so you nodded your head towards the stairs in a "come on then" gesture and lead him as well a couple others downstairs to point where it was, down the hall towards the back of the house, past the kitchen. It was the only door at the end the hall that could be seen from where you stood, so he couldn't miss it.

Maria and Fury met you at the bottom of the stairs behind the rest of the Guardians, sans Kraglin of course.

"We trust everyone will settle in nicely," Fury said, turning a pointed look at the Guardians as he said "and will be on their best behavior." This earned a few nods from the group and he then turned to you, adding almost jokingly, "Would you like to finish the tour?"

You pointed towards the kitchen and spoke flatly, "Food's in there, so is laundry," you pointed towards the bathroom Peter had disappeared into, "Shower and toilet's in there," you pointed upstairs, "Sleep's up there," you opened the door to your left, the only room not yet explored that you were willing to open, and pointed inside, "Sitting room is in there. Watch TV, read, knock yourselves out."

Fury spoke first. "I get the way we went about this situation may seem less than ideal to you, but I assure you there's no need to be testy."

"I have every right to be 'testy.' You couldn't have just asked? If you really somehow already knew I'd say yes than why go through all-" you waved your hands around, trying to find the words, "You had to go and be all... you?!" There was an edge to your voice that drove the message. He had manipulated you, if that were even the right word for it. He had this all planned out in advance, made you a puzzle piece, you fell right where he said he knew you would, and you were meant to what? Smile about it?

"I could have," he conceded, looking thoughtful, "But that's not how I do things."

"You shook your head. You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Fury only nodded once in response before asking, "Do you have any further questions?"

You look out the door window briefly to see the clouds had gotten much darker. "Looks like rain, director. Better hurry, wouldn't want you to get wet." The edge to your voice got sharper. Fury simply nodded with a half smile. Message received. Get out.

The Guardians, who hadn't gotten your hint to go shoo off someplace, remain stood in the hall, glancing at each other awkwardly. It surprised them that a man like Fury, and the way he seemed to be, would be seemingly so cool with the way you were speaking to him.

You spoke again as he reached for the door. "See you tomorrow. Ottawa case, right?"

Fury stopped. "Actually no. You won't be coming in tomorrow."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You've been moved off that case to this one, we won't be shipping you off to Canada. In fact, you're off all further cases for the foreseeable future."

"Am I being punished for something, sir?" you ask, the edge still not having left your voice, but it was now softened by confusion.

"No." Fury replied, "If anything, consider it a vacation."

"I did not ask for a vacation, sir." you say, trying to bite back the irritation in your voice. "I have no desire to just stay home."

Maria looked at Fury with a 'told-you-so' expression, stating to him that she had known you wouldn't have taken this well.

Fury looked at you firmly. "You're due for one, and we need someone to stay and guard them. You already live here, they're staying here- Two birds, one stone."

Your face hardened in indignation. "So I'm a babysitter now? Look, if you're retiring me just say so."

The Guardians still stood there awkwardly, Kraglin finally coming down the stairs to quietly join them, eyes wide and wondering where all the tension had come from. Maria tilted her head toward the sitting room, hoping they might get the hint. They did, awkwardly backing into the room, not wishing to interrupt your argument with Fury.

"You're not being retired-"

"Good. Then I can keep working. There's literally no reason why I need to stay home."

"You haven't taken a vacation in five years." Fury said, the authoritative tone in his voice rising, "This isn't a request. It's an order."

Peter then exists the bathroom, saying "What did I miss-" and almost shrinking back inside when he notices his friends are gone and the tense looks between you and Fury. Mercifully, Agent Hill gestures him to the sitting room and he sidesteps his way past while you ignore him, too focused on trying to burn Fury with your eyes.

Knowing you had no options and could make no further arguments, you angrily yielded. "Yes, sir." you say bitterly.

"That's better. If you need anything you know how to contact me or Agent Hill." With that he bid you goodbye and opened the door.

It was now beginning to rain outside.

"Warned you about that rain." you snarked as he made his way out the door.

***

Agent Hill looked at Fury as they entered his vehicle, the rain coming down harder now.

"Stubborn as hell, that one." Fury remarked, turning his key in the ignition.

Maria agreed, but also stated she thought this might be good for you as they drove away.

***

You stood there in the hall for a good moment before Gamora asked if everything was ok from the doorway of the sitting room. You looked at her, and she went on to apologize for their intrusion in your home but also said they were grateful you allowed them to stay.

She started to say something else, probably was going to be more apologies border-lining on 'please don't change your mind,' but you raised your hand and cut her off, "Don't worry about it. It's not you guy's fault he's an asshole," you say. You look at her and you can see she is tired, probably both from lack of sleep and worry. You try to be more gentle. "Look, it's fine. Just... settle in. I know it's late, but there's food in the kitchen if you guys are hungry, I'm- I'm gonna go clean something." You break eye contact and head into the kitchen, sure there was at least a plate or glass in the sink you could tend to.

Sure, enough, once you got to the sink you noticed a few dishes from the morning, and so you turned on the tap. You decided cold water was good enough, not feeling like waiting for the immersion to heat up, but you turned the knob for the hot water anyway out of habit. Realizing you had thrown the old dish rag in the laundry without replacing it, you allowed the water to run while you searched the drawer for another.

You heard footsteps entering the kitchen as you returned to the sink, and assume someone must have finally decided they were hungry. Not turning to greet whoever it was, you absently run the cloth under the tap to get it wet- only to immediately rip it back with a, "g-OW! Damn! Fuck!"

You doubled over, holding your burning hand.

"You ok? What happened?"

You look up, squinting through pain, to see Drax had asked the question, standing in the doorway with Mantis and Gamora, the little tree child sitting on her shoulder.

You breathed. "Yeah. One of those fuckers must have turned the immersion on and left it." You straighten yourself, your hand still smarted but you knew it'd be alright, and turned off the tap with the dishrag. "I'll check it out."

You exit the kitchen through the other door at the far end of the room to check the hot press to the right of the cellar door behind the stairs, intent to turn the immersion off, and bitterly wondering just how long it had been left on for. However, once you opened the door your immersion was nowhere to be seen. You stared in confusion at the new pipes that now ran straight through the floor into the cellar before noticing a note taped to the back wall that only said "Upgraded to boiler. Check basement. ♡ Maria."

You narrowed your eyes and opened the cellar door, already pulling out your phone as you descended the stairs. You quickly located this new boiler fairly quickly. It was cylindrical in shape and black in color, and much larger than your previous heating unit, probably why it was now in the cellar. You dialed the phone, the first word out of your mouth when you got an answer was simply, "Why?"

***

The other guardians in the sitting room had also heard your swearing and peeked out of the room just in time to see you walking very cranky-like across the hall. They looked at the three standing in the kitchen doorway and they only shrugged in response to their quizzical glances.

Curious, and hearing you walk down the stairs, Peter and Kraglin tiptoed over to the Cellar door to see what was going on, standing just off from the door. They caught bits of your end of the conversation.

"Why?" ...

"Well, yes I can understand that, but-" ...

"Well you could have warned me! I just about burned my hand off!" ...

"Fine. How does it work?" ...

"No, I'm not going to-" ...

"Yes, I know they-" ...

"You know what, I'll figure it out. Bye."

They hear you start to climb the steps and scurry back to the sitting room, not wishing to make it apparent they were eavesdropping on their new host.

You re-enter the kitchen and grab a glass of milk to soothe your nerves, seeing as it was now raining buckets and you couldn't be bothered for a walk as you would have preferred.

You sit at the table and look to see the three still standing in the doorway. You raise an eyebrow. "You alright there?" Thinking bizarrely that they must be shy you gesture towards the pantry. "Food's over there if you're hungry."

Drax merely shrugged and took up the offer, guiding Mantis over with him, but not before accepting Groot from Gamora.

Gamora stepped towards the table and took a seat across from you. "I couldn't help but notice you seem less than happy about this arrangement, I'm sorry-"

You cut her off once again. "Don't be sorry. I already told you it's not your fault Fury can be a dick. It's just a lot of new all at once and I wasn't expecting it. You're fine." You take another sip of milk, finally realizing what it was that she was actually afraid of. "You don't need to be scared that I'll send you back or anything."

She actually seemed to relax a bit. "Thank you. If there's anything-"

You set your glass on the table and fold your hands. Sentiment made you uncomfortable. "Look, as long as you guys clean up after yourselves and don't destroy my home, we're fine." Looking for a change of subject you said, "Why don't you introduce the rest of your friends. It couldn't hurt to get to know you a little."

Gamora smiled slightly. "Well, that's Drax and Mantis." she said, pointing to the two who were now coming back to sit down with their snacks. "And this is Groot," she added once Mantis sat the child on the table.

You smiled. "Cute little bugger, isn't he?"

"I am Groot!" he said excitedly, taking a bite of a food you didn't recognize. Must have been one of those outer-space types.

"Hello, Groot. How are you?"

"I am Groot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Um.." Maybe he misunderstood you?

Before you could ask again, Drax speaks up. "That's all he can say. He means he's ok."

"Oh." You nod slightly and take a sip of your milk, bemused. "I see."

The four of you conversed for a little bit. You learned that Drax liked knives, and he seemingly took everything very literally. Mantis was sweet, and she was convinced you two would be friends. She also said she was excited to share a room with you, because it would be like a sleepover. Gamora gave you a smile that seemed to say "forgive her," but you honestly weren't too bothered. It was almost sweet. Before you could ask about Gamora though, she stood up and asked if you'd like to meet the others.

You shrugged and nodded, placing your now empty glass in the sink before following her out to the sitting room where the other men were.

You walked in and saw Peter sitting in an armchair listening to a music player, seemingly ignoring the other two men as they stood looking weirdly at the TV. The blue man tilted his head at it, a hand to his chin in thought, while the other waved his arms slowly in front of it saying, "I dunno. Maybe it's broken?" He looked ridiculous.

You stifle a laugh and asked, "What are you doing?"

They turn to you, the blue man speaks. "Tryin' to figure out how to turn on this Terran TV of yers. Rat says they're motion activated, but nothin' we do is workin.'"

You give him a strange look. "Motion-? No- You just use the remote."

Then you hear a snickering and find it's coming from the raccoon, perched on the back of the couch. "Rocket." Gamora says in a mix of scolding and accusation, and he starts laughing harder, jumping down on the cushions to retrieve the controller from between them. "You guys looked so stupid! Ahaha!"

Yondu glares and Kraglin snatches the remote, flipping the television on and raising his hands in an annoyed "There we go!" gesture, sharing an annoyed look with Yondu at Rocket.

You motion to one of the game controllers on the coffee table, stating they'd want to use one of those if they wanted to actually watch something, as the first controller only turned the TV on.

Before you could offer to show them how to use Netflix, Gamora started introducing the remaining guardians.

Peter removed his earbuds and greeted you, standing to shake your hand, only to be shot down by you saying there was no need to be so formal, keeping to yourself the fact that despite working for Fury, you hated formal with a passion. He held up his hands and sat back down. "No problem there. We're probably the least formal people you can get." he said with a smile. You didn't see, but Gamora gave him a warning look that kept him from putting his feet up on the table.

The other two men and the raccoon seemed to agree with Peter, and nodded their greetings to you instead when introduced.

"Say, just curious, but how come it's just you living in this big ol' house by yerself?" came a question from Yondu.

You probably should have expected that question, but you didn't like it all the same. You were trying to decided if 'Don't worry about it' would be too rude of an answer when Peter notices the change in your expression and adds his own question out of fear that Yondu had offended you in some way. "How long have you been here? Fury said this place was old."

You chose to answer Peter's question instead. "Grew up here. House has been in the family since it was built."

"Oh. Cool." said Peter.

Not looking forward to any more possible questions about yourself you looked up to the clock and found your way out.

"Well, it's nearly ten, I think I'll turn in early." you say, excusing yourself.

Just then a loud thunderclap sounded and you heard a squeal from the kitchen.

"Kid scared of storms?" you ask, looking to Gamora.

The lights go out. You hear a scream.

"Nah, but apparently Bug is." says Yondu.

Realizing he likely meant Mantis, and that Mantis was your new roommate, you sigh. "I'll get a flashlight."

The lights flickered back on.

"Nevermind."

Everyone pretty much decided to go to bed after that, Mantis shyly shuffling into the bedroom a few minutes after you to retrieve some items from her bag and coming back dressed for bed as you scrolled through Tumblr, having already washed up and dressed for bed.

She crawled into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Thunder cracked again and she whimpered. You honestly felt a little bad for her.

"Do... does this happen often?" she asked.

"The storm? No." you answered honestly. "It'll be over soon. Just try to sleep." You stand up to turn the light off but pause, turning back to the curled up form on the bed opposite of your own, your face softening. "Would you like me to leave a lamp on?"

Mantis nodded.

You click on your desk lamp before turning off the overhead light and crawling into your own bed. You heard her say goodnight to you from across the room.

"Night," you return, turning toward the wall.

They were an odd lot, a bit dysfunctional, but you decided they were ultimately harmless. 'This whole ordeal will be over before I know it,' you thought as you closed your eyes.

You'd find out soon enough that you thought wrong.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #peter quill #star lord #gamora #baby groot #mantis #drax the destroyer #nick fury #witness protection #fugitives #hiding #rocket raccoon

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ackasamii--archive · 3 years

Text

just as he wanted

summary: with love comes sacrifice

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: angst

note: so this is a repost of my one shot from other blog i impulsively deleted so i hope you enjoy this!!

When was the last time she laughed? A full wholehearted laugh from the core.

Ah, it was in her small New York apartment located in the quiet part of Brooklyn. It was rare to catch a quiet moment in New York, but home was the place Y/n always went. And this time, she brought a friend who was in dire need of it. Someone who carried the world on his shoulders quite often, someone who needed a day or two to relax for once.

With a grin on her face, Y/n handed the last of the dumplings to Steve, who sat comfortably on her worn couch that she had brought at least two or three years ago. The couch had seen better days, the green color was faded, some tears here and there, but she couldn’t find herself to complain. After all, it had many nights of long and thoughtful conversations from five years ago, and she couldn’t bring herself to give that up. If her memory were to vanish at an older age, what else could remind her of the time spent with Captain Steve Rogers?

Steve stared at the two dumplings left and shook his head, “Take them, I’ve had enough of those for one night.” He smiled and let a short chuckle escape his lips, but lately, she’s started to notice how his smile never reached his eyes. Which is why she persisted he have the last of the two dumplings. He looked Y/n in the eyes and assured, “Really, I’m fine.”

Y/n sighed at his stubbornness but let it go as she set the box down on the coffee table and settled down next to him, leaving just enough space between them. She couldn’t help but stare at the man before her with an adoring smile while he was lost in his own wandering thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

He blinked and turned to stare back at her, “What are you thinking about?”

“I asked first.”

Her heart fluttered once another smile broke out onto his lips. Steve leaned forward, clasping his hands together and sighed. “Honestly…” Y/n scooted closer to hear him better, their shoulders nearly touching. “What my life would’ve been like if I hadn’t been on that plane.”

With a thoughtful look, Y/n shrugged, “A lot different, man. I mean if you weren’t on the plane, I wouldn’t know that one story Bucky told me about you and a trash can lid.”

Steve laughed lightly, his muscles flexing slightly with every movement he made, and then his blue eyes met hers.

“Peggy and I, we…” Steve stopped short, looking down at his hands and hadn’t noticed the frown now on her lips. Or the fact that her heart sank at the mention of his old flame. He looked back at Y/n, who quickly made her frown disappear as he asked, “Have I ever told you about the time we met?”

She shook her head but remained silent, letting him continue. Something ugly within her tickled her heart as he passionately talked about that woman. That woman she would possibly never be able to compete with. Eventually, she had to come to this conclusion one way or another without avoiding it. As the spark in his eyes grew brighter and brighter, she knew that his heart still sat in the palms of that woman’s hands.

It hurt her to no end. It hurt her that she wasn’t good enough for him, it hurt her that he may never see her the same way he saw Peggy Carter. Perhaps she was nothing like her, but at times, she wished she could be. But could she blame the woman? No. It was Y/n that just couldn’t compete or even be compared to such a brilliant and strong woman.

Steve told her time when he first got his shield. And how Peggy shot at him. The scenario was so entertaining, that Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Laughing at that point in time would’ve been so foreign, but not between the two. It was almost natural, as if they were old friends. Which was exactly what Y/n knew he saw her as.

Now, Y/n had no idea why this memory came to mind. Maybe she needed one semi-happy moment to lift her fallen spirits while cladded in black. It was the black clothes. She wanted to change out of them quickly and that’s what she was about to do right after Tony’s funeral. After paying her respects, Y/n was ready to return back to her small apartment alone and possibly take in everything that has happened.

But no.

She stood stiff in front of the time machine transporter or whatever the hell Banner called it, with Steve on her right. Somehow, she didn’t know how, Y/n had gotten wind that Steve was going to travel back and return all the stones. Alone. Normally, she would protest to such a horrid plan only because she was worried about his safety. But this time, she was in too much shock to even utter one word. She wandered how Bucky or even Sam was okay with this. Or why she wasn’t told about this. Maybe because of this very reason, Y/n would try and stop him, and then it would be her fault that time would be screwed up.

So, that’s why she stood silent and stiff to the side while Steve was giving Bucky a hug as if he won’t be coming back. Y/n hoped Steve wouldn’t be that stupid to try something. Finally, he had turned to her, Y/n tried relaxing her shoulders and sending him an encouraging smile, but he could see right through her façade and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

She shrugged with a defeated look on her face, “Can’t help it.” Impulsiveness was strong today. Y/n pulled him into a hug and buried her face into his shoulder. Her hold was tight as if he was disappear in mere seconds. After a few seconds, she finally let him go and mumbled a, “sorry.”

He only chuckled as he walked towards the platform. What if he doesn’t come back, those thoughts kept nagging at the back of her mind and her mouth suddenly became dry as she wondered if this was her chance just to say it. It three words she’s been ready to say ever since he first came over to her apartment. If she tells him before he leaves, maybe he’ll come back, maybe there would be something more than just friends..

Her moment would pass if she didn’t say anything now. She doesn’t hear Banner count down as she nears the platform, blurting, “Steve—”

But she was a second too late.

His figure was nowhere to be seen and Y/n fiddled with her fingers anxiously. ‘No, I will tell him,’ she assures herself, ‘when he comes back I will tell him.’

Y/n closed her eyes and quietly counted down to five along with Banner. Her heart pounded against her chest excitedly as she got to three. Her fingers became shaky and clammy as she reached four.

She opened her eyes at five.

Only, he wasn’t there.

It was like there was no breath in her lungs and her heart had fallen out of her mouth. With wide eyes, she whipped around to face Banner who was frantically looking at the tech set up before him.

“What happened? Where is he?” Her questions came out rushed and frantic while she looked from the platform and to Banner. After receiving no answers from the green giant, her voice became strain as she shouts, “Bruce, where is he?!”

“I don’t know!” Banner said with his eyes still focused on the contraption.

She was too late. The realization dawned on her as she stared at where Steve once stood. What if he was stuck somewhere, please don’t be stuck somewhere. Y/n’s heart was beating so fast, she was pretty sure it could run a marathon right now. Where the hell was he?

In the corner of her eye, her state of panic shifted as she spotted Sam walking away from the scene and Bucky standing further away. She watched the two, wandering why they weren’t showing the appropriate reaction to this situation. But Y/n kept watching, Sam walked past Bucky and towards an occupied bench. She doesn’t remember seeing that bench, overlooking the lake. Was that always there or did she never pay any mind to it before now?

Y/n trudged to Bucky’s side, she studied his face and the scene ahead of her. Sam was speaking to the figure on the bench, the tension soon shifted, and it finally dawned on her. Her mouth hung open as she watched the two. How…? Time travel was quite the complicated topic for her and in this moment she couldn’t understand what the hell had happened.

“Is that…?” She wanted to be sure, but the answer was already settled deep within her.

Bucky only nodded in response, not once his eyes had wavered from the two. From the back, she could definitely feel that it wasn’t the same Steve. Which meant…

He went back for her.

She should’ve realized it sooner and stopped him. But she was too late. Y/n was too late because she was a coward to say anything then and all the other times where she had the opportunity. This was what she got for being so fearful of rejection. Her eyes welled but she willed herself not to cry, she couldn’t and won’t cry. It was her fault for missing her opportunity.

A few minutes pass as Sam comes back with the shield in his hand. But Y/n’s remained on the figure on the bench. Seconds pass and Bucky isn’t by her side anymore, only her, slowly moving towards the bench in curiosity and caution. Maybe she should’ve prepared herself for what she would find, or maybe she shouldn’t have approached him. No matter, she was already next to the bench looking at an older version of Steve Rogers.

There were always jokes about Steve acting like such an old man. But now, he was right there. Sitting on the wooden bench with a relaxed smile on his face, his blue eyes facing the ocean. After hesitating back and forth with herself, Y/n sat down at the end of the bench to stare at the view with him, only she caught sight of a silver object around one of his fingers. The same ugly thing bubbled within her as she glared at the ring until his hands shifted and she finally looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Steve was smiling. No, it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t a simple smile. This was his happiness. She could see it in his eyes as they lit up. In all her life, she had never seen someone so at peace and happy. So blissfully happy.

The brutal truth hit her in the face right then and there. She had been selfish. Y/n had wanted Steve to stay and be with her so they could both live a happy life. But that was not what he wanted. He was taken from his time and forced into this new one without having the normal life that he desired and deserved. She wanted him to stay somewhere he wasn’t meant to be. Now she understood the saying, the truth hurts. Maybe she knew the truth already and just denied it.

Y/n knew there was no way of stopping him. Why would she stop him from gaining his happiness? What kind of person would that make her?

“You kids didn’t get into too much trouble, did you?” She teased lightly, trying to smile.

There, his chuckle was throaty but warm. “You’ll never know.”

An amused smile curved onto her lips.

Then she was back. Back on that couch, during that night, next to Steve who had trailed off in his story telling and deep into his sinking thoughts. She noticed how much he did that whenever they talked about either Peggy or the forties. Her envious heart blinked back tears as she looked away from him bitterly, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she glared at the box of dumplings.

Maybe she should eat them.

Only she didn’t make a move for the box, she turned to stare back at his side profile, still in adoration. She couldn’t help herself. But it hurt that he would stare at her the same way.

“Do you still love her?”

His eyes twinkled as he stared back at her. There was no answer but you knew and he knew. It was unspoken, but they knew.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the older man in content. She sighed and wiped the rogue tear away from her cheek and turned her gaze to the view before them. He doesn’t return her feelings, this was her first love, and she knew now that love meant sacrifice, thanks to Tony. Maybe the best way to love Steve Rogers…

Was to let him go.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve x reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america #mcu x reader #mcu #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #steve x black!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine

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