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ooshu · 1 year

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still here

summary: it all started with a kiss from your best friend, mark. and most cases, one night stands do not usually end well... right?

note: best friend!mark, sexual implications, cursing/profanities, making out? and purely confused and panicking mark lee.

genre: 99.9% angst and 0.1% fluff | word count: 1.5k

- mark never had a good night's sleep in a while until now.

he opened his eyes and the window to his left side almost told him “good morning”, so bright, so sunny. but he looked at the bookshelves beside a study table, and the bulletin board stacked with utility bills and polaroid films of friends just above a supposed to be a replica of surely an andy warhol pop-art painting.

this was definitely not mark’s room.

he was about to remove the blanket that is sitting on his legs when a figure beside him shuffled a little. the back facing him was bare, messy hair all he could see. but he instantly recognized it, and the room, for so long; because it was you.

slightly panicking, mark carefully removed the warm clothing above his thighs then there he saw that he was only wearing his boxers. right above, just a little, he could see the messy lining of his shirt, and it was definitely worn the other way around.

he rose from the bed carefully, avoiding causing any disturbance. mark made sure his footsteps were inaudible while he was looking for his pants and grey hoodie on the floor. he slowly picked his jeans up, but the belt still made a faint clang noise that he held it so tightly while putting it back on. he also removed his wrinkled, reversed shirt so it would be worn correctly this time before topping it with his grey hoodie.

then mark just… stood there in front of your bed, watching you, trying to recall what has happened last night. then it was all slowly coming back to him.

now, if you happened to wake up at this very moment, then what would he do?

mark bit his lower lip as he was trying to answer the question he is about to face later on. he suddenly felt the need to apologize.

maybe because may have been selfish.

he suddenly kissed you while watching before sunrise. maybe, just maybe, if the romantic and sexual tension were not so intense throughout the film, then he would not have needed to finally act upon what he has been thinking all this time.

but the fact that you gave in... god, he thought, you gave in. no sight of alcohol around, just pure sober thoughts. mark has no idea where he got the push.

but was he remember asking you if you wanted it. mark needed the confirmation, just to make sure you are on the same page as him.

“you want this, right?”

you were catching your breath from the heated kiss when he asked. and yes, you wanted more.

“i would not hold back this time, baby”, you giggled. you liked him calling you baby. “are you sure?”

“mark..." you replied. "baby…”

you were straddling him and started kissing his neck again. mark’s eyes were closed and feeling his crotch against your clothed sex, but he was not so sure that you understand; that if you continue along, the morning may not be the same anymore.

and now, with mark wondering, here we are.

so he removed your arms, now wrapped around his neck while you planted kisses on his cheek, and firmly intertwined his hand with yours.

mark looked you in the eyes so intently, your gaze could not leave his.

“i’m asking again,”, he emphasized. “are you sure you really want to do this?”

and it took you seconds to nod, as you had already caught what he is thinking—the consequences, the adjustments, the confrontation to be served via breakfast.

“mmh”, you hummed.

“words. i need to hear it.”

“yes, mark. i want this.”, you replied. “do you?”

“yes, i do… so much.” he put his palm on the right side of your cheek, just a little graze yet soft, so warm, so lovely. “you have no idea.”

mark has been staring at your still-sleeping figure for too long. too long, really. should he just leave a text that says, “hey... we need to talk about last night.”? or maybe go for an old-fashioned way and write a note saying “i had to go. errands.”, when in fact, it is a sunday morning and he is actually on work leave?

but omitting some words behind these questions, should he leave?—the simple question as it is, but would he be treating you the same as his one-night stands? for him, you deserve more than just ditching and letting avoidance do its own work at this point. you are a friend—the best friend.

you finally shuffled from your former position, still sleeping. from facing the back, your body is now almost facing where mark stands still. his fight or flight response is now asking him several questions. he wanted to run from the consequences he emphasized last night. he thought he could handle them but fuck, no.

mark, noticing that you were still unconscious made him run his fingers through his hair. slightly frustrated and he may have muttered "fuck, fuck, fuck!", a little too loud and-

“just lock the door when you leave, mark.”

mark froze on his feet, mouth agape at your sudden words.

you said it so... nonchalantly. and so you went back to your former position, facing your back against him once again too quickly but still, eyes closed.

you were waiting for him to leave immediately now you may have answered the thing that has been bugging him for minutes now.

and of course, you knew the moment you gave in, there was no turning back. you wish you could say “i love you.”, but you would have rather devour into the kiss, hoping your actions would translate those words instead. so you went along; touching him for the very first time, and feeling all of him for the last time.

but what hurts most is that you know where this is gonna go, that you will wake up to the sounds of shuffling and rummaging the one-night stand’s clothes on the floor, and the footsteps while the guy is putting his shoes on. and what has happened this morning so far is no exception.

maybe mark was too kind just to leave because you are you. and it stings more to know that you are just… a friend.

and it hurts more to see that he was ready to go.

so you just had to instruct him what others usually do. and you just wish you woke up a little later on an empty, messy bed—finding him gone for good.

mark felt a strong pang struck into his chest. he felt like his heart is being held tight, being twisted, being ripped into pieces.

and it hurts him more that you thought he was going to leave, that you thought he was going to be another one-night stand, and that you have already accepted that everything that you both went through is now ruined.

so when mark walked towards the door, your breath suddenly hitched but was inaudible. he clicked the lock, turned the doorknob, and you heard the door opening and closing.

you finally let out a sob that has been desperately wanting to be released as he was collecting his things.

tears damped your pillow until your cries lulled you to sleep.

your room is illuminated by the sunset, thanks to the always bright window. already past afternoon, you managed to escape the dreadful morning.

a little foolish of you, really, to check your phone and hope mark would leave a text. you chuckled at the ridiculous thought, only to find your notification bar empty.

but then you heard faint noises coming from your living room. a little shuffling and steps over there. you stood up and opened your door.

and there he was, actually in the kitchen, checking out what is in your refrigerator. you slowly walked in his direction.

“mark?”

he turned around and said, “hey.”

“what are you doing?”

“trying to cook.”

and he was holding his phone, and there appears to be a cooking tutorial paused on the screen.

“cook what?”

“pesto…? actually, dang, you don’t have enough ingredients so i’m just gonna do a quick run at 7/11 so—”

“mark?”, you asked, now more confused than ever, “you never left.”

for mark, this was never a mistake. he had wanted and waited for this for so long. this—overcoming the boundaries and just feeling you entirely–the making out, the fucking, the embracing, the tangled bodies, the intertwined hands, the how are yous, the sharing of joys and growing pains, everything and more; and most importantly, the i love yous.

he finally did not walk out the door for once, now that he has had you in his arms last night. no fumbling with the bags this time.

enough of the jealousy and the constant checking of his phone, waiting for a text after you went out on a date, thinking he is going to lose you to another guy because mark could never say how much you mean to him. no more subtle touching, like how he likes it when he wraps his arms around your shoulders. sometimes, he would just leave it there after saying he needs to protect you while crossing the street. and more, so much more.

mark needs more—never from but of–mark needs more of you. because good god, for once, he knows what love is—and love is the entirety of you.

so mark just shrugged with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“still here, baby.”

and you loved that cute, stupid smile every single time.

what a sight.

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prettiestdolliestgirl · 3 months

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i blinked and suddenly, i had a valentine

pairing: Mike Schmidt x reader

tags: wholesome, fluff, short oneshot

synopsis: it’s your first ever Valentine’s Day having a valentine and Mike wants to make it the best day possible

-> inspired by valentine by laufey

A/N: i wrote this in a hurry because i really wanted to write a little something for Valentine’s Day so here it is! hope you’ll enjoy it! <3

Mike and you have been dating for a few months now, you moved with him and Abby a month ago, it felt like a dream come true. You never fell this hard for anyone before, you weren’t scared to picture a future with him and Abby. Abby loves having you around and you love playing with her, doing her hair, and making fun of her older brother together while he burns dinner in the kitchen.

Mike never saw Abby be this comfortable with an adult that wasn’t him before and it only made him love you more. He also knew Valentin’s day was approaching and he knows you love romance, Mike doesn’t have a lot of money but he really wanted to make this day special for you somehow. On the other hand, you weren’t expecting anything, you know Mike is extremely tired from working tirelessly, taking care of the house and Abby, he barely has any time to rest. So, because of that you weren’t expecting much, being able to spend the day with him was already more than enough. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic and knowing that for the first time in your life, you were going to spend Valentine’s Day with someone that you were head over heels for felt like the greatest gift you could have ever received.

You wake up to go to work with soft kisses all over your face, you open your eyes to see your lover and his sleepy brown eyes looking at you. You can’t help but smile widely, you don’t recall ever being this happy before. « Happy Valentine’s Day babe » he whispers, smiling back at you.

You get up to wake Abby up for school and you all eat breakfast together. You all leave the house and hop in the car, drop Abby off at school, and then Mike drops you off at work, you kiss him goodbye and get going.

You couldn’t help but think about him all day, you were so distracted that it made your coworkers smile, they were really happy to see you finally get the love you deserve.

Mike got to work and couldn’t help but feel anxious. He wanted to make this day great for you, he even called Vanessa multiple times for advice. She told him that he just had to make you feel special which confused Mike even more but he really wanted to make you feel loved so he decided to do as best as he could with the little money he had saved for the occasion, I wasn’t much but he’ll make it work he thought.

He even arranged his shift so that he could be home before you and surprise you properly and asked Vanessa to take Abby for the night for a sleepover which she was delighted by.

As his shift ended, he quickly got home and assembled a board with all of your favorite snacks on it, he rented your favorite movie and got you a pretty box he got at an antique shop you love. In the box, Mike put pictures of you two together and some with you and Abby, he also wrote a sweet note which was the hardest part for him, he has the hardest time when it comes to talking about his feelings but he always felt the need to tell you how much he loved you. He looked at the hour and got going to pick up Abby from school before that went to the florist to pick up a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and a tulip for Abby. She looked quite happy but she was even happier when he told her he was dropping her off at Vanessa’s for the night. He has a quick chat with Vanessa who reassures him that you were going to love everything he did for you.

Mike gets back in his car and goes to your workplace to pick you up. You wave your coworkers goodbye and hop in the car excitedly. As you enter the car you notice Abby isn’t in it and you ask « Where’s Abby? » Mike answers « At Vanessa’s, I dropped her off before coming.. I figured it could be fun for us to have the house to ourselves tonight » with a slight smirk. You were increasingly excited now, you hadn’t had time alone with Mike in quite a while now and you were undoubtedly looking up to it. Mike drove back home and you sensed that he was quite nervous. You head back home but as you turn around you see Mike with, in hand, a small but tasteful bouquet of your favorite flowers Mike had hidden in the truck. « Mike! You really didn’t have to! They’re so pretty, I don’t even know what to say! » you say. Mike smiles widely in response.

You enter the house and notice everything Mike had planned during the afternoon. You look back at him and can’t even function enough to word anything so you jump in his arms, hugging him tightly. Then you pulled away and kissed his face everywhere, « I love you so much Mike, no one ever did anything like this for me before » you say as you pulled away from his face. « One last thing, » he said getting the box, « I know it’s not much… but you hope you like it. ». You open the box and a single tear rolls down your cheek, « Mike… I… I love it… I really do » you say, your voice almost not coming out.

As you finished thanking Mike for the 13th time, you both got comfortable on the couch and enjoyed snacks while watching movies cuddled up against each other, you both felt safe and in love. You’re glad you waited this long to have to fall in love because would never want another person than Mike as your first-ever Valentine.

#fnaf movie mike #fnaf #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt oneshot #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fanfic #wholesome #valentines day #Spotify

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mariacallous · 30 days

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Content warning: This article includes scenes of physical and sexual harassment and assault.

The trouble in Antarctica started in Boston. It was August 1999, and Stanford geologist Jane Willenbring was then a 22-year-old self-described “country bumpkin.” She had just arrived to start her master’s in earth science at Boston University. As an undergrad with an oboe scholarship at North Dakota State University, she’d studied beetle fossils found in Antarctica and learned how, millions of years ago, the now frozen continent once pooled with freshwater lakes. “That’s not so different from the conditions we might expect in the future,” she says. She wanted to explore this critical science. “It seemed really important for future global climate change,” she says.

Of all the geologists, few were more renowned than the one Willenbring had gone to Boston to study under: 37-year-old David Marchant. Marchant, a scruffy professor at BU, was a rock star of rock study. He was part of a research group that rewrote Antarctic history by discovering evidence of volcanic ash, which showed that Antarctica had been stable for millions of years and was not as prone to cycles of warming and cooling as many thought. To honor his achievements, the US Board on Geographic Names approved the naming of a glacier southwest of McMurdo Station, the main research base on Antarctica, after him.

Willenbring says Marchant had insisted on picking her up at the airport, an offer she thought was nice but strange. It got stranger when he started making her feel bad for his gesture, which she hadn’t asked for. “I’m missing a Red Sox game,” she recalls him chiding her. “You really should have picked a better time to fly.” He asked whether she had a boyfriend, how often she saw him, and whether she knew anyone in Boston or would be alone. In a few months, she’d be heading with him on a research trip to Antarctica and the region with his big chunk of namesake ice. “It was almost like a pickup line,” she recalls, “‘I have a glacier.’”

But it’s what happened in the glacier’s shadow that led Willenbring to take on Marchant and become the first to expose the horrors faced by women at the bottom of the world. A report released in August 2022 by the National Science Foundation, the main agency funding Antarctic research, found that 59 percent of women at McMurdo and other field stations run by the US Antarctic Program said they’d experienced sexual harassment or assault. A central employer, Leidos, holds a $2.3 billion government contract to manage the workplaces on the ice. One woman alleged that a supervisor had slammed her head into a metal cabinet and then attacked her sexually. Britt Barquist, a former fuel foreman at McMurdo, says she had been forced to work alongside a supervisor who had sexually harassed her. “What was really traumatic was telling people, ‘I’m afraid of this person,’” she says, “and nobody cared.”

With a congressional investigation underway, Willenbring is sharing her full story for the first time with the hope of inspiring others to come forward and claim the justice they’ve long deserved. But even now, decades after she first got into Marchant’s car, she can’t help asking herself how, and why, the nightmare happened in the first place. “You never hear a women-in-science panel where people are talking about stuff like I do,” she says, “because they’re smart enough to fucking run.”

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multific · 1 year

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Memories of You

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: He was only trying to protect you and the kid, his family, but as a result he lost something near and dear to him, his memories of you.

"He hit his head really hard, Miss. He remembers his kid... but not you."

"Me?" you looked at the droid, confused.

"Yes. He said he had no recollection of a... travelling partner."

"At least he is still alive." you told yourself and the nurse. But it still didn't help the empty feeling in your chest.

---

You have been travelling with the Mandalorian since he took the child into his clan.

A clan of three. As the armourer often referred to you. Even if back then, you weren't married to Din.

But he forgot it all.

Everything.

Every moment he shared with you is gone. He didn't remember you.

He didn't remember the months and months you two spent dancing around your feelings. He didn't remember the moment you finally confessed, driven by a couple drinks to give you courage. He didn't remember how he made you close your eyes so he could remove his helmet and kiss you. He didn't remember your wedding and your vows.

He didn't remember you.

All thanks to a blow to the head and a great explosion.

You looked at Boba, tears in your eyes as the nurse left. he offered you a warm hug and the words 'Everything will be fine.'

But nothing was.

Once Din was able to walk again, he got the kid, not even looking at you as he was about to board his ship and leave.

Din didn't understand why the kid was crying so loudly as he put him into the ship. The kid kept on jumping out and running away.

"We have to go." Din said but the kid didn't listen, and so, he let Grogu go and followed him.

He followed the child right back to Boba's palace where he found the kitchen and in there, a young woman.

Her eyes filled with tears. Din watched as the kid ran to her leg and hugged it. She knelt down and picked him up, Din watched as the child had a tight hold on her.

As if- As if a baby grabbing onto their mother.

"I'm sorry about him. He is stubborn." Din said as he tried to take his son back from the stranger but he wasn't willing to.

"It's okay." you smiled at your husband as you looked down at your so. "Now, Grogu, you have to let go okay. Everything will be fine." you placed a kiss to his temple before giving him back to the Mandalorian. You felt tears falling from your eyes as you quickly turned and ran off. Din's helmet followed you as you exited the kitchen.

"What a strange woman." he said as the kid cooed.

---

Din had been gone for a month. And he couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. He often looked at his ship, looking at all the seats and he couldn't help but feel someone was missing.

He did recall the droid telling him of a woman waiting outside. But he didn't travel with anyone. It was a clan of two, him and his son, no one else.

Then he couldn't stop thinking about the woman in Boba's palace. She looked so beautiful but also extremely sad, as if she lost someone.

His mind was filled with all these thoughts. And he couldn't shake any of them.

He was in a rented room, the kid sleeping soundly in his brand new hover stroller that he got for him.

But Din couldn't sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. But strangely, he saw her smiling, smiling at him. When he finally managed to fall asleep, he dreamt.

"Din! I told you not to let him in the mud!"

"He wanted to play there."

"But now look at him, he needs a bath and his clothes need washing." Din watched as you quickly walked to the bathroom, taking care of your son. Soon, Grogu was sleeping on the left side of his chest, while you were cuddled up on his right. Your hand running up and down the kid's back, occasionally running down Din's stomach, under the beskar.

"Stop tempting me, the kid is right here." he said, making you flinch as if you were expecting him to be asleep.

"Tempting? I thought I was calming you."

"You are... making things difficult."

"Oh." you pulled your hand up to your lips, smiling. "Sorry, Riduur. It has been a while." you looked up at his helmet as he didn't move.

"We will find time. Sleep now, Meshla."

"Goodnight." you said.

Din woke with a start. Suddenly his mind flooded with memories. Memories of how he got to the medical in the first place. He remembers grabbing you and putting you and the kid to safety. He remembers you telling him to be careful and he promised he would be.

He wanted to help the people inside the building. But he didn't expect an explosion.

But his memories went further back.

He recalled your first meeting, then your first kiss. He swore he could still feel it on his lips.

Din jumped out of bed.

"Shit."

Then a wedding. You walked to him, under that beautiful pink tree as you smiled so sweetly. There, you have been pronounced his wife and he, your husband.

He felt happiness was over him, then a sense of dread, pain.

He left you.

He forgot you.

When the kid went to you, you looked so sad. Now, he knew why.

He forgot you.

He quickly grabbed the child and ran to his ship.

Hopping in, he had a clear destination.

"I know! I don't know how I can forget her!" he replied to his son who looked very disappointed at their father.

Soon, they arrived to Boba's palace.

"Can you find her?" he asked Grogu as the child began running. Well, running for him was like ten steps for Din.

"Oh." he heard your voice as the kid entered a room. "Hi, Love." Din arrived just as you picked him up. The door closing behind him as he looked at you.

You looked sad still and now he knew why.

"I remember." he simply said as you lifted the child to your face and kissed him, you looked at Din.

"What do you remember?"

"You. I remember you, Riduur. Everything. I hit my head, and I'm so sorry for forgetting you." just as he spoke, Grogue grabbed your necklace under your shirt and pulled it out. It was his sigil.

A clan of three.

"I'm not angry, Din. Is it true that you remember or are you just saying it?" Din walked closer to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"The day I kissed you for the first time you smelled like cinnamon. On our wedding, you received the sigil and became my wife. My Riduur, I don't know how I could ever forget you. I'm sorry."

You put the kid down on your bed before lifting your hand, putting it right below his helmet, slowly pushing it up and he let you.

Soon, you came face to face with your husband.

His helmet in your hands, his hands found your shoulders and soon, one went to the back of your neck.

"What did I tell you when you asked me to marry you?" the question caught him a bit off guard but soon he smiled, and he looked into your eyes.

"You made me promise to remove my helmet and kiss you more often. You said you enjoyed my kisses so much, that if you were to marry me, I'd need to give you more kisses." you nodded and smiled.

"So?"

"So?" Din looked at you, confused.

"Kiss me then." and he did. His hand pulled you close as you dropped his helmet on the floor, letting your hand roam his hair and shoulders. "I missed you."

"I'll never forget you again, My Love. I promise." he said as he looked into your eyes.

Din has made many promises during your marriage, and one thing about a Mandalorian is that they always keep their promises.

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #Mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x fem reader #the mandalorian season 3 #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines

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leviathans-watching · 2 years

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i saw something like playing truth or dare and having to kiss the prettiest person in the room and thought you’d do this great with the om boys! thank you if you end up accepting this request!!

"kiss the prettiest person in the room" with the older brothers

includes: lucifer, mammon, levi x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1k | rated t | m.list | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

a/n: okay this was super fun to write omg i hope you enjoy. my inbos is open to chat, req, or leave feedback, so come say hi!!

please reblog 0-0

diavolo is holding another sleepover, and you’re all crammed into one of his living rooms, sitting in a rough circle, with some on the couches, some in chairs, and some on the floor

you're on one of the smaller couches, sharing it with solomon and when the sorcerer gets this glint in his eyes you know he had something up his sleeve

“let’s play truth or dare,” he suggests, and though you suspect the game will devolve into chaos, many of the brothers are quickly on board

the game goes a few rounds before solomon calls on you. “mc, truth or dare?”

you balk; the dare will no doubt be something intense and possibly humiliating, but choosing truth would probably be much worse. “dare,” you say, as confidently as you can

solomon grins wickedly. “kiss the prettiest person in this room.”

you gape at him even as various protests are raised around the room.

“no, mc does it or gets punished for chickening out,” solomon insists, and you recall the punishment, which is to buy a dinner next time you’re all out, something your poor wallet really can’t handle.

“i’ll do it,” you say, and a hush falls over the room as they all wait for you to pick.

lucifer watches you look between him and his brothers, curiosity burning in his chest. he wants to say that you don’t have to do this, to make solomon choose something else - he should say that, but there's a deep part of him that needs to know how this will end.

you bite your lip, worrying it between your teeth and he wishes he were a better man.

lucifer watches with rapt anticipation as you stand, walking in his direction. but diavolo and simeon sit on either side, both likely candidates.

“u-um,” you say, coming to a stop in front of him! “may i?”

at any other point in time he’d be smooth, suave, but surprise has struck him dumb and he can only nod. you lean down, carefully moving closer, and lucifer knows he should shut his eyes but he can’t, enraptured by the sight of you.

the kiss is chaste and brief, nothing to write him about, but lucifer knows it’ll haunt him at night.

cheers erupt from around him as you pull back, likely embarrassed, and just look at him for a moment.

perhaps lucifer should be offended that you think he’s pretty. a thousand words have been used to describe him over the decades, but to his knowledge pretty was never one of them. but he’s rather touched instead.

you duck your head, returning back to your seat. and lucifer can hardly pay attention to the continuation of the game, too preoccupied with remembering how your breath had fanned his cheek, how your soft heat had surrounded him.

he’ll be damned if that’s his last kiss with you, he resolves, and diavolo nudges him mischievously, no doubt aware of where his thoughts have gone.

mammon can’t help giving you a cocky grin, making a come-hither motion playfully. to his surprise, you actually do, stepping carefully over belphie, who’s on the floor, resting his back on the base of the couch he’s sitting on.

“not how i imagined our first kiss, but i’ll take it,” mammon says, joking to hide his nerves. he still can’t believe that you’d approached him. maybe it was because he was the safe choice.

either way, it felt like a dream come true.

“not how i imagined it either,” you say with a little laugh, and mammon short circuits, because you had imagined it too?

you lean down, pressing your lips to his, and mammon feels like all of his bones settle, like fireworks are acting beneath his skin. all-too-soon you pull away, and he can’t help but follow you before he gets a hold of himself.

catcalls and yells sound from around the room, perhaps some cries of outrage, but mammon can’t bring himself to care, instead focused on the way you still lean over at him, looking down at him with a glint in your eyes.

“nice as that was,” you say lowly, only so he can hear, “and believe me, it was nice, i’d much rather try again when we’re alone.”

a strangled noise escapes mammon and you smile, moving back to your seat like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t just turned him into a new man with a single press of your lips. god, he loves you.

levi deflates when he hears the dare, knowing he’s out of the running. in a room filled with all of them, he’d never get picked. he can’t even bring himself to watch, staring at his lap.

it’s only when you cough slightly that he looks up. you rub the ack of your neck, bashful. “is it alright if i kiss you?”

“m-me?” levi asks, looking behind him as if anyone would be there. of course, there’s no one. you nod.

“i mean, as long as you’re cool with it, yeah.”

“you think i’m the prettiest?” he can’t help but confirm, and you smile a little bit.

“i mean, duh. you don’t give yourself enough credit, you know.”

you’ve got to be pranking him. except, you’re not that mean. so that would make you… serious? oh my god, he’s going to die! you think he’s pretty!

“you can, uh, you can kiss me,” he manages slyly, and you cup his face, hands warm against his jaw. he’s frozen as you lean down, eyes sliding shut. your lips finally touch his after what seems like an eternity of waiting, and levi instantly feels boneless, melting into your gentle, almost reverent touch.

you pull away, and his eyes snap open. levi stares up at you, eyes wide, and you seem to remember yourself, hands falling away from his face embarassedly. he already misses them.

the room is in a clamor but he can only think of you, only watch as you give him a little smile before returning to your seat, unable to meet his eyes for more than a few moments during the rest of the game. not that he’s able to meet yours for any longer.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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The Washington Tales

Request from anon: Could you perhaps write something about how the reader is Spencer’s kid and they don’t like how he always gets up and goes on cases and they’re stuck alone or with a babysitter so they try to make a point by running away and Spencer has to rush home?

Spencer Reid x teen!reader

Summary: Spencer's busy schedule leaves you feeling lonely. You run away, finding company in an old friend.

A/N: Alright if I'm gonna write Spencer I'm writing full on super-nerd-dad Spencer. We all know that this man is a total dork and i'm running with it. Only real ones will understand the title reference.

CW: reader feeling lonely, running away, nerd level is through the roof.

---

Spencer heard his phone ringing insistently behind him. He had already let it go to voicemail twice and the sound of the plastic against the table was beginning to interrupt his concentration. He turned away from the evidence board and moved towards the table to see who needed him so desperately while he was working.

“You better have not given my number out again, Morgan,” Reid said, recalling their past prank war.

“I never use the same prank twice, pretty boy,” Morgan said, not looking up from his files.

When Spencer saw that the number was your school he automatically became concerned. Your teachers were worried that you were beginning to fall behind on your assignments. They wanted to set up a parent conference with him, but the team had been so loaded with cases he simply didn’t have the time. He didn’t even have time for this phone call if he was being honest, but he picked it up anyway.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he said, still in professional mode instead of dad mode from working on the case for so long.

“Dr. Reid,” the lady on the phone started. “We’re calling because your child, (Y/N) Reid, never showed up for school this morning.”

“Pardon?” Spencer said.

“They’re absent from school today,” the lady told him.

“Okay, thank you.” He hung up the phone and went to dial Garcia.

“What is it?” Morgan asked.

“(Y/N) didn’t go to school this morning,” Spencer told him. Morgan gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve reached the FBI’s office of supreme genius, how may I serve you today?” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, can you track (Y/N)’s phone. They didn’t show up to school today,” he said.

“Sure thing… annnddddd they’re at your apartment.”

Spencer sighed. “Thanks, Garcia.” As soon as he hung up he called you, but you didn’t answer. He tried again, just for good measure, but he didn’t bother leaving a voicemail. There was a real possibility that you hadn't charged your phone- another bad habit you had fallen into recently. Instead, he texted the babysitter- you were old enough that you didn’t need one, but he hired a nice lady to check on you in the evenings just to make sure you were okay. He let her know the situation and to tell you to call him when she saw you that night.

---

When Spencer’s phone rang again he was still looking at the evidence board, trying to piece together the case. He averted his view from the crime scene photos to answer the call.

“Dr. Reid,” the babysitter sounded panicked and upset. “Dr. Reid, they’re gone.”

“Wait, slow down,” Spencer said as calmly as possible. “What happened?”

Now it sounded like the babysitter was close to tears. “I came into the apartment to check on (Y/N) and they aren’t here! They just left a note that says “Farewell, I am gone.” signed with their initials. Dr. Reid, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer felt a strange feeling bubble in his gut- a note could mean a million things. “It’s not your fault,” he told the babysitter. “But I need you to send me a picture of the note, okay? As clear as you can possibly get it.”

“Oh-okay.” She sniffled and Spencer heard rustling on the other end of the line before receiving the picture.

“Thank you,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Go home and get some rest.” He hung up before she could reply.

He didn’t want to tell the babysitter that a note usually meant one of two things- either you’d been kidnapped and coerced into writing something to make it seem as if you had run away, or you had actually run away. And it didn’t take an expert in handwriting analysis to see that the note you had left was freely written.

“Damn it.” He wanted to say some other words as well, but Hotch had just walked into the room.

“What is it, Reid?” he asked.

“(Y/N) ran away.” Spencer looked desperately between his phone and the evidence board. Now, instead of his brain being too preoccupied with work all he could feel was worry. Anything could have happened to you and you had obviously been gone since this morning, but there was a chance that you had fled after the babysitter left you alone the previous night. You could have been anywhere.

“Go home,” Hotch told him. He tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs. “It’s about a seven hour drive back to Virginia. Get Garcia to help you.”

Reid thanked his boss and got into the car. He had never been one to speed, much less speed and talk on the phone at the same time, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Garcia looked through everything- people you could have called, public transportation you might have taken, even going as far as to hack into the security cameras at your favorite bookstore- but the only trace you had left was that you had pulled some money from an ATM.

Spencer drove straight to the apartment and looked around for any clues you may have left about where you were going, but there was nothing except the note. You hadn’t packed a bag and the amount of money you had wasn’t enough to sustain you for very long. You couldn’t have gone far. It wasn’t like his mom could take care of you and surely if you had showed up at one of your friend’s houses their parents would have called him. His brain was working at a million miles an hour, trying to think of where you could have possibly gone.

“Reid,” Garcia said, sympathetically, “I know I’m not a parent and I’m not a profiler, but have you ever stopped to think about why (Y/N) ran away?”

“I-” He paused, thinking about your behavior in the past few months. It wasn’t just the trouble at school- it was also not wanting to watch TV with him when he was home or even making dinner for yourself and not waiting until he got home to eat together. The team had been so busy that he had pulled away… and you had pulled away from him too. “I’ll call you back, Garcia.”

Spencer ran out of the apartment and back down to the car. He knew where you had gone. It was where he would have gone too.

---

You weren’t sure if there was a place you loved more than the Library of Congress. The building itself was glorious; looking as though someone had carved it all out of one massive slab of stone. The columns stretched tall and strong, supporting arches painted like tiles. Grand floors were patterned with shapes that fit together like a mosaic.

But it was the soul of the building that you really loved- being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of books that each had something to teach or a story to tell. You remembered coming there with your dad when you were younger and him telling you that as long as you had a good book in your hand you would never be alone. So of course when you felt most alone you went somewhere full of things that couldn’t possibly make you feel lonely- but the your heart still felt as empty as the apartment. At the moment, your only friend was fiction.

“Oh, (Y/N) dear, we’re closed!” One of the librarians rushed up to you. She had known you since Spencer began taking you there as a baby. She had watched your taste in literature change from picture books all the way to helping you find a copy of a research paper you had wanted to write about for school.

You looked down a bit sadly. “I know visiting hours are up, but can I stay just a bit longer? My dad is away on a case again and I could use some company.”

The librarian smiled at you, the lines in her face far more prominent than they had been when you were little. “Of course. As long as you put your favorite friend away when you’re done.” She winked at you behind wire framed glasses and walked in the opposite direction.

The library was large enough to get lost in, but you knew where you were going like the back of your hand- It was the same book that you pulled out every time your dad was away. Not wanting to go all the way to the reading room, you sat down on the floor before carefully flipping through the book’s pages and beginning to read through something you so badly wished was being read to you instead.

---

Footsteps echoed through the library, coming slowly up behind you. You expected it to be a security guard, telling you that it was time for the library to rest for the night, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the echoing stopped and you heard your dad’s voice.

“Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon/Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.”

You turned to look at your dad. He was still wearing his work attire, his hair a tangled mess of brown curls, but even in the dim light of the library you could see the small smile on his face.

You scowled. “Though there was nowhere one so busy as he/ He was less busy than he seemed to be,” you retored and went back to your reading.

You heard Spencer sigh before walking up and taking a seat beside you. “I’m not busy now.”

“It’s a bit late for that, dad.” You didn’t take your eyes off the pages, but you were no longer reading the words, tears building up in your eyes.

Spencer gently pulled the book from your hands and closed it. “You know,” he started. “When you were little, Garcia bought you a box set of Dr. Seuss books. I thought you would be so excited to see all the fun pictures and colors, but every time you were given a choice, you always asked me to read you this.” He held up the book- The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. "Please tell me what's going on," he said quietly.

You turned away, not wanting your dad to see that you were crying. “I miss you, dad. You’re never around anymore and I get really lonely without you.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged a little helplessly. “You catch criminals and save people. I can’t just ask you to stay home because I’m sad you’re gone.” It came out a bit sarcastic, but the tears were still real.

Spencer took a handkerchief from his pocket and softly dried your eyes before offering the book back to you. “Page 549, paragraph 2, last sentence.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and turned to the page, tracing your finger down to the location he had told you. As you read the line in your head, your dad said it outloud:

“Amour vincit omnia: Love conquers all.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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therealcocoshady · 3 months

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Recovery - Chapter 14

Eminem x FemReader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Em and Reader fly to NYC for a day.

Tags : Little bit of angst, FLUFF 🥰

CW : -

In the following week, you and Marshall hung out together as much as possible, whether it was to watch a movie, have dinner or simply hang out at the studio with everyone. Except for the two of you, as well as Talia and Jamal, no one knew about your argument. The others simply figured out that you were busy with uni, which was great, because you didn’t really want anyone to be involved in any type of drama. Being back as a team was great, and you were elated to have your best friend back. You were also ecstatic to go to New York with him. You had never been there and you couldn’t wait to discover the city. After all, when they visit the US, most people from Europe go to California or New York. If you were completely honest, the reason you had ended up in Michigan in the first place was because of the partnership between your former university in France and MSU, as well as the fact that Detroit was actually a cheaper place to live. And then, you stayed because you fell in love with the place and met amazing people. Ever since you had moved to Detroit, you hadn’t visited a lot of places. You were either on a budget or too busy. So when Marshall offered for you to fly to NYC with him and it matched your schedule, you saw it as an amazing opportunity. Plus, you were going to spend some time, just the two of you… and Paul.

When Marshall told you that Paul was going to be there, you were a bit disappointed. Of course, you understood that it was his role as manager to be there whenever Marshall was going on a work trip or giving interviews, but his presence made you feel a bit uncomfortable. Ever since the pictures of the two of you exiting the party had been published in the press, Paul had made no secret of his disapproval of your presence in Marshall’s life. You got along with everyone else, from beatmakers to sound engineers, but the manager was something else. It seemed like he hated you and it was making you a little sad. Marshall shrugged it off though. The day before, you were in his closet, picking his outfits for the photoshoot when you decided to talk to him about it.

Are you sure that me coming to New York is a great idea ? You asked.

You don’t want to come anymore ? He asked back.

No, of course I do, you said. But is Paul ok with me being there ?

I don’t know. I didn’t ask for his opinion, he shrugged.

He hates me, you sighed.

No, he doesn’t, he chuckled. I mean, it’s Paul, he’s an ass, sometimes. It’ll be fine, though. He’s just going to be there for the interview and then, he’s having meetings of his own. He won’t even be there when we fly back.

So it’ll be just us, then ?

Pretty much. You, me and… well, security, he said.

On the next day, when you boarded the private jet for the flight, Paul was already seated. He greeted you curtly.

Are we sure it’s a good idea for her to be here ? He asked Marshall without so much as a look at you.

Yeah, Marshall replied. I need her opinion on outfits for the shoot and she’s never been to NYC, so it works out pretty well.

Are we working here, or are we turning into a travel agency ? Paul sighed. Seriously, Marshall, we could have worked with a stylist…

Just relax, Marshall shrugged as he rolled his eyes. It’s no big deal.

To you, maybe, Paul groaned. But I swear, if I have to deal with anything she does…

Marshall didn’t even bother replying. He just sighed and sat next to you during the flight, as you both watched a movie on your iPad. Shortly before you landed, Paul decided to talk to Marshall about the day’s events, still ignoring you.

So, the photoshoot will last about two hours and then the interview, he recalled.

Good, Marshall said. This afternoon, I’m taking you to cool places, Y/N. You’re going to like New-York !

Actually, Paul said, I know you wanted your afternoon and evening free, but you’re doing a radio interview in the afternoon…

Are you fucking serious ? Marshall groaned. That wasn’t planned. I’m not doing this. I made plans with Y/N already.

Well, here’s the thing… They sort of announced your presence on the show already… But Y/N doesn’t mind. Do you, Y/N ?

So, now, he was talking to you when he was trying to convince Marshall ? Great. It took you a lot of effort not to give him the biggest side-eye.

It’s fine, you said with a forced smile. I’ll enjoy the city on my own.

Are you sure ? Marshall asked.

Of course. You have work to do, it’s ok, you replied.

Plus, it’s probably for the best, Paul said. If the two of you were to be spotted together…

Whatever, Marshall said as he rolled his eyes.

You landed and got to the suite the magazine rented for the day, where the photoshoot and interview would take place. As you unpacked and organized the outfits that Marshall would wear, you heard him talk to Paul.

So, are we taking questions about your relationship with Y/N for the interview ? Paul asked.

You already know the answer, Marshall sighed.

I’m merely asking to protect you, Marshall, the manager explained. It’s my job.

I know, Marshall said. But my personal life, my daughters, my ex, my friends outside of the industry and any rumored girlfriends… It’s not something I’m discussing. We’ve decided on that nearly fifteen years ago, I don’t see why it would change now.

Because the two of you were spotted together, Paul recalled, that’s why. You should know this could change everything. And as manager, I have to remind you that it’s all about the control we have over that type of thing. Plus, obviously, with everything that happened recently… people are certainly wondering.

Why the fuck would they even care ? Marshall groaned. I make music, I’m not a fucking reality show celebrity…

Fine, the manager said. Lucky for us, things seem to be dying down. Let’s hope this stays this way. No offense, but I have enough work as it is.

Once they were done with their conversation, Marshall came to find you and took a look at the outfit you had chosen in his wardrobe.

So, what did I pack with utter blind trust in you ? He mused.

Three different outfits. One is more typical of what you usually wear for photoshoots, the two others are a little more “you”, you explained.

Meaning ?

Meaning you’ll look like Eminem in at least one of them, don’t worry, you said with a wink. Do you trust me ?

I guess, he chuckled. They send us the pictures before publication beforehand anyway, so I’ll pick the pictures I like the most.

I wonder if this is why you never smile on pictures, you chuckled. Is it because you ban them from publication ?

No it’s not, he said with a grin. I mean, people can catch me laughing on camera and stuff, I don’t really mind that much. But most of the time, it’s because I’m not really at ease. And I’m not really myself either, you know ?

Not really yourself ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Well, if my daughters take a picture of me, I might smile, but if it’s someone I don’t know and it’s for the media… They’re taking Eminem’s picture. Not mine, he shrugged.

Well, the two other outfits I have planned are definitely “Marshall-coded”, you chuckled. Is that ok ?

I guess, he said with a smile.

The team from the magazine started to arrive and set up things for the shoot. You let him change into the first outfit. It was a simple, classic one. Black jeans, black sneakers, white tee-shirt and Saint Laurent jacket, accesorized with silver chains that were on the daintier side, as well as a ring, a nice statement Rolex watch and a bracelet. When he came out of the room, he looked a bit perplexed.

You didn’t pack any hat, he pointed out. For any of the outfits.

That’s intentional, you said with a smirk.

Why ? He asked.

Because you’re getting the picture taken. The point is for people to see your face, you chuckled.

What if I don’t like my face ? He chuckled.

Well that’s your opinion, but your opinion is wrong, you replied with a smile. I like your face.

Do you ? He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows.

Of course.

His look softened a bit and he kissed your cheek before sitting in the makeup chair. It seemed like he knew everyone already. From what you gathered, he was used to working with this particular team of people whenever he was doing something with this magazine. He politely greeted everyone and even made small talk, though he seemed more distant. You could tell he was putting on a persona, but probably wasn’t too comfortable. You chuckled as you saw his annoyed look when the makeup artist applied makeup on his face. He noticed and instantly flipped you with a smirk. You silently watched from the side as he went in front of the camera and posed as the photographer directed. He looked good, for sure, but the whole thing felt unnatural. The person in front of you wasn’t Marshall. It was Eminem. And although it was his job, you weren’t sure you liked it too much. After all, you had never been an Eminem fan. The reason you appreciated the music was the man behind it, the real person you had befriended. You shook your head and smiled as he posed in what you assumed to be a stereotypical rapper fashion : not a smile in sight, dark expression, serious demeanor… When the set was done, he walked to you.

I see you making fun of me, lady, he smirked.

I would never, you said innocently.

What’s wrong ? He asked.

Who said there was anything wrong ? You mused.

I know your pretty little face, he chuckled. You can’t lie to me.

Mmmh… I’m just not used to seeing you like this, you said with a smile. But, yeah, you definitely look like a rapper. Almost like it’s your job !

Come on and tell me what outfit is next, he said as he grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

The second outfit consisted of the same jeans, different sneakers, another white tee-shirt (slightly less fitted) as well as his Detroit Lions jacket, with no accessories, except for a watch. You thought it would be cool for the outfit to make a nod to his passion for football. In the months you’d known him, he’d spent countless hours trying to convince you to learn more about football, though you always replied that “actual” football was soccer and that the US version didn’t make any sense. It was more simple, more him.

I like it, he said as soon as he got dressed.

I like it too. The blue really brings out your eyes, you replied. Especially when you’re not wearing a hat.

You really hate my hats, don’t you ? He sighed.

I like them, you shrugged. I just like being able to look at your face…

The comment made him smile and he gently stroked your cheek.

You’re the boss, after all, he said with a wink.

Am I ? You asked cockily. I like the idea of being the boss…

Only for today, he replied as he rolled his eyes. And only for the outfits.

Too bad I can’t voice my opinion on makeup, you whispered.

What’s with the makeup ?

It’s too much, you chuckled. It’s going to clog your pores… You can’t see your actual skin underneath those layers !

Wait until they airbrush my face on Photoshop, he grinned.

That would be a heinous crime, you said with a smile.

Gotta hide those lines, he said with a wink.

I like the lines, you said softly as you stroked his cheeks, trying to get rid of some excess of makeup that made his skin look a bit cakey.

Do you ? He asked.

Yup, you whispered. I really do. They’re part of your face.

He chuckled and planted a kiss on your cheek before going back on set. For the whole duration, you looked at each other and you tried to get him to relax by making faces whenever the crew wasn’t looking. His look had softened a bit, although he still looked serious. You believed in miracles, but it would probably take a little more than that to get him to smile. You were leaning against the wall, watching him work, when the makeup artist settled next to you.

Hard not to stare, right ? She chuckled.

Mmmh ? You asked, as you weren’t really paying attention.

I’m just saying… The man is really attractive, she said. I’m Jenny, by the way. I’m in charge of makeup.

Hi, you said. I’m Y/N. I’m in charge of the clothes.

Are you his personal stylist ?

Just filling in, you chuckled.

Anyway, you did a great job, she complimented. He looks really good.

Thanks, you said, your eyes still focusing on Marshall.

You’re going to think I’m crazy but… You look just like that girl in the magazines. The one he was spotted with, a few weeks earlier, Jenny said.

Do I ? You asked as you feigned surprise. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit, you added with a grin.

Anyway… She’s a pretty lucky girl… I mean, I’d definitely sell a kidney to be in her place.

You chuckled softly. You were indeed lucky. Sure, there was little truth to the story in the news, but you were definitely in luck to have Marshall in your life. However, you found yourself to be a little frustrated : ever since the two of you had rekindled your friendship, neither of you had made a move. Sure, you hugged all the time, sometimes held hands, and were overall really close. But he hadn’t mentioned the two of you “hanging out more” again. When you weren’t speaking, you mostly missed the friendship, but now that he was back in your life, you weren’t really against the idea of his kisses and his hands all over your body. In fact, you were all for it, and the memories kept you warm at night.

When he was done with the second set of pictures, he went to change and your heart skipped a beat when he emerged from the room. This final outfit was the most basic, but it was your favorite. He was wearing black jeans that were a bit washed out and a gray hoodie, matching shoes and no accessories. You had chosen these clothes because these were the exact ones he wore the day you met. You remembered thinking he was attractive when you first saw him, but somehow, he seemed even hotter. Everything in this outfit screamed “Marshall” in your opinion : no brands, comfy, nothing flashy, but still fitting to his style. The gray color definitely brought out his nice complexion and his eyes. He smiled as soon as he spotted you.

What do you think, boss ? He asked.

You look great, you said as you couldn’t smile from ear to ear. That’s my favorite look, right here.

Is it ? He mused.

Yeah… Definitely. Also, that’s what you were wearing when we met, you added.

Really ? He said with a smile. And you like it ?

Definitely ! You replied. I think it’s the look I associate with you the most. Simple and understated, but the sneakers give an edge.

I don’t remember my outfit of that day, he chuckled. But I do remember yours. I thought you were really pretty.

You chuckled and blushed lightly, not really knowing what to say. You were nervously playing with your sobriety pendant when you had an idea. You took it off and placed it on him.

I think the outfit is complete now, you said with a smile.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on your cheek before going back on set. Jenny touched up his makeup before going back to you while he posed.

You’ve done such a great job with these outfits, she said. You know, I’ve worked with him a few times, but I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him this relaxed.

I’m glad, you said softly.

How is it to work for him ? She asked. Must be pretty exciting…

It is, you chuckled. Not to make you jealous, but he is pretty great.

God, you’re lucky, she said dreamily.

You glanced at Marshall and noticed he was looking at you. The look on his face was soft and he was playing with the pendant in between takes. You couldn’t help but smile at him. That’s when it hit you : you were in love with Marshall Mathers. You would have expected such a realization to make you panic, but it was the contrary. You were almost overcome with joy and emotion. After all, you were lucky enough to have fallen in love with someone who had become your best friend in the past few months. And you knew for a fact that he found you attractive. In that instant, you knew you had to tell him. Oddly enough, you were more confident than ever. Last time, he had been the one to make a move by suggesting that you hung out more, so maybe the universe was letting you know that it was your turn.

The shoot ended and Marshall walked up to you as the crew was packing their stuff, except for the journalist who was patiently waiting for the interview. You both went to the room so that you could start packing the clothes and he could get changed. He sat on the bed as he watched you pack.

You did a great job with the outfits, he said.

Really ? You asked with the biggest smile.

Yeah. I like them. I felt confident, he chuckled. Doesn’t happen too much. Especially when I’m not wearing anything on my head.

I like it better that way, you said softly.

What’s wrong with Kangol ?

Nothing. Come to think of it, they might be the best thing you’ve worn on your head, except for beanies…, you said. I liked your beanie era. But the durags…?

I know, he chuckled. But, back then, it was pretty stylish…

You’ll have to find someone else to convince, Mathers, you grinned. Aren’t you changing clothes ?

Nope. Apparently, I look good in those, so…

You giggled and let him take off the makeup before doing the interview. You thought about the best way to confess your feelings to him. You didn’t want to be cheesy and corny and overdo it, but you wanted to do it in the right conditions. You figured you’d wait for a moment when the two of you would be alone. When the interview was done, people vacated the room and you were left with Paul and Marshall. The plan was to have something to eat delivered in the suite for lunch and then, they would head to the radio station while you went out shopping, waiting for Marshall to be done.

You did a good job with the interview, Marshall, Paul said. Especially dodging the questions on your personal life.

Let’s hope it goes just as well on the radio show this afternoon, Marshall shrugged. It’s going to be live, so I can’t really make a mistake on this one.

I already laid down the ground rules, Paul explained. I think you should be fine. So, I arranged what you asked for, for tonight and afterwards, you have your flight back to Detroit at 10 PM..

Are we staying that late ? You asked.

Yup, Marshall said with a grin. I have plans for us ! I think you’re going to like it.

Any clues ?

It’s not funny if you guess before we get there, he chuckled.

Now, you were definitely curious. You ate and everyone went on their way. You had a couple of hours to spare before meeting with Marshall back at the suite, so you decided to go visit the city, maybe find a couple of cool libraries and cafés. You were ecstatic to discover NYC. You had grown up watching Friends and you had always dreamed of visiting the city one day, maybe even living there. You were like the typical tourist : you took pictures of every cool building or anything remotely interesting that you saw. You also posted a few pictures on your Instagram page, that you had made public again since the rumors had seemed to die down. You would have loved to have Marshall with you, but you decided to make the most of it anyway : if he were around, you’d have security following you and it would be a whole thing. At least, if you were alone, you could just explore in peace. In true bookworm fashion, you entered the first cool-looking bookstore you saw and ended up spending way too much time there, as well as a big chunk of your paycheck. Obviously, you were a sucker for books, in whatever kind or form they came in. You didn’t even see the time, only being reminded of it when your phone buzzed. It was Marshall calling to tell you he was running a little late because of an impromptu selfie-taking session with fans waiting outside of the radio station. You told him it was ok, as you had lost track of time and weren’t too close to the hotel.

I’ll pick you up with the car, he said. Don’t move, just text me the address of the bookstore.

It was a blessing in disguise : you had been so reckless in your spending on books that there was no way you’d be able to carry that to the hotel. When you got to the car, your arms were full of books, almost causing you to stumble.

Thank God we’re not flying commercial, Marshall grinned. Otherwise, you’d spend a fortune on checked luggage.

I may have gotten a little carried away, you confessed. But this library was so cool ! There were pride flags everywhere, and they have such a great selection on intersectional feminism, like this book on bi-representation in TV shows, as well as this one on body positive issues, and there’s another one on gender identity in the era of social media…

You went on to blab about your purchases for a minute, causing him to chuckle.

Sorry, you said as you realized you probably got carried away. That’s not really interesting…

You’re so adorable, he said with a smile. You’re such a cute social justice warrior ! Stevie would love you !

Your youngest ? You asked.

Yeah. She’s really interested in stuff about gender identity. Came out as genderfluid a while ago, actually, he explained.

Oh. Are “she/her” her preferred pronouns ?

Anything works, he said. To be honest, it’s making life a little easier for me. I think I'd be stupid enough to make mistakes, so…

It’s great that you’re supportive, you said with a smile.

Not gonna lie, I didn’t even know what non-binary and genderfluid meant before she came out to me, he chuckled. But I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to do so. I love her so much, you know ?

This comment made your heart melt. He was definitely too sweet when it came to talking about his kids.

Well, you can definitely recommend these books to her, then, you said with a smile. You’d score some feminist points with her.

I could use that, he chuckled.

You’re also welcome to borrow them from me, if you want to do some light reading, you added.

That’s light reading ? He scoffed. Yeah… Thanks but uh… I’ll stick to comic books ! I’m not a big reader, you know ? But if I ever have to fill in a gap in a wall or prop up some furniture, I’ll definitely borrow them !

You chuckled and nudged him with your elbow.

Anyway, I think my girls would really love you ! He said.

You’ll have to introduce us, then ! So, where are you taking me ? You asked.

Bergdorf Goodman, he said with a smile. We’re going shopping !

Aren’t you afraid you’ll be disturbed by fans if you’re in such a public place ?

We’re getting the VIP suite, he said with a grin. No one will bother us.

You opened your mouth but no sound came out. When you thought about living your TV show fantasy in NYC, that wasn’t what came to mind… But you liked shopping and looking at nice clothes as much as the next girl, so you were all for it. When you went to the VIP shopping suite, you were like a kid in a Candy shop. You were offered drinks and a sales assistant came to see Marshall immediately.

What do you need today, Mr Mathers ? She asked in a sweet voice.

Ask the boss, he chuckled. She’s the one in charge of my closet.

Really ? You asked giddily.

You did a good job styling me for the photoshoot, he said. Plus, last time I checked, our deal still stands, so you might as well choose what I buy, if you’re going to raid my closet…

You squealed and chose the pieces you wanted the sales assistant to buy from the iPad she presented you with. You were thoroughly enjoying this shopping experience. It was unlike any other. Even when you went shopping with Cassie, it hadn’t been that fancy. Marshall tried on a few things and picked the ones he liked the most. You tried to get him to wear a little more color, but he was a bit reluctant. He also ended up picking a few pairs of sneakers to add to his collection.

Now, my turn ? He asked with a devilish grin.

What do you mean your turn ? You chuckled.

You pushed me out of my comfort zone, I’m doing the same, he said with a smirk. I’m getting you to try on some stuff.

Oh really ? You asked. Are you turning me into a rapper ?

I could, he said with a laugh. You like my closet. You’d love it.

I’m a girl, you pointed out.

So ? Gender is a social construct and clothing has no gender, he grinned. What ? Am I too feminist for you now ?

Don’t get cocky, Mathers, you joked. I’d like to see you in a dress…

Well, I’ll have you know that I have worn a few in some music videos, he said with a smirk. I played my own characters.

You did ?! You exclamed.

He used the iPad to get on YouTube and show you excerpts from music videos. He was, indeed, wearing dresses, as well as wigs and makeup. You were a bit shocked.

You’re basically a drag queen, you shrieked. That’s so awesome !!! You need to do that again !

I don’t know about that, he chuckled. I got over it, you know ? Plus, with the beard, it’s just not the same.

I’d like to see that, though, you grinned. Look at you, deconstructing gender !

He chuckled and looked proud of himself. It seemed to remind him of fun times. However, he did not lose track of his goal and picked items for you to try on. A far cry from your usual style, definitely more street-wear. On the rack that the sales assistant brought for you, you spotted a jacket similar to the one you had borrowed from him, that you loved so much.

They have a women’s version, he said with a smile. I thought you might enjoy it.

Oh my God, you said. It’s so beautiful !!!

Try it on, he said.

It fit like a glove. It was absolutely gorgeous. The fit was better than the one you got from him, seeing as it was tailored for a woman’s body.

What do you think ? He asked.

I love it, you shrieked.

Good, he chuckled. Now, try the rest.

He had picked out some great clothes, namely jeans, hoodies, chains and, of course, Jordan sneakers. He had you dressed from head to toe in a typical Eminem outfit. You were feeling a bit ridiculous, but you did enjoy the jacket and the sneakers.

I’m getting those for you, he said.

You’re not, you replied as you shook your head.

Come on ! Let me have fun ! He pleaded.

It’s too much, Marshall.

Please ? He asked. That’ll be your salary. If I’d hired a stylist, I would have paid them.

You already got me on the flight, you pointed out.

Whatever. I’m getting these for you or you’re going back to Michigan on foot, carrying those huge books by yourself, he said.

Fine. Thank you. You’re the best, you said before hugging him.

You ended up spending quite a bit of time in the store, but you had a lot of fun. You also ended up treating yourself to a nice handbag, to congratulate yourself for remaining sober for a whole month. It was fancy and definitely one of your biggest purchases ever, but you felt like it and could easily afford it, since you were saving a lot of money on rent thanks to Talia and Jamal’s refusal to let you contribute. When you exited the store, your chauffeur was waiting to take you to another destination.

Where are we going now ? You asked giddily, having the time of your life.

I would have loved to take you to some touristic places, but I’m afraid it’s going to be complicated if we don’t want to be bothered, he said. But I’m taking you to a really iconic monument in New York.

After a bit of driving, the car parked in front of the Empire State Building. You were a bit flabbergasted.

Isn’t this place supposed to be highly touristic ? You wondered. Plus, it’s nighttime, so it’s probably closed…

Well, yeah… Except that I know someone who knows someone and I got us dinner in a private room on the highest floor, he chuckled. That way, you will be able to admire the city !

You immediately jumped in his arms.

You’re the best. Seriously, you have no idea… I always dreamed of coming here, when I was a teen and completely broke ! I could cry right now, you said.

Don’t, he chuckled. Let’s go !

You entered the building, escorted by security, and took the elevator to the highest floor. A nice table was waiting for the two of you. The view was absolutely mesmerizing. The city lights were glowing. It was like a dream come true. You jumped in his arms and he made you twirl. You couldn’t believe you were feeling like such a princess. If it wasn’t for the presence of waiters and security, you would have made your move and kissed him. Instead, you just hugged him.

You’re the greatest, you whispered.

Happy one month sober, he chuckled. I’m so proud of you, Y/N.

A waitress came and handed you flutes. You were about to refuse when Marshall stopped you.

It’s sparkling non-alcoholic wine. And it’s from France, he explained with a smile. Shortly after we met, I remember you telling me you missed French wines, so…

You’re amazing !

He kissed your temple and you toasted to your sobriety. In that moment, you felt good in his presence, and you couldn’t help but think that this man was single-handedly ruining any other men’s chances of ever impressing you. He was just the best at making gestures. You also had a nice dinner and enjoyed the view a little more before going to the airport and boarding the plane. You were both tired on the flight home, and you were about to fall asleep in your seats when the aircraft began shaking. Marshall immediately took you in his arms and you held each other as the captain informed you that it was turbulence. You knew they might not be a big deal, according to the science behind it, but your brain was freaking out. Neither Marshall nor the security people seemed too relaxed either, mind you. Eventually, though, you landed and you couldn’t be happier to be home. As you exited the plane, Marshall got a phone call and you waited for him on the tarmac. He came to you about ten minutes later.

Is there anything wrong ? You asked as you were wondering why someone would call at almost midnight.

Oh, that was nothing, he said. It was Nicole, she just got off her shift.

Nicole…? You asked, not really knowing who he was referring to.

Yeah, the nurse you met in the ER the other day, he said. I mean, you probably don’t remember, with the painkillers and stuff…

No, no, I know who she is, you said, still not really getting it. Is there anything wrong ?

No, nothing, he said. She was calling me to confirm our date night tomorrow.

You looked at him in shock. At that moment, you felt something break inside of you. The plane might not have crashed to the ground, but your heart definitely had.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

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youthereader · 7 months

Text

Near Zero part 3.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1.9k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; explicit smut, barebacking, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, age gap (10+ years), angst, infidelity, period-typical sexism

A/N: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. Thank you to @indulgence-be-thy-name for being the best cheerleader. Not a lot of plot this time but I thought the first time smut deserved its own chapter. Enjoy! 🖤

masterlist

The shame you feel is like a nausea that soon morphs into a cold rage. So cold that it burns you, making you isolate yourself all over again, despite the mixer being a genuinely enjoyable experience.

You barely wave when you see Mary one morning two days after Dr. Oppenheimer looked straight through you. You physically recoil at the idea of speaking to her or Barb for any length of time, shaking your head as you speed down the street with your pocketbook.

Luckily, no-one speaks to you, so you have no reason to speak, either. You wear your most non-descript clothes, not wanting any attention whatsoever. To be invisible on purpose is better than trying to be seen only to be rejected like the other day. He had made you feel important, and you, the idiot that you are, believed him.

If you thought about it long enough – and you have tried not to for years – you are lonely. You’re so lonely that it makes a unique kind of grief. You don’t recall a time when you didn’t feel like this. You can’t let yourself dwell too much, or you’ll combust. And you need to keep going. You need to work, to have a purpose. You can’t go home. It doesn’t feel like there’s a home to go to anymore.

Your guts churn every time you think Oppenheimer is about to walk into the laboratory. You consider faking illness, but you’re weak enough as it is to the men in your group; to give them more ammunition would be a mistake.

The cold rage stays there, and the work cannot get rid of it. You wait for your mind to clear, but it remains the same, equations forever swimming around, along with dark thoughts you would never name aloud. You stay at your desk many hours after everyone else calls it a day, and you walk home alone at night.

For three nights, it’s the same. The fourth night, you write basic chemistry equations to solve, ones you remember from high school, the movements so practiced that you don’t pause for minutes at a time, your hand hurting from how hard you grip the chalk. Your writing becomes less legible with effort, and you regret so many things when you step back, the board full. You should start again, write more neatly, empty the ashtray. You should leave, you should take a big sleeping pill and lie down.

You hear footsteps and know who it is before you turn around, your stomach dropping, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I hoped it wasn’t you.”

“No-one else here but me,” you reply, gaze slipping up to Oppenheimer’s face, and you swallow. “It’s always me.”

“The light was on, I-”

“Whatever you have to say,” you interrupt, turning back to the board, picking up the eraser. “I’m sure it can wait for tomorrow when you have a larger audience.”

You begin clearing it all away, hating that he saw your equations, your sloppy hand. You put the eraser back with an audible clatter. Your carelessness leads to it falling to the floor, but you don’t pick it up. You don’t care about whatever he has to say, either. It’s all just noise.

“Okay.”

He sounds defeated, and you shoot him a glance. It’s nighttime and he’s wearing his hat, like some kind of costume. He’s a phantom, prowling around his town. Of course he walked straight past you the other day, he has so much more to do.

“Why are you here?” you ask before you lose your nerve.

Your eyes lock and your heartbeat ricochets. He takes a couple steps, but you continue:

“I mean, you’re married, right?”

You haven’t met Kitty, but everyone knows her. You can’t avoid her if you know Dr. Oppenheimer. Mentioning her might be a mistake, but all of this already feels dangerous, bordering on idiotic. He could expel you, find some way to snuff out your career, too. You’re reckless, and you never have been before, so it’s hard to know when to stop.

“Yes,” he replies. His jaw tenses. “I came here because I was out walking. Again.”

“And you happened to see the light and decided to come up?” you throw back. It comes out as a petulant sneer.

“I was looking for you. I didn’t want to stay away anymore.”

Your face flushes. A week ago, his words would have made you swoon. Now, you grit your teeth.

“So you charm me, then you ignore me. And now you expect me to believe that you’re suffering some kind of… some kind of burden because of me? That you were sparing me?”

“We work together,” he says, and his tone is completely different.

He’s speaking to you like he does the men he argues with. You’ve seen it from a distance many times before. Even if you hadn’t, you’d heard stories.

“We… we work together?” you repeat, and you half-laugh. “So if I was someone’s wife, that would be preferable?”

“Yes, it would,” he says, and he watches you scoff.

His eyes never leave you. He’s determined.

“But you can’t say away?” you say.

“No.”

He takes the few last strides to meet you and reaches for your waist, hands catching you to bring you into a swift kiss. You close your eyes on impact, gasping, and he doesn’t let go, moving you both towards the desk. Your legs hit the wood and you take hold of his face, fingers splayed on his high cheekbones, opening your mouth to him as he conquers you with his hot tongue. You moan, the sound slipping out as his thigh presses between your thighs, pinning you.

He suddenly pulls back with a smack of your lips, his eyes searching you, his hands cradling your face like yours are his.

“You’re not seeing Richard?”

Your mind reels, his breath on your lips as you pant, screwing up your face in confusion.

“Feynman?” you say, and he nods. “That’s absurd-”

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m not,” you insist. You blink. “Were you jealous?”

You remember the mixer and how Feynman had joked around with you. He spent a lot of the night near you, but he was never friendly in that sense. You didn’t know if he was spoken for, but he never treated you like a potential target.

You are half-joking but see Oppenheimer’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“You were jealous…”

The thought of him being possessive of you is strange, and somehow flattering. It’s entirely foreign.

“You ignored me because you thought something happened,” you muse, and it doesn’t stop feeling bizarre. “You were that upset?”

“It was cowardly of me,” he says. “And it’s silly.”

“It’s so silly,” you agree, and he kisses you again.

He groans when you suck on his tongue, renewing your courage. The desire ignites in your belly, pulling you deeper down. His touch, beginning to show a kind of desperation, makes you wet, and you moan against his lips, feeling him press into the apex of your thighs.

He pushes you down, hands shifting up to your wrists, his whole front pressing into yours, his lips breaking contact to hover above you. His eyes are addictive in how they rove you beneath him.

“Are you still upset?” you tease, and he shakes his head, for the first time smiling.

“No.”

Your voices drop to whispers, and the intimacy of that makes you weak. You jut your chin at him.

“Can you take off your hat?”

He obliges, freeing your wrist for a second, before he’s back again, staring at you. You can feel how hard he is through his trousers that press into your crotch, your heart hammering. If someone were to walk in, there’d be no explaining this away.

“Come here,” you whisper.

He kisses you again, and you wrap your thighs around his narrow waist, your tongues tangling. He groans once more, and lets you slip out of his grip to help undo his belt, his fingers deftly pulling down his fly. You reach inside his pants to feel the hard length of his cock and he give a huff of a laugh against the corner of your mouth, pushing you back down, his hands slipping down your sides and then up under the bottom of your dress.

You shiver as his fingers glide up your thighs. Stockings are hard to come by, your bare skin breaking out in goose bumps all over.

It’s been a long time since a man touched you. It’s never been like this, so electrified. Your nerve endings alight when he meets the cut of you over your underwear, finding you soaking through the cotton. He grunts, pushing aside the offending material to reach your cunt, your gasp smothered by another rushed kiss. Your hands no longer attempt to stroke him, he’s distracting and precise, filling you with two fingers, as you ride his palm.

“Fuck…”

This isn’t a dream. If it were, you’d be awake already. When you fantasize about this, he never gets this far. You climb, his lips peppering your cheek as you rock, his thumb rubbing your clit, your body tightening. His teeth graze your jaw and your back bows.

“Come, my darling,” he whispers. “Come for me…”

You explode, vision whitening as he brings you off, your hands gripping his arms to keep you steady. You ride it out, thighs shaking as he pulls back to look you in the eye.

“How was that?” he murmurs, and he’s smiling again.

He’s so beautiful when he smiles. You kiss him instead of answering, still twitching deep inside. His fingers slip away, sticky on your thighs as he widens them.

In a rush, you lift your hips to pull your underwear down, while he rearranges his own to free his cock, and then he’s there, he’s right there –

He grunts as he pushes inside you, your arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him, to pull him back down. He rocks, filling you, and you both still, sighing.

“You feel incredible,” he whispers, and you grin up at him. “Are you alright?”

“Better than alright,” you whisper back.

He moves again, almost all the way out before slamming into you, both of you groaning. The delicious drag of him makes you tremble and moan, your head falling back against the desk as he picks up speed.

“Don’t finish in me,” you whisper, and he nods, his breaths turning to pants.

He buries his face in your neck, and you hold on for dear life, taking everything, feeling as if you are floating above your body with how reckless he becomes so quickly. He pulls back at the last second, kissing you, one hand gripping your jaw.

He comes, sweat on his forehead, and you pant along with him, dazed.

For several moments, you say nothing, resting together, still lying on the desk. He peels away, offering to help you up. You pull your underwear back on, and he tidies himself. You wait for the other shoe to drop, but he takes out two cigarettes, lighting them both and inhaling them before handing you one.

“Can I walk you home, now?” he whispers.

He’s so quiet, so utterly elsewhere in that moment that you stare at the side of his face, smoking, before he finally looks at you, hopeful.

“Yes,” you whisper back, exhaling.

Let me know if you like this one! Thank you for reading. 😘❤️

#oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #fem reader #near zero

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 months

Text

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x12 New York City Serenade

(gif by @pirateherokillian)

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 938

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian tossed the bean into the churning sea and then jumped just as he saw the smoke of the newest curse billow toward him. He let out a long breath as the portal closed around him.

He’d made it.

Now came the real challenge. Before he’d left the band of heroes, Regina had told him she’d given Swan and Henry a life in New York City. Killian recalled the one and only time he’d been in this New York. It had been a land of noise, bustle and endless people. It was a strange land where he could walk among the citizens dressed as a pirate of old, and no one batted an eye. (Aside, of course, from that group of giggling women who had requested he take a selfie with them, whatever the blazes that was.)

How did one even begin to search for someone in this sprawling metropolis? Killian supposed he could always break into Baelfire’s apartment and use it as a home base of sorts while he waited if that proved necessary.

The portal deposited Killian upon a sidewalk and he fell to his knees with a wince. He got quickly back to his feet, looking around himself, pleased to see this particular sidewalk was largely deserted.

Killian glanced around to find that he’d landed in front of what may be a lodging house of some kind–an apartment building, he believed it was called in this land. It seemed to be outside of the heart of the city, the sidewalk lined by well manicured trees and shrubs.

Perhaps he’d been fortunate. Perhaps the portal had deposited him in front of Swan’s abode. He strode toward the gate before the building and pulled at the handle.

It appeared to be locked tight.

Killian peered down at the lock and frowned. It didn’t seem to require a key. All he could see was some manner of keypad. How was one to pick a lock such as this?

He was still trying to determine the answer to that when an elderly lady came to the gate and gave him a disapproving look.

“Just why are you loitering here, young man?” she asked, frowning up at him.

Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing at the “young man” comment. If only she knew his actual age! “I believe my girlfriend lives in this building, madam,” he said in his most charming tone, the one that got even Granny herself to blush. “Emma Swan? Can you help me get in?”

If anything, the woman’s frown deepened, and she folded her arms. “I’ve met Emma Swan’s boyfriend, and you are not him.”

Killian ignored the nasty, jealous feeling the statement evoked. It was vital he get to Emma as soon as possible and restore her memories. He hadn’t time to reflect on the current state of her love life and the emotions that dredged up within him.

“I think you must be mistaken,” he lied smoothly. “That relationship is at an end, and she’s with me now.”

She continued to watch him carefully for another moment, and then nodded, turning toward the keypad and unlocking the door. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry to see the end of Walsh,” she said. “There was always something kind of….shifty…about him. I’m not sure that you’re any better, though. Don’t think I can’t see right through that charm you ooze.”

“You find me charming?” he asked, flirting shamelessly as he followed her into the building and then surreptitiously glanced at the buzzer board in the entryway to find the apartment number he was looking for. His grin widened as the elderly woman finally blushed.

“Don’t let it go to your head, young man,” she said, turning to open an apartment door on the ground floor.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Killian was still grinning from the encounter as he climbed the stairs until he’d reached Swan’s floor, but the grin was replaced by nerves when he reached her door. Was he ready for this? Was he ready to see her again and see the lack of recognition in her eyes?

Would his plan to bestow a True Love’s Kiss on her work to restore her memories? He knew she cared about him; he’d seen it in her eyes when they’d bid each other farewell at the town line. Was it enough to break a curse?

He took a deep breath and then stood taller, looking at the door determinedly. There was only one way to find out.

Taking one more fortifying breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Five minutes later, Killian hobbled down the stairs and back out onto the sidewalk, his heart smarting as much as his nether regions at the failure of his first plan. Aye, it had been a long shot that his True Love’s Kiss would work. Perhaps her feelings were not as strong as he’d hoped they were. Still one hardly wished his kiss to his beloved to be followed by a swift knee to his groin.

For a moment, as he got his bearings and began making his way toward Baelfire’s abode, Killian allowed himself to feel the sting of rejection, but then he firmly put it aside.

So his first attempt had failed. He still had the potion. Aye, he had hoped to give it to the lad after his kiss had restored Swan’s memories, but he could adapt. It was time to rethink his approach and strategize.

Getting through Regina’s memory spell was going to be quite the challenge, but he loved a challenge, and he loved Emma.

She was worth fighting for.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #cs fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #my fanfiction #3x12 new york city serenade #killian jones

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Text

"You blew it years ago" - Matt Murdock x Reader

SUMMARY: Virtually everyone in college knew you had a crush on Matt, including him, who wasn't interested. He bumps into you years later only to realize the tables have turned and how much you've changed. Unfortunately, he needs a favour.

WORDS: 1,830

Author's note: If you didn't know, I made a Daredevil-inspired playlist.

You have thought of, probably, every possible way of getting his attention and all of your attempts always ended the same way - Matt had more interesting things to do. It got to the point where you were questioning the exact point "shooting your shot" becomes "creep that can't take a hint".

"Can I share an honest reflection?" your friend asked. "Honest reflection" was your code word for "objective truth that may or may not hurt". The answer to her question didn't actually matter: she was going to do it anyway. "Just stop, (Y/N). You're embarrassing yourself at this point. He's not into it. Nada. Null. Zilch. Zero. A fat, round...-"

"Yeah, I got it at 'Nada'," you stopped her. Although it hurt to hear it, deep down you knew she was absolutely right to say it; and how rare that is even among friends: to say what one needs to hear but not exactly want.

"But you know me, darling dearest!" she exclaimed happily. "No low without a high. So how about we go drown that broken heart in $1 margaritas from Saul's happy hour menu? Maybe he'll share some old Italian cure for being lovesick."

"Like leftover lasagna?"

Your friend let out a belly laugh of genuine happiness. Maybe there was, after all, hope for your broken heart.

Matt, Foggy and Karen sort of invited themselves to the banquet. Their current case lead them to some businessmen and possible embezzlement. Matt counted on the expensive alcohol forcing their guards down. Along with that, none of the men involved suspected a few insiders to be biting at their heels.

Foggy and Karen were looking around in hopes of finding a face they would recognize from some old photograph of a board of directors. Matt, in turn, listened closely to each sound that reached his ears: conversations, laughter, the clicking of high heels and glasses. But the public refused, as if, to mention the name that he was looking for.

"Hot damn, Matt," Foggy tugged at his arm, eyes focusing on something far away. "It's (Y/N)."

"What?" Hearing that name completely threw him off. To some extent, he had completely forgotten about the woman hiding behind it. She didn't carry much merit in his life's history, so it was fairly obvious the memories would fly out of his busy head. Somehow, however, faint recollections of that woman stayed behind as if God himself knew that his strange incident was going to, eventually, take place and was desperate for Matt to remember. But for what?

"You remember that girl from ethics that had a massive crush on you? And that you completely ignored? She's here and oh man you're gonna eat your hat." Foggy's eyes were still focused on something or, rather, someone, far away - the most alluring guest of the evening.

"I didn't ignore her, I just didn't want to lead her on," Matt said in such an ambivalent tone, his friend had to give him a short, confused look to make sure he was being serious.

"Matt, man, you did ignore her. And you have a chance to apologize because she's coming right towards us."

He listened in, picking up a stable rhythm of your high heels clicking against the floor and the rustle of your evening dress. It sounded like the moment Cinderella left her carriage, stealing everyone's breath from the first moment they saw her. Matt heard the hellos, the how-you-doing-ma'ams and variations of compliments, often interwoven with jealousy, lust and utmost admiration. He didn't recall you getting the same attention back in the college days.

"Wait, I've seen her," Karen whispered when you were barely meters away. She tapped her finger on her lip a few times, eyebrows furrowed as if she couldn't quite match the face to the memory or the memory to the location. "She was modelling for some expensive underwear. Damn, she looks even better in real life."

That made sense to Matt, considering that each of your steps caused a handful of heartbeats to raise. He could sense just how sweaty the men staring at you were and how hard their wives clenched their jaws or fists, if not both.

"Matt and Franklin, what a surprise to see you here!" you exclaimed. It was genuinely shocking to see them again, especially at a banquet for millionaires. A blonde woman, unknown to you, was with them and so you were quick to introduce yourself, not wanting her to feel awkward. Yourself, you knew perfectly well what it meant to be the third wheel. "It's (Y/N), I used to go to college with them. And you are...?"

Matt could already tell you'd changed: your voice was different as well as the way you spoke. Confidence and assertiveness beamed from you, making him feel a little intimidated - the image he had of you, up until now, was vastly different from the reality surrounding him. The flustered girl from ethics was an entity of days long gone, now replaced with a woman akin to royalty.

"Karen Page, I work with them." She shook your hand with a polite smile on her face. Karen was still thinking about Foggy's words and couldn't help but wonder whether you still felt something for the blind lawyer. "They never mentioned you."

"We weren't exactly close. Anyway," you clapped your hands. Matt could tell people were raining their necks to get a glimpse of your bright smile. "What brings you here? As far as I know, Mr Cooper isn't a fan of lawyers."

Metaphorically, their ears perked up upon hearing the familiar surname. Maybe they couldn't find the lion on their own but the lion came to them by itself when given enough time.

"We're here on business," Foggy interjected. He aimed to kill two birds with one stone, although one of those birds will have to make his own decision to be killed. "Matt will tell you the rest, we have to find someone." Before anyone could protest, Foggy pulled Karen by her elbow, disappearing in the swarm of slip dresses and expensive tuxedos.

"Business you say?" you asked Matt. It was clear they weren't actually invited and you were risking your entire career by the sole conversation you were having. "With due respect, you probably know what you're doing, but this is a really bad place and time to play superheroes."

"I like it a little rough," he said with a smile. It took all of your willpower to not roll your eyes at the innuendo. "Could you do me a favour, (Y/N)? For old times' sake?"

You laughed at his request. It seemed completely ridiculous that Matthew Murdock suggested you had some shared history and that said history was at least pleasant. To you, he was in way over his head. In some way, it felt akin to insulting.

"We are not friends, Matthew," you managed to say between bitter laughs. "We never were, so I'm not sure what old times you mean."

"Look, I know I haven't exactly been nice to you back in the d...-"

"Is that what you think this is about?" you cut him off. You followed your own question with laughter. "I don't mean to break your heart but I actually don't stay up at night thinking about you. Look, Matt, I don't care what happened and I don't have either the time or the energy to dwell on it. You shouldn't either."

"Foggy thought apologizing first would make the second part a little easier, so: I'm sorry, I really am but right now, I need your help."

"Then prepare for a debt, Matt. I might need a lawyer after whatever you're about to pull, am I right?"

"You won't. Scout's honour." He put his hand on his chest all the while smiling at you. There was something devilish in his cocky, self-assured mannerism. "You do something for me and I'll happily be at your service."

"What exactly do you want from me?"

"Hypothetically speaking, if someone was to look through Cooper's office, what would they have to do to get him out of there for a while?"

For a moment you didn't answer, simply enjoyed the obvious desperation he was in. How funny life can be. Although you might not have looked the part, it was a difficult decision to make. If anyone ever makes the connection, you were done for. Completely. Mr Cooper, however, remained a person greatly ambivalent to you at best. He was an eccentric man and you have heard quite a number of less than savoury stories about him but he has never treated you other than with impeccable respect. You had to trust that Matt was as intelligent and honest as he had been in college. Maybe you weren't willing to admit it to yourself but the old flame sparked in your chest.

"Tell Foggy I accepted your heartfelt apology. Mr Cooper is allergic to citruses and his pet ferret is currently at a veterinary clinic. Do with it whatever you might but you have never heard that from me.

"Never met you, I don't think I even know you," he answered. You couldn't help but smile at his attempt at a light joke because the humourous statement could hardly be called a joke: Matt really didn't know you. "About staying up at night," he said as you were about to turn around and leave him alone at the mercy of Roja perfumes and Vacheron Constantin watches. A cocky smirk crept unto his face. "We could do it together some time."

At first, you only chuckled, unsure which you found funnier: his audacity or the fact that you weren't exactly opposed to the idea. If Matt thought that a girl who used to have a crush on him would "put out" at the speed of light, he was deeply mistaken and, perhaps, deluded.

"I'm afraid I'll do with your debt whatever I want, Matt. But if you insist, coucher avec toi might be among the suggestions."

He didn't feel discouraged. A "maybe" was unspeakably better than a "no". Matt will find a way to worm his way back into your heart - he will make sure of it. He was, after all, one hard-headed man.

"Will I see you around?" he asked as indifferently as he could but you knew the likes of him. It was a gateway to ask you out and you weren't going to give in easily. Not anymore. It took you some growing up to realize how little male attention matters.

"You know, the Chinese have a saying: distance tests a horse's stamina. I'm willing to find out whether you're the winning stallion. So until next time, Matthew."

And with those words, you simply walked away, quickly gaining an entourage of doe-eyed men you never intended to even talk to. If it wasn't for his pride, Matt would be one of them - not that he will ever admit to that.

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all-pacas · 2 months

Note

not sure if you’re still interested in prompts but in case the block is still hitting you, how about “late-night meal after a tense battle” with your choice or claudeleth or tavstarion (durgstarion? idk what the ship name is)

i Interpreted the prompt

"Please bite me," Tav says, her eyes wild and desperate.

Considering Astarion has only just opened the door, he's a bit thrown.

In thanks for saving Last Light and the inn's precious cleric, Jaheria had told the party they could feel free to claim any empty rooms they wished. He'd been looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed for once. Perhaps even a bath. Some time alone, a novelty in itself, something he's practically itching for --

Tav's heart is racing, her breath quick and short. She stares up at him unblinking, and he can practically see her pulse through her throat.

He doesn't really want --

She is frightened.

He smiles, stepping gracefully back to allow her in. "Who I am to refuse such a tempting offer?"

Tav lingers outside the threshold for a heartbeat -- two -- before stepping inside. The room is small, the only window boarded up -- the cost of privacy. His bed is narrow, but he'd already laid out his bedroll on top -- Tav sits down on the bed, picking and tearing at her fingers, already bloody.

He wants her to go. But he pastes on a smile and watches her pick pick pick at a fingernail, into the sensitive flesh beneath, ragged and red --

"What's the matter, darling?"

She brushes her hair to the side, exposing her neck. It's just too short: silvery strands fall back at once. He sits beside her on the bed, trying it for himself. Finds the vein with his thumb and strokes along it, a fading bruise. He can smell her clearly now: the mineral scent of her sweat and skin, the sharp, thick heat of her blood. Tav's eyes do not flutter closed at his touch, she does not lean into it. Her eyes remain open, fixed on her lap.

Even if he had not planned on a meal tonight he can recall the taste of her blood, of her skin, the acrid punch of veins, the salt of meat, the heat -- his mouth is awfully wet. Her pulse sounds louder, the smell of her richer. She picks at her thumb --

He covers her hands with his own. "You'll ruin your nails."

"I don't care."

"I do." He feels a hot pinch of annoyance, and finds he means it.

"Just bite me, please."

Oh, but he'd like to. She's inches away. Hot and sharp and willing. Her blood is the best he's had, the strongest, the richest -- sweet and salty and sour and sharp, pulsing under her skin, right there, inches away -- "Why?" Hard to concentrate. To ask.

She doesn't answer.

It's hard. It's so hard. He does not bite. "I was planning on a quiet evening alone," he says. Irritated, trying to hold back. Letting it show. "If you're going to interrupt, I at least want to know why."

He does not need to eat as often as a living man. Every second day is plenty. They had not made plans. More than that -- his mind races. He should have said that differently. He didn't sound grateful. She will -- "I'm worried, darling. You seem upset." He squeezes her hands. Leans closer. She is doing him a favor, and he must act it. Be grateful. Be --

Her heart is racing. Has been racing. Even as he tells himself to touch her, to fret, to be sweet -- he catches her fingers in his own, running his thumb along her jagged nails. What a pity. What a...

"I want to kill Isobel," she says.

Not what he'd expected.

Before he can decide how to react, what she will want to hear, Tav continues in a monotone. "As soon as I saw her. I thought, she's what's keeping this place safe. The only thing keeping everyone here alive. They'd be so frightened if she died. So lost. Helpless." Her cheek muscles twitch -- she squeezes her eyes closed.

"Well, darling," he says. "I wish you had told me before we went through all that trouble to protect her from that Marcus fellow."

Her laugh is strangled. A cry. She trembles all over, and he feels -- he doesn't know what to do. "He wanted her alive," Tav continues, more quickly, fighting back a laugh -- "Imagine if I had killed her first. Imagine. The Absolute would be furious. Everyone would be dead, I -- I don't want to think this way!"

Do something.

He is not used to worrying for others besides himself, and so he mistakes his feeling for a more general anxiety. Not for the first time, Astarion wonders what would happen if his poor, mad friend turned her urges on him -- do something. But she is shaking, desperate, looking to be bitten not for him but her. For death. For oblivion.

He puts his arm around her, telling himself it is what Gale or Wyll or Karlach would do. It is awkward. He has never done this before, but she makes another strangled sound and pushes her weight against him, half climbing into his lap, head under his chin and arms around his sides. Hot and overwhelming, a furnace, a warmth -- her pulse surrounding him, reverberating against his skin --

His poor, mad --

He returns the embrace awkwardly, somehow unsure where to put his hands. She speaks into his shoulder and throat, her breath hot and damp. "If you take all my blood, if I can just sleep, if I can just rest... my head hurts, but if it would stop I'd be alright, I'd be safe..."

"You're being ridiculous," he says, which stops her quiet rambling. He tries to shift into a more comfortable position, not letting her go: somehow ends up pulling her entirely into his lap, leaning sideways against him, heavy. He's more conscious of her body like this. Ridiculous. He's fucked her enough, and they're entirely clothed. But the weight of her -- her heartbeat, her lungs, the life of her. Hot and damp and moving, breathing, pulsing, trembling --

He's seldom felt less alive.

"If you want to turn around and kill her -- tomorrow, once we've all had a good night's sleep, if you don't mind -- that's perfectly fine. But you're acting as though you'll lose control and go mad, and that's simply ridiculous."

"I've done it before," and she starts to pull away -- but he's expected this and is growing to enjoy the heat and damp as it seeps through his skin. He tightens his hold on her. She buries her face in his shoulder and her hair tickles at his nose.

"And you shan't do it again." It's a comforting lie, a lie she will want to hear. A lie that leaves her quiet and pliant. Which is why he says it -- the only reason, the reason he allows his eyes to close, she's heavy, her bent knees knocking into his elbow, he breathes --

"You don't know that," she says, desperate to be wrong.

"You could have killed her any number of times today." It's what she wants to hear, and that's why he's saying it. Payment. Service. Favors. Her shoulders move as she breathes, her heart thrums in her chest, in his chest. His desperate little -- (love.) He is doing this on purpose. He is tricking her to earn her trust. He wants to -- be a comfort. For the protection. The safety. That's all. "But you didn't truly want to, and you didn't. Your control isn't as lax as you believe it, darling. I know that perfectly well, and you really ought to listen when I say so."

She hums. Quiet for a moment. He feels her calm, relax. He's never been a source of comfort before. For anyone. Ever. Even though he's just pretending, it's... nice. He likes --

"Bite me, please," Tav asks quietly.

There's no reason to refuse.

"Would it make you feel better, darling?" he asks.

He isn't sure why he asks.

It's blood, rich and delicious, so really, he's benefiting here as well. She doesn't want cuddles, doesn't want to be petted, they both get what they want --

"Yes. Please." -- and it's all fake anyway, so if it's what Tav wants, why not?

He says something or another, rearranging her on the bed. Ease of access, minimizing any spillage. She follows easily, pliant. Her smile tremulous. Grateful.

Now that she's getting what she wants --

He bites.

#bg3 durgestarion

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deeg9 · 1 year

Note

Hey D!

Chenford request if you've got time.

Chenford + Chris finds out Lucy and Tim are together ❤️

Hey Anon -

Thanks for this request. I'm a sucker for 'Mr. Steal Your Girl'. Check out my take on this on AO3 --here-- or read it below!

Tim leaned over the center console of his truck and pecked Lucy on the cheek.

“I better go, I don’t want to be late,” Tim said.

They’d been talking in the truck for the last five minutes about a reservation he made. After shift, they were heading to a new seafood restaurant in the marina that Lucy was excited about.

She picked up his travel mug and frowned.

“You should grab some coffee before you head out,” Lucy said, hopping out of the truck. “You need caffeine if you’re training all morning.”

The metro squad was convened in front of the station getting ready to board a bus to the training center.

“No time,” Tim said as he shut the door. They met at the end of the truck bed as a car pulled into the spot next to them.

“I’ve got time,” she grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll fill it up and be right back.”

“You don’t have to,” Tim protested but he knew it was futile.

“I want to,” she winked.

“Thanks, babe.”

As he joined his team, he watched her walk into the building, and the shuffle of loafers on the asphalt caught his attention.

He turned to find Chris Sanford hot on his heels.

Before he could get a word out, Chris was spewing venom.

“You’re a walking Meme, you know that?” Chris accused. “You’re Mr. Steal Your Girl.”

A hushed tone fell over the Metro squad as they all stopped talking to listen.

“Seriously?” Tim rolled his eyes. What the hell was a meme? “I did not ‘steal’ anyone. Lucy isn’t a piece of property. She did not belong to you.”

One of the officers on Metro whistled.

“A little privacy, please?” Tim tossed over his shoulder at his team. They held up their hands good-naturedly and moved closer to the bus. Grey, however, had just arrived and stayed within hearing distance.

“Don’t make me sound like the bad guy here,” Chris bit out. “You knew Lucy and I were about to take an important step in our relationship and you pulled some Bradford magic. What did you do? Tell her you’d always loved her?”

“No,” Tim shook his head and then shrugged casually. “I asked her to dinner.”

“While she was my girlfriend?” Chris asked.

“She wasn’t your girlfriend when we went to dinner,” Tim clarified, keeping his tone even.

“You. Asked. Out. My. Girlfriend,” Chris rephrased. “That's a dick move.”

“I asked her out for you too, if you recall,” Tim reminded him with a smug shrug. “You should be thanking me.”

“Tim…” Grey warned.

“You son of a bitch,” Chris muttered as he rushed Tim.

Tim bit back a laugh as he caught Chris’ fist mid air.

Grey stepped over, rubbing his thumb and finger over his eyes.

“Good lord. I have not had enough coffee for this. Do I need to remind you that assaulting a police officer is a crime, ADA Sanford?” Grey chastised, crossing his arms.

Chris’ face went white at the implication.

“I think we can all agree that didn’t count. Right, Sanford?” Tim pat Chris on the shoulder. “Seriously …I didn’t even feel it.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“You’re an asshole,” Chris said, very matter of fact, the previous venom gone from his tone.

Tim sighed.

“Look. It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim explained calmly. “We never intended to fall in love, but she makes me insanely happy and I won’t apologize for that.”

“I loved her too,” Chris told him.

Tim nodded respectfully.

“And if she had loved you, I would have walked away,” Tim assured him.

Chris appraised him silently.

“I can’t believe I actually believe you when you say that,” Chris said, letting out a breath.

“It’s the truth.”

The door behind them swung open and a beaming Lucy emerged from the building. Her smile faltered when she saw Chris and Tim.

“I’m going to go,” Chris said.

"I'll walk in with you," Grey nodded.

Chris tipped his chin coolly at Lucy as he passed by her. She wished them both a good morning.

“What was that about?” Lucy asked, throwing a concerned look over her shoulder at Chris’ back.

“Just guy stuff,” Tim said with a shake of his head.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and Lucy looked around the parking lot suspiciously. He was usually careful about PDA, especially since they spent so many weeks secretly dating. He brought one hand to her neck and grazed his thumb along her jaw.

“What’s gotten into you?” Lucy whispered with a smile on her face.

“I am just so in love with you,” Tim admitted.

He chuckled blissfully and then bit his bottom lip to keep his smile from completely overtaking his face.

Lucy’s smile grew wider and he suddenly had a hard time remembering why he’d been waiting so long to say this out loud.

“And I love you,” Lucy said and tilted her head to the side.

Wow. He was completely unprepared for how his body responded to those three little words. It wasn’t even the words themselves, necessarily. Even unsaid, he’d known she loved him. She showed him in her actions every day. It was how confident she said it that struck a chord.

“Should we call in sick today?” Tim suggested in a low tone, brushing her hair out of her face.

She slapped him playfully on the chest and pushed the travel mug into his hands... but if she thought he missed the flash of heat in her eyes or the blush on the buds of her cheeks, she was wrong.

“Your boss is standing right there,” she scolded him.

“I know,” he sighed and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“But just so you know ... In my head, I’m kissing you passionately right now,” she whispered for only him to hear.

He wanted to groan but held it back.

“Hmmm... Well, in my head, I’m between your legs right now,” he growled against her ear.

“Oh my god,” Lucy laughed and stepped back. She started toward the entrance but then paused and looked over her shoulder.

“Cancel the dinner reservation.” She bit her lip. “We’re staying in tonight.”

A flash of heat filled his belly.

“Can’t wait!” He called after her and she laughed. He watched as she disappeared inside the building.

“Bradford!” His lieutenant shouted. “If you’re done, we’d like to get going.”

He ignored the oohs, aahs, and kissing noises his team made as he jogged over to the bus with a huge smile on his face.

It was perfectly ok with him if they teased him.

None of them knew what it was like to be loved by Lucy Chen.

THE END

P.S. Kudos/Comments on AO3 are always appreciated!

#chenford #chenford fic #ao3 #anon request #the rookie #by deeg9

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buckyscrystalqueen · 2 years

Text

Forever

Pairings: Syverson x OFC (Adele), Sy x OFC

Warnings: Fluff. Just pure fluff

Word Count: 1,356

A/N; So I wrote this story for a creative writing college class. I was listing to my country music playlist while I was thinking about what to write and “Traveling Soldier” by The (Dixie) Chicks came on and this story just popped into my head. So after 8 weeks of critiques, editing, rewriting, and all but pulling my hair out, here it is. @just-chirpin I told you I would tag you when I finally posted this. Class is over and I got an A on this so I am super proud of this!

~~~~~~~~~

Fear. It was a feeling that felt so foreign to Army Captain Jack Syverson but as he sat in the Charlotte airport, impatiently tapping his foot while waiting for his final connecting flight to Savannah, Georgia, it was the only feeling that he was aware of. A gold ring felt like lead in the pocket of his dark blue jeans. The light grey Henley he had on over his muscular chest and arms felt a half size too small. He wondered if she would even recognize him after eight years.

Without thinking he nervously scratched at the short, thick brown beard on his chin before his hand moved up and brushed across the buzz cut he had done after washing years of sand and bad memories off in the shower. The smooth textures beneath his fingertips changed as his hand moved down to the brace on his knee to adjust it subconsciously. He resisted reaching into his tour stained desert brown backpack to pull out the stack of letters he had long since memorized; the ink was starting to fade and the pages had become fragile along the creases from folding and unfolding them, he didn’t want to risk them falling apart like her very first letter had. Those two pages were safely tucked in their envelope, taped together as carefully as his thick fingers could possibly manage.

“Now boarding flight 1721 to Dallas/ Fort Worth at gate D5.” Sy glanced up at his gate number, D2, at the mention of his hometown airport and the fleeting thought of if he was doing the right thing crossed his mind. When he had booked his flight, the only thing he could think about was the gorgeous smile of the stranger he had been writing to for years. The young girl with a bow in her hair didn’t know him from Adam when he sat down in her section at Clary’s Cafe in Savannah the day before he shipped out to California for boot camp. A tour book had recommended the quaint landmark where he was oblivious to the Formica tables and historic prints on the walls and enthralled by his waitress instead.

Her sparkling brown eyes were forever burned in his memory when she agreed to him writing to her while he was deployed. Her French braided, waist length, light brown hair swished freely across her tanned back as she casually led him through the historic squares of her hometown. Etched in his mind forever was the cute, purple with white polka dots bandana wrapped around her head in an impossible attempt to keep the tiny fly aways that framed her face tamed. It was tied in a bow just above her left eye, complimenting her vibrant eye color. The memory of her smile was what kept him going in the desert though. He was forever grateful that he allowed an extra day in Savannah before the last leg of his bus trip to Fort Bragg in North Carolina.

Sy saw that smile every night in his dreams and recalled it during tough times when he sent a fallen or injured soldier home. His thoughts would drift to it during chow, and he could picture it across her pretty face when he would read the detailed letters she sent twice a month. He reread these same letters whenever he needed a pick-me-up when the war got to be just too much for even him to handle. He had long ago memorized the line she had written, “I was never lonely on my walks through the squares until you left,” until it was ingrained on his soul.

Her smile was the reason he got through officers training. Her freedom was what he was fighting for. That is, it was what he was fighting for until he blew out his left knee breaking up a fight between two blow hard privates that let the desert heat get to their heads. The weeks he spent in the hospital were something he had zero intention of mentioning to her. She had worried enough about him these past eight years to bother her with something so trivial. In his last letter to her he had casually lied and said he was going home to Decatur, Texas in two weeks instead of admitting he was going to surprise her in Savannah.

There went that fear again. Fear that she wouldn’t recognize him when he sat down in what hopefully was still her section at Clary’s. Fear that if it wasn’t, that she would be walking the same route through the squares every Sunday morning like she used to. Fear that he would never be able to find the pen pal that he had fallen in love with. He recalled her comment in a later letter that she “feared the instant connection they had shared many years ago would be gone”, which only added to his anxiety. He hoped to get his feelings in check before his last connecting flight from Charlotte to Savannah.

Sy’s hands made another pass through his beard, over his head, before scrubbing his tired blue eyes that were most likely blood shot from the sleep he had lost worrying about this trip he was making. The trip where he would finally come face to face with the woman that he loved and yearned to hold. The woman who referred to their one and only day together as the best day she had ever had. In her letters she had claimed she felt like she had always known him.

“Final boarding call for flight 1721 to Dallas/ Fort Worth at gate D5.”

“Wait! Please wait!” a woman cried, catching Sy’s attention. He looked to his right to watch her sprinting through the crowded Charlotte terminal, her long, curly brown hair tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head, and a purple with white polka dot bandana tied as a headband at the front, trying to keep those little fly aways back.

“Adele?” he asked himself as he carefully stood up and grabbed the strap of his backpack. His heart pounding, he limped as fast as he could as she breezed past, dodging an elderly couple that were walking just a bit too slow. “Adele!” She came to a screeching halt, her black Converse sneakers squeaking loudly on the white linoleum floor. She found him instantly in the crowd and all the fears he had been stressing over simply melted away.

“Sy?” she breathed, but they both knew what she was questioning. How was the scrawny boy she met in Savannah now the six foot one, muscular man before her? With the slightest bob of his head in confirmation, she bolted back into his direction and took a flying leap of faith into his arms.

“You’re here,” she whispered with tears in her eyes as they clung tightly together, shocked to find each other in the chaos of Charlotte’s connecting flights.

“I love you,” was the only thing he could say as he gently leaned back to see her gorgeous smile. He searched her tear-filled eyes as he carefully set her down on the ground and reached into his pocket for the ring that now felt like a brick. “And I will never leave you again. Will you…”

“Yes,” she gasped with a violent nod of her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes as quickly as she could. “I love you, too. I have for years…”

“Me too,” he replied as he slid the band onto her finger. She caressed his scruff covered cheek in her small hand and confirmed her feelings with a gentle kiss. The sights and sounds around them slipped away as they held on to their whole world in that moment.

“Come home with me.” She whispered when she pulled away to search the sweet blue eyes that she had seen nightly in her dreams. “Please tell me you are coming home. I can’t bear another minute…”

“I’m coming home.” He confirmed with a smile that made her feel whole again. “I’m coming home with you forever.”

#syverson x ofc #Sy x OFC #syverson fic #captain syverson #Forever #sy

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jamespotterthefirst · 2 years

Text

Bad Influence (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, book 1

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)

Word count: 950

Warning: Slight language

Prompt: 39. "You are a terrible influence."

Premise: They make the other smile with a small gesture on Halloween, the busiest day at work.

A/N: I changed the title a little from the prompt. I like “bad influence” more than “terrible influence”

“Where’s your holiday spirit, Dr. Ramsey?” someone asked from somewhere to his right. There was an unmistakable flirtatious lilt to the question, dotted with a hopeful giggle.

The bit was far too predictable.

“Beg your pardon?” he replied, not bothering to hide his irritation. He didn’t even bother to look up from his patient file.

The young doctor’s laugh teetered on the nervous side this time.

“I just thought…since it was Halloween…” she seemed to lose an ounce of bravery with each word. Eventually, she trailed off, leaving that thought unfinished. Not that it mattered. Ethan had no interest in hearing it anyway.

“Halloween,” he began, his patience having reached its limit, “is one of the busiests days of the year for hospitals for reasons I am sure you can deduce. My sole focus this evening is the influx of patients we will receive, not…” he eyed the blonde’s elaborate makeup and devil’s horns. It wasn’t a full-blown costume since she still donned scrubs, but Ethan could still see the effort wasted on it. “--costumes.”

The blonde looked increasingly more horrified with every word.

“I suggest your own attention is on patient care and not on who is or isn’t wearing a costume, Doctor.”

By the end of it all, the intern fled the scene with so much conviction, she bumped into several passing staff. Other interns quickened their step around him, wise enough to know not to fuck with him in his current mood. Ethan couldn’t be more grateful.

“You look like you need a pick-me-up,” a new voice commented casually.

Ethan’s stomach swooped.

“I need a drink.”

Even her laughter made his insides swell moronically.

“It’s only eight in the morning, Doctor Ramsey.”

“Exactly.”

He made the mistake of looking up. There, radiant in the afterglow of her amusement and looking far prettier than anyone had any right to, was Doctor Allende. She leaned casually against the empty nurses’ desk, in the same spot the brazen intern had been moments earlier. Her smile grew into a conspiratorial little simper that drew his attention to her lips.

“I know just what you need.”

His pulse picked up. It took a herculean amount of effort to keep his thoughts strictly professional.

“Catch,” she said abruptly.

In a flash, he caught the chocolate bar she had aimed his way. Ethan frowned down at it.

“The vending machine’s been out of these for weeks.”

Lilac was fully grinning now, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“I know. I stole this.”

Ethan raised a brow, waiting for her to elaborate.

“From the conference room. I had a question for Chief Emery before her Board meeting. They were preparing for it, pulling out all the stops. They had all kinds of expensive snacks and candy set out.”

Ethan let out an annoyed scoff.

“I know. I saw these and thought of you.”

There it was again, that infuriating dive of his stomach.

“Are we adding theft to your list of offenses?” he asked, a desperate attempt to ignore the way his mind replayed her words like a broken record.

“And what exactly are those other offenses?” she challenged with an arched brow.

“Being a pain in the ass.”

Her laughter sent a wave of gratification through him.

“I’m also the most innovative, intelligent, talented, efficient, and promising young doctor, if I recall correctly.”

“Not even close. I said you were ‘one of our most promising young doctors.’”

“Same thing.”

He rolled his eyes but he knew it looked far from convincing with the smule pulling at his mouth.

“Anyway, I figured today would be a long day for you…” she trailed off, gesturing at the chocolate bar.

“It’ll be exceedingly busy for you, too. Perhaps even more than my day,” he commented.

“They had Geysers, too. I would’ve swiped some for myself, but Dr. Emery would’ve definitely caught me.” Lilac shrugged. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the beeping of her pager interrupted. Instantly, she straightened, suddenly business-like as she read the message.

“I have to go down to the E.R.” She gave him a small smile before turning to go. “Good luck today!”

Ethan watched her go, his gaze lingering on her retreating form for a beat too long. He returned to his patient file, hoping that work would dispel all remnants of the radiant smile from his thoughts.

It was a futile and foolish hope.

“No costume, Allende? I’m disappointed.”

Bryce feigned a horrified expression. Lilac, meanwhile, laughed as she opened her locker.

“It’s been non-stop busy since I came in this morning. I completely forgot.”

“You’re probably better off. I heard Ramsey was so pissed off, he made several interns change.”

Her heart gave an elated little jolt at the mention of his name. It was lucky no one could see that. Though, she was convinced the whole adjacent hallway could see the flush flaring up on her cheeks.

“Is that so? Well, I dodged a bullet then.”

She needed to get a grip.

Bryce hummed his agreement as he changed into clean scrubs. “You’re still wearing one for Donahue’s later tonight, right?”

Lilac’s tired muscles throbbed in response. After a long, arduous day at work the last thing she needed was more time away from a hot bath and her comfortable bed. “I’ll see if I even go. This day has been hell.”

“Exactly why you should go.” Bryce straightened the front of his scrubs before heading for the door. “Besides, Sienna will probably drag you back if you go home.”

Bryce said something else but Lilac was no longer listening, her attention on a small colorful parcel taped to the back of her locker. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a pack of Geysers Exploding Fruit Snacks. There was a note attached to it, scrawled in familiar handwriting.

Something to get you through Hell.

Lilac laughed, amused by his customary dramatics. There was one more line.

You are a terrible influence.

A/N: Just a little Halloween-ish fic for spooky season. Hope to bring you a few more!

Also, it appears people missed my latest smut piece: Versace on the Floor. Sigh. Tumblr...

If I am not mistake, it was because I marked it as Mature. You have to go in and change your settings to see it.

Anyway, thank you for reading!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices

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