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casspurrjoybell-25 · 8 months

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November - Chapter 16

*Warning Adult Content*

- Oliver -

The morning of Thanksgiving, Oliver dressed in the outfit he'd brought for the occasion.

Since he thought he'd be having Thanksgiving with Brad, he'd packed his nicest sweater, a soft, cream colored cashmere and a pair of tan pants.

He was looking at himself in the mirror and frowning when Cooper came into the bedroom.

"You look amazing," Cooper says, coming up behind Oliver and wrapping his arms around him.

"Is it too much? I don't want to stick out when I'm with your family."

"It's perfect. The only downside is now I have to dress up. My mom got me a sweater last Christmas and if I show up with you looking this nice and I'm not also wearing a sweater, that's all I'm gonna hear about the rest of the day."

Oliver laughs.

"Then we better find that sweater."

Inside the closet, while Cooper tries finds the sweater, Oliver looks through his other clothes.

Cooper’s closet was mostly filled with jeans, outdoor work pants and flannel shirts but Oliver sees some dress pants and a button down shirt in a corner.

"You've got some nicer pants you could wear with the sweater."

"Yeah and I'll probably bust the ass right out of them if I try and wear them. I've put on a little weight since I bought them."

Over laughs loudly and then hugs Cooper.

"I think you have a great body. And I love your ass, even if it's not playing nice with some of your pants at the moment," Oliver tells him, making his point by grabbing Cooper’s ass with both hands.

Cooper grins and backed away out of his grasp.

"If we start, we're not going to get to my parents' house. Hands off."

"You better get dressed then," Oliver warns with a smile on his face."Standing there in your underwear is not helping the situation."

Oliver watched Cooper pull on a nicer pair of jeans and a knit olive green sweater. The color complemented his dark hair and beard perfectly and brought out his hazel eyes.

"You do clean up nice," Oliver says.

"I knew you would."

"Before I let all your compliments go to my head, we should get going. Being in front of my family will force me to behave around you."

******

When they pulled up to Cooper's parents' house, Oliver takes a deep breath.

He knew he shouldn't be nervous.

They weren't dating.

He was just a new friend who had nowhere else to go for Thanksgiving and it shouldn't matter if he impressed Cooper's family or not.

But for some reason, he wanted to impress them.

He wanted them to like him.

He followed Cooper inside, carrying some sparkling cider they'd picked up from the store.

The house was like Cooper's, except bigger.

It had the same warm, homey feel and the air smelled of vanilla and a hint of cinnamon.

Oliver assumed Annabelle had been baking.

"We're here," Cooper calls out.

He leads them to the kitchen where his family have gathered.

Oliver recognizes Annabelle and Rhett from the pictures Cooper had shown him and he assumed the dark-haired, bearded man was his father and the woman with red hair like Annabelle's was his mother.

"Everyone, this is Oliver. Oliver, you can probably guess who Rhett and Annabelle are. And these are my parents, Andy and Eileen."

Oliver stepped forward and shakes everyone's hand.

"It's great to meet you all. Cooper has told me a lot about you and I really appreciate you including me on Thanksgiving."

Cooper’s mother smiled at Oliver and he noticed she had the same warm, hazel eyes as her son.

"Cooper's friends are always welcome. I wouldn't allow anyone to be alone on Thanksgiving."

"Well, I'm looking forward to it." Oliver glanced over at Annabelle.

"Did you bake something for dessert? Cooper gave me some of the s'mores cookies you made and they were amazing. I loved them."

Annabelle's face lit up.

"Thank you. I helped my mom make a pumpkin pie and then I made snickerdoodle cookies. I'm making every type of cookie so I can decide which one is the best."

"This is why I'm getting a fat ass," Cooper says.

"I've been asked to taste all of them."

"If you just had one, it wouldn't be a problem," Rhett says.

"But you take half of them home and then I see you eating at least five during lunch whenever we work together."

"Okay, guilty," Cooper admits with a grin.

"Annabelle's cookies are just that good and I lack self control."

Oliver laughed along with everyone.

As they all sit down and begin eating, it became clear to Oliver that Cooper was the jokester of the family and he kept everyone entertained.

Oliver could also imagine him being the peacekeeper and making sure everyone got along.

All of his family members were kind to Oliver, with the exception of Rhett.

Rhett was the quietest member of the family and the most serious and Oliver caught several disapproving glances from him whenever Cooper’s brother looked in the non-couple’s direction.

Oliver remembered Cooper telling him that Rhett didn't approve of Cooper being gay and the young man hoped it wasn't going to be an issue.

Annabelle talked Oliver’s ear off about baking, especially when she found out that he baked sometimes.

She wanted to know all about the cookies he had made and only stopped her questions when Cooper's father changed the subject.

"How are you liking Washington?" he asks.

"It's incredible. There's so much out here, beaches, mountains, waterfalls, lakes, rainforests. I've been really impressed with everything."

Oliver fills them in on what he'd seen so far and Cooper's parents tell him about some of the trips they'd taken as a family and what else he should try to see.

Talking with them felt natural and easy and Oliver was having a great time.

Dinner flew by and soon Cooper's mother was getting up to get the pumpkin pie and Annabelle's cookies.

"Oliver?" Annabelle piped up.

"Are you Cooper's new boyfriend?"

Oliver looked over at Cooper and saw his cheeks turn pink as he blushed.

Cooper answered before Oliver could.

"No, Oliver is just a good friend. He doesn't live here. He's visiting from California."

"Oh," Annabelle says and turns her gaze to Oliver.

"I had hoped you were Cooper's boyfriend. He deserves someone nice and cute like you. And someone who will bake for him when I can't."

Oliver smiles at her.

"He certainly does deserve all of that. Your brother is an amazing guy and anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend."

"How did you two meet?" Rhett asked.

It was the first thing he'd said to Oliver.

Cooper chimed in again.

"Oliver had the unfortunate experience of having to sit next to me on the plane flight home. He's a forgiving person because he still wants to be friends after I crushed half his body."

Oliver snorted a laugh at Cooper's description.

"What he isn't telling you all is that he helped cheer me up on the plane. My boyfriend at the time got himself a seat in first class and stuck me in economy. Then he kind of ruined this trip by not wanting to hike with me and then breaking up with me after a few days. Cooper's been an awesome tour guide and basically saved my trip."

Cooper’s mother beams at him, a smile that seemed to say 'that's my boy'.

"Cooper has always made friends where ever he goes."

After that, it seemed to be ‘Cooper story time’.

They all took turns telling Oliver about ridiculous things Cooper had done while growing up and the younger man really appreciated hearing the stories and having something to tease Cooper about later.

They finish eating the pie and cookies and everyone helps clean up.

Then Rhett appeared at Oliver’s side.

"Come outside. I want to talk to you."

Oliver followed Rhett into the yard.

‘He made me nervous because he didn't talk much and had an intense demeanor and because I also knew how he felt about gay men.’

Rhett stopped near the corner of the house, crossed his arms and stared at Oliver.

"What's with you and Cooper?"

"Um, what do you mean?"

"I can tell he really likes you. You better not be leading him on."

"I'm not. I like him too but we're not dating. I've known him less than two weeks and I don't live here."

"So you're just going to pick up and leave when your trip is over and go back to California to find another yuppie like you?"

"I don't know. Neither Cooper or I know what's going to happen and we haven't talked about it yet. But I told him I want to come back and visit and he's talked about visiting me."

"Do you actually like him?"

Now Oliver was confused.

"I said I did?"

"How much did he tell you about his exes?"

"He said he had three exes and that one relationship was long distance.

"Here's what he didn't tell you. One of those guys that lived in Seattle called him an uneducated hick. I don't want another city person coming here and making him feel like shit."

Oliver was horrified.

"I would never do that. I think Cooper's great. He's a smart, hardworking guy and I really enjoy being around him. I would never put him down like that."

Rhett stares at Oliver and narrows his eyes.

"You better not. The last thing he needs is someone else getting his hopes up. When that long distance guy broke up with him, he was devastated. I don't want to see him like that again."

Oliver didn't know Cooper had taken the break-up that hard.

He talked about it like anything else, with no hint of seriousness or emotion.

"I wish he wasn't like this," Rhett continued.

"His life would be a lot easier if he would settle down with a woman and have his own family."

"That's not going to happen. He's gay and it's not a choice and he can't change it," Oliver says, feeling a flare of anger.

“I get that. But I don't want him to keep getting hurt, either by not being able to find someone or by guys he works with giving him a hard time."

"Welcome to our lives," Oliver says bitterly."It's not easy and people with attitudes like yours don't make it any easier."

Rhett glared at Oliver and he glares back.

After, what seemed like forever, Rhett breaks the silence.

"Don't hurt him."

Then Cooper’s older brother turns and walked back into the house.

Part of Oliver was mad but another part of him understood what Cooper meant when he said that Rhett worried about him.

Sure, Rhett wasn't exactly gay-friendly but he did seem most concerned about how it impacted Cooper's life and the way people treated him.

Beyond Rhett's gruff exterior and harsh words, Oliver could tell he cared about his brother.

And Oliver cared about Cooper also, more than he wanted to.

And to make the whole situation even worse, Oliver liked his family too.

Being with them felt like being home and they had a warmth that he'd never felt with his own parents.

Cooper was lucky that his parents and Annabelle accepted him exactly the way he was.

It was going to be difficult to go back to his life in California, back to a family he wasn't close with and back to single life.

‘Why did I have to fall for a guy that lived over 1,300 miles away?’

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ghoulgirlwrites · 2 years

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I’d Encourage Your Smiles

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Era: The Black Parade

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: ~1300

Summary/Request: I come here humbly with a request! How about reader is a journalist who has to interview Gerard and she’s kinda nervous but then they really ✨vibe✨ and all these poor people who are there witnessing the interview just get to watch them have a whole meet cute

A/N: Meant to post this DAYS ago, but here it is! Hope you enjoy ;)

You’d been working for Alternative Press magazine for a while, slowly working your way up from doing small features with lesser known bands and now, your hard work was finally being rewarded: you’d been offered the chance to interview My Chemical Romance. Even better, the interview was going to be recorded on video and posted to AP’s website. You’d listened to MyChem since right before Revenge came out and they’d been part of the reason you took an internship at AP, which led to your current job.

“You gonna pass out when Gerard Way gets here, or what?” Asked Jeremy, one of your coworkers.

You shoved him. “Shut up. I’m gonna be professional. You know how big of a deal this is to me.”

He chuckled. “I know. You’re gonna kill it.”

You grinned at him. “Thanks, J.”

You were just setting up the camera in your office so that it was angled perfectly at the couch, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” You called.

Marc, your boss, poked his head in.

“My Chemical Romance are here to see you,” he said.

“Thanks, Marc, I’ll be right out,” you said.

You smoothed your hand over your hair and glanced down at your shirt to make sure there were no stains. Satisfied with what you could see of your appearance, you headed out into the lobby.

Four of the five members of MyChem were standing around, talking amongst themselves. They looked your way when you walked towards them. All of them smiled, except Gerard, who was looking at you with wonder. Your chest fluttered, hoping he liked what he saw. You sure did. He’d recently dyed his hair white blonde and cut most of it in preparation for the new album cycle and you couldn’t deny how much it suited him. Then you kicked yourself. He was here for an interview, it was part of his job. He didn’t want some unprofessional interviewer who flirted with him. Plus you knew how bad that would make you look.

You cleared your throat. “Hi there.”

The five of you exchanged handshakes and you wondered whether you imagined Gerard holding onto your hand a little longer than necessary. You couldn’t deny how nice his hand felt in yours and there was a part of you that didn't want the moment to end.

“Bob couldn’t make it, he’s sick,” Frank said, shrugging as if to say ‘what can ya do?’

“Aw, that’s too bad,” you said. Gerard was still gazing at you as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever seen. Mikey elbowed him and he coughed once, looking away from you. You hated to admit that you already missed the feeling of his bright hazel eyes on you.

“I set everything up in my office, so if you’ll follow me, we can get started,” you said, congratulating yourself for keeping your voice steady, despite how much your heart was pounding.

They all nodded and walked behind you as you led the way to your office. They all squeezed together on the white leather couch while you pulled up your office chair to sit close enough to them that you’d still be in the shot.

“Are you guys ready?” You asked. They all nodded. “Great!” You started the camera and then smiled and waved. “What’s up AP.com, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m hanging out in the office with My Chemical Romance, who are here to talk about their newest album, The Black Parade. You turned to them. “So I’m sure everyone knows your names already, but for the people just tuning into your band, can each of you go around and say your name and what you do in the band?”

Ray, Mikey, and Frank looked at Gerard, assuming he’d go first, but he was staring at you again. Was he into you or was he just camera shy?

Frank rolled his eyes from next to Gerard. “The weirdo next to me is Gerard Way, he sings. I’m Frank Iero and I play guitar and scream.” Frank glanced at Gerard, as if to say, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ and Gerard shook his head, as if he were shaking water out of his ears.

“I’m Mikey Way, I play bass,” Mikey said.

“And I’m Ray Toro and I play guitar,” Ray said.

“Nice,” you said, then kicked yourself for how stupid that sounded. “So tell us about the concept for your new album.”

“Of course,” Gerard said, nodding. “Well, it’s sort of based on the idea that death comes to you however you want it to. So it centers around this guy, The Patient, who is dying of cancer and his strongest memory from childhood is when his father took him to see a marching band, so that’s how death comes for him.”

“That sounds amazing,” you said. You’d been planning on saying that anyway, since you couldn’t very well say it sucked, but hearing this unique concept and watching Gerard’s eyes light up when he spoke about it totally won you over.

Gerard smiled, his cheeks turning pink. “Thank you. We’re all really excited to start touring on it and promoting it. I think the title track’s going to become a staple for us.”

“I think so too,” you said, smiling at him and leaning forward slightly to brace your elbows on your thighs.

You asked a few other questions, but everything blurred and you hoped the interview was going well and you weren’t blowing your big shot. All you could focus on was the way Gerard was looking at you. It felt like you were the only two people in the room.

“So, my next question might cause some arguments,” you said, giving them a sly smile. “It might even break up the band.”

Their eyes widened and they chuckled.

“Can’t be worse than all the questions about what turns us on,” Ray said.

Gerard made a choking sound in the back of his throat, his wide hazel eyes boring into the side of Ray’s face.

“It’s not that,” you promised. “But I’m curious, who is the most annoying to live with on tour?”

They all began talking over each other and bickering and laughing, until Frank raised his hand.

You laughed. “Yes, Frank?”

“Me first,” he said. “So Gerard and Mikey don’t like to shower and they have stinky pits.”

“Oh yeah? Well, Frank’s always climbing into people’s bunks uninvited,” Gerard said.

“I get lonely!” Frank cried.

“I’d just like to say that I’m the least annoying out of all of us,” Ray said.

“And Bob’s not even here to defend himself,” Mikey said.

“Screw Bob, he’s the most annoying!” Frank cried.

You laughed. “Okay, okay, so the consensus is Bob’s the most annoying?”

“Yeah, he is. Annoying little man from Chicago,” Frank grumbled.

“Little?” Ray scoffed. “You’re like half his size!”

“Yes, but I make up for it in looks,” Frank said, puffing out his chest.

“Gerard,” you said, turning to him. He turned his hazel eyed gaze to you. “You haven’t made a bid for the most annoying band member.”

“That’s because he knows he is,” Mikey said and Gerard reached over to shove him.

Soon, the interview was over and you managed to close things out in a professional, yet cool way, despite the fact that you were all too aware of the way Gerard was watching you again.

As they were walking out, Gerard wandered back to you, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yes?” You replied.

“I uh…” He looked away to where the rest of the band were waiting. They were watching the two of you, as if expecting something. Frank made a hand motion at Gerard as if to say “go on, get on with it!”

“What is it?” You asked.

Gerard sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Listen, I know you’re at work and everything and I didn’t want to hit on you while you were doing your job, but--”

“Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?” You asked.

He blushed, grinning at you. “Wasn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Just thought I’d put you out of your misery,” you said.

“I appreciate it.”

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #my chemical romance #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance imagine

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Two // Wanda Maximoff

chapter one | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter three

author’s note: thank you so much for the feedback on chapter one, everyone! i really appreciate and I’m glad you’re excited for more. hope you enjoy :)

"What do you think of this one?"

I pulled a face, shaking my head. My brother sighed dramatically before moving along the display cabinet, searching for the perfect ring.

Just as he'd said at dinner the other night, we were browsing engagement rings for Wanda, and I was (obviously) hating every second of it. My parents thought it would be good to help Y/B/N whilst also getting me more involved in the whole wedding thing; and I couldn't exactly say no to them, so here I was, half interested in what we were doing.

"What if I can't find anything?" Y/B/N asked, chewing the inside of his cheek as he continued to look. "This is the third jewellers we've been to, Y/N."

Figuring it was time to actually make an effort and be a supportive sister, I rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You'll find something," I told him confidently. "It just needs to come to you, y'know? She'll love anything you pick."

He smiled at me. "Thanks. I just don't want to disappoint her. The last thing I want to worry about is her hating the ring."

I chuckled, rounding the cabinet to get a look at a different display. "I doubt she'll hate any of this. Girls love jewellery. This is pretty good jewellery."

"Y/N, you hate jewellery," he pointed out with amusement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"I don't hate it," I defended. "I'm just not a fan of shopping for it."

He snickered as he continued to peruse the cabinets. "Well, Wanda seems to love it. D'you see how many rings she was wearing that night?"

I breathed out through my nose, definitely remembering. It was hard to forget when her ring-adorned fingers were brushing the top of my hand every few minutes. But obviously I wasn't going to say that to Y/B/N, so I hummed in response.

It went quiet as I tried to find a ring that would suffice. Rings weren't my taste, personally. I was more of a necklace person, so this was just as difficult for me as it was for Y/B/N. They all looked similar to me though, upon closer inspection, had different engravings and patterns in the gold and silver bands.

"So, what did you think of Wanda's brother?" Y/B/N asked, earning my attention.

He was smiling cheekily as he awaited a response.

"Pietro?" I asked with creased brows. He nodded and I continued, "He was nice, I guess. Has a sense of humour."

My brother gave me a knowing look as he looked at the glass display once again. "He's unmarried you know."

"No, thank you," I answered instantly, not particularly fond of discussing my potential marital future with my brother.

"Oh, don't be like that, Y/N," he said with a laugh. "I'm just looking out for you!"

I drummed my fingers on the cabinet top. "Well, I didn't ask you to. I'm perfectly content as I am."

Y/B/N cocked his head to the side as he glanced at me. "You know you can't stay unmarried forever." I opened my mouth to say something, but he was quick to continue. "And no, not because a woman should marry no matter what. But rather because you will most definitely give mum a heart attack."

I closed my mouth, trying to come up with a response, but my shoulders sank at the truth to his words. He half-smiled when he knew I knew he was right.

"I don't want to think about this now," I decided, waving my hand. "Ring. Look. Now."

He laughed again but nodded and stayed quiet. We both continued to have a look around until I was surprisingly certain that I'd found the perfect ring. There was a case filled with rings holding precious gemstones and a particular one stood out to me.

"Hey, Y/B/N, come here," I called him over, eyes never leaving the ring as I moved closer to inspect it. "What about this one?"

Pointing to the glass case, I chose an elegant silver band with a small, non-dominating emerald gemstone sat on top. It wasn't too flashy nor too plain and something told me that it might just be Wanda's taste.

"It'll match her eyes," I said, watching him as he leaned forward to get a better look. "She'll love it."

My brother seemed confused as he straightened up. "I thought her eyes were brown."

I rolled my eyes, taking a step back. "Fine, get a brown ring."

He tried not to laugh as he raised his hands with defeat. "Okay, okay, I believe you, no need for the sarcasm!" He proceeded to call the shopkeeper over to get the ring and glanced at me once more. "You're one hundred percent sure she's got green eyes?"

"Well, they're hazel, but this will definitely compliment them," I assured him, making him shrug as he looked back to the shopkeeper.

To my own dismay, I was certain her eyes were hazel. They were very inviting and the dinner the other night was evidence of that, as I found myself unable to look away whenever she found my gaze. Hopefully she'd like the ring, I guess.

—

The bothersome thing about my brother's engagement was just how many celebrations that followed. A week after the dinner came the engagement party, a celebratory evening with all of our family and friends and my brother's many admirers. The Maximoffs invited their friends, too, sadly not having any extended family to invite as it was only them here in England.

It was an expensive affair, but so was everything when it came to my brother. There was food, drinks, dancing, gifts and much more for the newly-engaged couple, and I once again found myself dressed in an uncomfortable dress of my mother's choice.

If that wasn't enough of a punishment, I was also reunited with my extended family whom only showed their faces on glamorous occasions such as this one. It's not that I didn't like them, but I felt like I rarely knew them, especially when they shared stories from when they used to see me as a baby and expected me to remember the memory like it was yesterday.

I found myself victim to yet another relative at the start of the evening. This time, it was one of my aunties from my father's side whom I vaguely recognised from my childhood. She'd found me by the snacks table where I was recovering from a previous encounter with a cousin of mine, and immediately began pulling my cheeks and reminiscing on how chubby and cute they were when I was – you guessed it – a baby.

"Auntie, I think that–"

"So grown up, but still so cute!" she gushed, cutting me off and proceeding to yank my cheeks so hard that they began to hurt.

I winced, trying to back away, but she dragged me closer by the face, making me groan with displeasure.

"Y/N, there you are!"

The only reason I knew it was Wanda who called for me was because of her Russian accent, otherwise I was still unable to turn and check because my auntie had me trapped. When Wanda came into sight, stopping by the two of us, my auntie finally let go, now distracted by the brunette. I exhaled gratefully, hands rubbing my cheeks to relieve the ache. I had no doubts they were red from the pinching. God, I hated family reunions.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt," Wanda apologised with an endearing smile as she looked to my auntie, "but please may I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?"

My auntie nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, dear! You're family now! Do whatever you like."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she said that. Wanda flashed her a final smile before tugging me away, near some deserted high table.

"What did you need?" I asked, quirking a brow.

She was looking around the room when I asked her, before her eyes focused on me. Unlike me, she seemed very comfortable in this environment, and the dress she wore was perfect for her. A scarlet-coloured gown that put anybody else's clothes here to shame. Did she just look good in everything or something?

"I didn't actually need anything," she answered, licking her lips. "I just saw your auntie harassing you and figured you'd like the escape."

Surprised at her observant nature, I cleared my throat and relaxed my shoulders. "Oh, well thanks."

She smiled widely, teeth shining and eyes sparkling and I was now beginning to think she truly had no flaws.

"You look beautiful tonight by the way," she said, and there was nobody around to hear it which made me think she wasn't trying to kiss up like I'd assumed initially.

"Thanks," I returned with a small smile. "I– er– so do you. Is that your favourite colour?"

She was wearing a similar colour the first night we met, so I could only assume it was. Which was a good choice, since she looked good in it.

She glanced down at her dress and nodded. "Something like that."

I leaned on the table as I watched her curiously. "Shouldn't you be with Y/B/N?"

Looking back up, she grinned mischievously. "You trying to get rid of me already?"

Shaking my head, I tried to find the words to say that I wasn't and she'd misinterpreted, but she was doing that thing again where she wouldn't look away first, her eyes glowing with amusement. If I wasn't certain before today that her eyes were a bright hazel colour, I definitely was now.

"I'm kidding," she finally said, laughter spilling from her lips. It was a sweet sound and I suddenly envied my brother for being able to hear it whenever he pleased.

"I just thought that you would be together since it's your engagement party," I explained, a little more flustered than I'd wanted to be.

Her lips pressed together in a suppressed smile as she nodded behind me. I spun around, following her gaze, and spotted my brother across the room charming some guests with, no doubt, another epic tale of his career.

"He seems to be doing fine on his own, milaya," Wanda whispered into my ear, making me freeze at the warmth of her breath tickling my skin.

Shivers ran down my spine as she was close enough for her perfume to infiltrate my nose. Swallowing hard, trying not to be very much attracted to her accent when she spoke English but also Russian, I took a moment to breathe out and clear my head of thoughts containing the Maximoff woman. When I was sure I was okay, I craned my neck to speak to her, only to feel my mouth go dry.

She was stood very close to me still, a teasing smirk on her lips. Up close, her eyes were intoxicating, drawing me in and making me forget where we were and what we were talking about.

"Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" she asked quietly, feigning innocence, her accent thicker than usual.

My lips parted as I tried to say something, but her eyes were distracting and her lips were curved upwards perfectly and I suddenly forgot how to speak English.

She chuckled, stepping back slightly, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress as Wanda watched me with amusement.

"Your mother is calling you," she said, nodding behind me. And then I heard my mother indeed calling my name. "I'll leave you to it. Try not to fall victim to another family member."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes falling to her mouth as she bit her lower lip to contain a smile. What was she getting out of this? Did she find joy in making me flustered or was she actually flirting right now? The latter couldn't be possible... she was going to marry my brother. This was her engagement party for crying out loud! She was definitely enjoying making me stumble over myself.

"Right," I spoke, finally finding my words.

With a quick nod, I looked away and followed the sound of my mother's voice. I was unsure why I felt the need to look over my shoulder, but when I did, I saw Wanda watching me still, eyes gleaming even with the distance. I looked away instantly, hoping this weird, flirtatious behaviour of hers would cease soon. I wasn't sure I could take anymore of it.

—

The evening was going well following Wanda's (what I was now calling) tormenting. I stuck to myself when my mother wasn't dragging me around, forcing me to mingle with family friends.

Tucked in the corner with a book I'd managed to sneak along was a good pastime, until halfway through the evening, everybody was brought to the front of the room for an announcement. I almost missed it if it weren't for Pietro finding me and trying not to laugh at my complete disconnect from the event around me.

"They're exchanging the rings," he told me, pulling me from my table and to the front. "Family's got to be there. Including you, Y/N."

I rushed to put my bookmark between my pages as he tugged me along, finally stopping by the front of the crowd alongside our mothers. Standing before everyone were our fathers and the engaged couple themselves, all smiling and putting on the perfect show.

"We are privileged to announce the engagement and union of my beloved daughter, Wanda Maximoff, and everybody's favourite author, Y/B/N Y/L/N," Oleg announced proudly, glass of champagne in his hand.

Both Y/B/N and Wanda exchanged smiles before looking out to everyone. When my brother's eyes met mine, I smiled encouragingly, and when Wanda's eyes met mine, my smile faded as she grinned my way, eyes saying a thousand things, none of which I could decipher.

"They will now present each other with the rings," my dad said, making the crowd chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

All eyes were on the couple as they presented their rings. Wanda had gotten Y/B/N a plain silver band, perfect for the guy who wasn't a fan of jewellery, and he wore it with pride. Then Y/B/N offered up the ring we'd picked in the store and Wanda's smile was as wide as ever when she saw it.

He placed it on her ring finger and she studied it once more, the emerald sparkling under the light and making all the women in the crowd jealous. She pulled him in for a grateful hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and I found myself looking away, not particularly a fan of them getting cosy.

"Gross, right?" Pietro asked, nudging me in the arm slightly. He was trying not to laugh as he avoided looking at the couple up front. "Like, we get it, you're engaged."

A smile appeared on my lips as I glanced at the silver-haired publisher, appreciating his attempt to make me laugh.

"Gross indeed," I agreed.

He rolled his eyes playfully before looking forward again, watching as my father continued to make a speech about how great it was to unify our families.

I listened in, though I'd heard the same spiel several times at home when they'd initiated the idea in the first place. Judging from the look on Pietro's face, he'd heard the same, and I was glad it wasn't just me who felt icky about this whole thing.

This evening couldn't end any sooner.

—

"I just don't understand why I need to go," I complained to my mother.

She was sat before her mirror, finishing applying her makeup and looking presentable for the girl's trip she'd planned for Iryna, Wanda, herself and I.

"Because you're going to become Wanda's sister-in-law and we are all going to become a family," she said like it was obvious, not bothering to look my way. "It'll be fun, Y/N."

I groaned quietly, leaning against the doorframe. A servant fussed around my mother's room, tidying up the mess of clothes she'd left in her wake from picking an outfit. I watched her with boredom, knowing I'd take that job over today's plans any day.

"You might make a new friend with Wanda," my mum continued delightfully. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

I tensed my jaw, eyes narrowing into the window ahead. "Yeah, really nice, mum."

"Good, now go and w–" she began, but was cut off when the doorbell rang from downstairs. Waving her hand, she said, "Go greet the Maximoffs whilst I finish up here, dear."

I sighed, straightening up. "Do I have a choice?"

"Don't forget to smile!" she called after me.

Making my way downstairs, I saw one of our servants opening the door and greeting the Maximoffs politely before letting them inside. Upon spotting me descending the staircase, Iryna smiled brightly.

"Y/N, dear, how lovely to see you!" she exclaimed, and when I got to the bottom, she pulled me in for a surprise hug. "How are you doing this morning, my dear?"

After recovering from the surprise hug, ignoring the way Wanda stifled laughter from behind her mother, I stepped back and gave the older woman a genuine smile.

"I'm doing good, Miss Maximoff," I said, and when she gave me a stern look, I backtracked, remembering her words from the engagement party a few nights ago. "Iryna– right, sorry. I'm doing good. And yourself?"

"Very good now that we're here," she said cheerfully, before nodding for Wanda to join her side. "Wan, what are you doing there? Come and give your sister-in-law a hug the right way!"

I gulped as Wanda did as her mother said, stepping forward without hesitation and pulling me in for a quick hug. Not wanting to look like an idiot, I wrapped my arms around her torso, hoping I wasn't as stiff as I felt. Once again, she smelt really good and I forgot how to breathe.

"Good morning, milaya," she muttered in my ear before pulling away with a harmless smile.

"Morning," I got out, being sure to avoid her gaze as I looked back to her mother. "Can I offer either of you a cup of tea? Or a drink? My mother is just finishing getting ready."

"No need, Y/N!" my mum called as she walked down the stairs behind me. Wearing an apologetic smile, she looked to Iryna and Wanda. "Sorry about that, ladies. I'm all ready to go if you are."

After sharing a greeting with them, my mum led us all outside to the carriage that was waiting to take us into town. We got in and were soon on our way to have the time of our life! (Cue the sarcasm).

"So, Y/N," Iryna said, and I looked up to see her sat beside Wanda who was sat opposite me. "What are your thoughts on this whole engagement? It was quite the affair the other night!"

I forced a smile as I nodded respectfully. "It was a great evening, Iryna. A great start to a successful marriage, I'm sure."

That seemed to start Iryna on a tangent about the engagement and how lovely the evening was and all of the new family members she met on our side. A sigh escaped my lips as I practically relived it with her retelling, making my mum nudge me in the arm gently but scoldingly.

"...and the ring!" Iryna enthused, not noticing my disinterest. "Don't get me started on the ring. Is there anything Y/B/N isn't good at?"

I could name a few things, yes.

With difficulty, I pressed my lips together to stop myself from cracking a knowing smile. Iryna told Wanda to hold out her hand so she could take another look, and as she did, it was the first time I'd seen the ring up close since she'd been given it. I glanced between the ring and her eyes and knew I'd made the right decision.

My mother began to shower Wanda in compliments – "Oh, it matches your eyes, dear! It's like it's meant to be!" – as I sat back and wished we'd arrive at the shops already.

"Between us ladies," my mum said playfully to Wanda, "is it good enough or did you expect something better?"

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "I didn't have any expectations, Y/M/N. I would have been happy with whatever Y/B/N picked. But this... this is absolutely stunning. He clearly put a lot of thought into it."

Yes, of course he did. So thoughtful, isn't he? Especially his attention to detail, like when he remembered the colour of your eyes.

Oh, wait.

After what felt like forever, we finally reached the shops and could escape that shrinking carriage for a few minutes before heading into a dress shop to suffocate yet again.

As usual, I followed my mother around like a lost puppy, letting her take the lead with picking some clothes. She was deep into conversation with Iryna, the two of them bonding instantly as they talked about their interests and marriage and their children's engagement.

At one point, I left them to it, resorting to browsing through a rack that had some pretty pastel dresses hanging from it. I didn't have plans to buy anything since I didn't need anything, but it didn't hurt to look.

"Hey," Wanda's voice echoed from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see her joining my side.

"Hey," I replied, continuing to look through the dresses.

She browsed through the rack also, going through each dress slowly as she smiled to herself. "So, you don't like shopping I take it."

I hummed in agreement. "Not really."

She nodded, continuing her browsing. "You don't like parties either. Or dinners." I hummed again and she continued, "And you don't like it when your brother gets all the attention."

I hummed subconsciously, before realising what she said. Stopping my browsing, I looked to her with furrowed brows. "I never said that."

Mischief dancing in her eyes, she glanced me way and winked playfully. "You didn't need to."

Clenching my jaw slightly, I busied myself with going through the hangers, hoping the heat creeping up my neck would disperse. I wasn't going to let Wanda get to me yet again. It was like she had some kind of magic spell on me, making me unable to think straight whenever she was in my vicinity.

"I know you picked my ring by the way," she said after a moment of silence.

I licked my lips and played dumb, not looking her way. "What do you mean? Y/B/N chose it."

She snickered. "I know it was you, Y/N. No man in the world is that thoughtful."

I stayed quiet, figuring it was my best option. She seemed to find this entertaining as she turned to face me, leaning against the rack and watching me curiously.

"I must ask though. Why emerald?"

Fingers playing with the fabric of the dress before me, I shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not?"

She laughed, and it was the second time she'd done so so freely, making the pit of my stomach flip uncontrollably at the sound.

"You don't seem like the type to just do things," she observed. "There had to be a reason. Please enlighten me."

Once again, I shrugged as I made sure not to look her way. I wasn't planning to get sucked in by her killer eyes yet again.

"I'm not blind," I told her casually. "I saw it and remembered that you have hazel eyes that sometimes look green. I thought it would suit you. A mere artistic observation."

"Ah, I see," she said with a nod, playing along. "Well, you have good taste. Thank you. I adore it."

"It was nothing," I assured her, hoping she couldn't hear my heart beating ever-so-quickly in my chest. The longer she watched me, the more flustered I got.

Suddenly, she stepped forward, her hand resting on the small of my back. The simplest of touches had me paralysed, at a loss for words, frozen in place. Mentally I knew that it wasn't right that she made me react like this. But my body wouldn't listen to my brain and Wanda seemed to realise that, clearly revelling in my misery.

"So, you remembered my eye colour after just two meetings, huh?" she asked lightheartedly, leaning in, her hand still pressed to my back gently.

Finally finding the ability to stand my ground, I said, "I'm very observant," and I turned to look at her to show her that whatever game she was playing wasn't going to work anymore. Of course, that was a huge mistake, because as soon as my eyes locked with hers, I lost all resolve.

"That you are," she noted with a smirk, before her hand dropped to her side and she nodded to the long-forgotten dress in my hand. "You should get it. It suits you."

And with that comment, she left me alone to join our mothers yet again. I breathed out shakily, realising that Wanda Maximoff was becoming a bigger issue than I thought.

After purchasing some new dresses from several stores (no, I didn't buy the dress Wanda wanted me to), the four of us stopped by a café for a spot of lunch. Despite the flustered mess I became whenever Wanda gave me more attention than we both know she should have, I was having an okay time.

Iryna was very sweet, wanting to get to know me since we would be family soon, and made me feel at ease whenever she could. My mother was too distracted by her and Wanda's presence to tell me off for complaining, and it was just genuinely kind of nice to get out.

I was drinking a cup of tea as we waited for our food order when my mum tried to get the details on Wanda's newly-planned date with my brother in a few days.

"You're going to the theatre, right?" she asked Wanda eagerly, as if she didn't already know everything anyway.

Y/B/N had talked about this literally last night at dinner. It was to be Wanda's and his first official date, and the first real opportunity away from family and prying eyes to get to know each other better.

"Yes, he got tickets to see a new play I've never heard of," she admitted with a chuckle. "It'll be a chance to get to know him better. The only things I know of him are what my family have told me and what I've learnt from everyone around us."

Iryna smiled as she watched her daughter, whilst my mother waved her hand optimistically.

"Oh, I'm sure the date will go splendidly," she assured Wanda. "It's no secret that you're both very attractive, young adults. If there are no sparks between you, then we're all done for."

At this comment, Iryna and my mother both erupted into laughter, like it was some kind of joke that only middle-aged women seemed to get. I raised my eyebrows and dropped them behind a cup of tea, figuring it was best to stay quiet.

"I'm sure it will," Wanda said in agreement, though her voice was quieter, unable to be heard behind their laughter.

Surprisingly, I found myself intrigued by this rarely seen version of Wanda. It was a similar version to the one I'd seen the night of the dinner, when I showed her around upstairs and the conversation of my brother crept in. It wasn't hard to forget her ability to dance around the question to whether she liked him or not.

And now, she seemed to wear a false smile as she mulled over their date. I guess it was strange to see since I naturally figured she'd want to marry him – pretty much any woman in the city did – but maybe that wasn't the case.

"...tell her what he's like," my mother insisted, pulling me away from my observation. "You're his sister. Who better than you to give her an idea?"

Realising what she was saying, I tried not to choke on my tea. I lowered the cup and shook my head calmly, though the intent was very much urgent.

"She should just see," I said uncertainly. "I mean, what better way to know than to just speak to him?"

One deathly glance from my mother and I straightened up, looking to the Maximoffs before me.

"But if I was to say something," I continued smoothly, making my mother relax at my words, "I'd say that my brother has always been a very respectful man. He's kind-hearted and he's caring."

Iryna was hanging onto my every word whilst Wanda stared at me but seemed elsewhere.

"And he's really excited to get to know you better, Wanda," I said truthfully, looking to the oddly-quiet brunette with a small reassuring smile. "He really likes you."

Iryna mentioned something about Y/B/N being just the man her Wanda deserves, but I was barely paying attention as I looked to the girl in question. She returned my smile, void of teasing or mischief like usual, and nodded quickly before looking down to her own cup of tea.

She was certainly a strange one.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #marvel #marvel imagine

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

Sixty Six Percent [Spencer x fem! Reader]

A/N - This is for my “girls night out” square on my CM bingo card for @cmbingo, which you can find the masterlist for here. Also loosely based off this prompt I’ve been wanting to write for a while - Our best friends are that awful “cute” couple that make out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and god they’re awful, let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “oh we’re that awful couple now”. Includes some Galvez and is set circa season 14 ish. Bottom right image taken from Kirsten’s Instagram.

CW - not much really - just drinking and fluff.

In which girls night takes an unexpected turn when it coincides with boys night.

WC: 2.2K

Find my full Masterlist here.

Western’s bar in DC on a Friday night had been a must for girls night out. It was known for its cheap drinks, loud music and packed dance floor. Everything you and the girls were looking for.

When your closest friends worked for the FBI, arranging girls night was always a near impossible feat. You’d lost count of how many times Penelope, Emily, JJ and Tara had to bail on your plans because another case had come up.

You understood, you’d been best friends with Penelope for years now and you appreciated their schedules were hectic but you were always left downtrodden when they’d had to cancel again.

But finally after weeks of cancellations and rescheduling, tonight they had been free for girls night.

Shots were flowing and you all showed off your moves on the dance floor. You and Tara being the only single ones of the group danced with a few men but it was all harmless flirting, nothing serious.

You weren’t looking to take someone home tonight.

It was nearing midnight and you had all taken a break from dancing to rehydrate with vodka. You noticed Penelope’s eyes shift away from the girls across the room and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it, Pen?” You asked her, having to speak loudly to be heard over the music.

“We can’t just have one night.” She rolled her eyes but then her face broke out into a large smile. “Excuse me.” And with that she sauntered off.

Your gaze followed where she had gone to see her throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend, Luke Alvez.

You chuckled to yourself, nudging Emily in the arm.

“They just can’t stay away from each other can they?” You laughed.

“It’s disgusting really.” Emily also laughed.

“Looks like they're having a boys night. We should probably go and say hi.” JJ shrugged.

“I suppose it would be rude not to.” Tara agreed.

The four of you followed in Penelope’s footsteps across the room. You’d met most of the team over the years thanks to Penelope and you said your hellos to Luke, Rossi and Matt.

The last man you came to had incredible hazel eyes, which even in the dim lighting of the bar you could see were flecked with gold. He had a light stubble on his cheeks and untamed curls you had a sudden desire to run your fingers through.

Spencer Reid, you assumed. You’d heard of him countless times but for whatever reason the two of you had never met. You got the impression he avoided social situations in lieu of more academic pursuits.

You’d heard stories of his time in prison and looking at him now it struck you that there was a hint of sadness in those hazel eyes and you assumed that must be why.

“You must be Spencer.” You smiled a little shyly at him. You had no idea he’d be so attractive. “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at you but you noticed it was stifled. Like he knew the fact you knew his name meant you knew what had happened to him.

“Yes, I’m Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N, I can’t believe we’ve never met before.” Despite the sadness about him, his eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you and it made you feel hot under the collar.

“Me either.” You couldn’t help but beam, had Penelope been hiding him from you? He was just your type.

You turned to look at your friends briefly but were surprised to find them gone. Tara, Emily, JJ and Matt were now dancing in the middle of the floor while Rossi propped up the bar, sipping his single malt.

A few feet from where you were standing with Spencer, Luke and Penelope were swapping saliva in an extremely NC-17 fashion.

He had his hands on her voluptuous backside and her fingers were clawing at his shirt.

“Are they always like this?” You turned back to Spencer with a grimace.

He shrugged.

“Not always but often enough not to be phased by it anymore.” He chucked a little.

“Young love.” You laughed too.

“They’re actually pretty cute when they aren’t pushing the boundaries of public displays of affection.”

“Pen always refers to him as bunny, it makes me sick.” You laughed harder.

“Oh gosh.” Spencer pulled a face. “They flirt over the phone on cases all the time. It takes forever to get an answer out of Garcia because they have to flirt in every single call.”

“I bet he hasn’t described to you their sex life in graphic detail. Because Penelope has.” You shudder a little. “I know more about Luke’s anatomy than I ever needed to know.”

“That’s...that’s unfortunate.” Spencer laughed.

“Yeah that’s one way to put it.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” His smile was much less sad now, and more genuine as he looked at you. The way he was smiling at you made you feel weak.

“That would be really nice.” You nodded.

You followed Spencer to the bar where he ordered you both a drink and paid. He then led you over to a small booth away from the chaos where you sat next to him to allow you to be able to converse over the music. At least that’s what you told yourself.

It had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to be close to him. Absolutely nothing.

“One time we were on a case in Boston and I called Garcia and for whatever reason she thought I was Luke and she started graphically describing what she was going to do to me, Luke when I got home. It was...disturbing to say the least.”

“Oh wow. That sounds...horrible.” You laughed.

“I’ve not been able to properly look her in the eye since.” Spencer pulled a face.

“They are the definition of sickening. But they’re happy. I guess that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, sipping your drink. “They’re lucky, one night stands have never worked out that well for me.”

“No?” Spencer looked inquisitive. “I’ve never had one.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought everyone had had at least one.”

“Statistically only sixty six percent of American’s have had a one night stand before.”

“I forgot Penelope told me you were a genius.” You laughed again. “That’s a surprisingly low number.”

“It’s still over two hundred and sixteen million people.” he didn’t even look as though he had to think to know something like that. You were impressed and felt slightly inadequate in comparison to him.

“Oh, in that case I suppose it is a lot.” you didn’t really know what you could say to that. “Can I ask why you’ve never had a one night stand?”

Spencer contemplated his answer this time. Facts and statistics rolled off his tongue but when he had to speak of personal things it often took him a moment to find the right thing to say.

“I suppose I’m a romantic at heart. One night stands seem kind of...disheartening to me. I’m not saying never but I’ve never felt the need thus far in my life.”

“See I don’t agree.” you turned in your seat so you could look at him properly. This close you could really see his incredible bone structure, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. You wanted to run your fingertips over the delicate curves of his face, kiss the stubble on his soft skin and make your way to those plump lips of his. “Being single is hard, especially when your best friend is Penelope who is and is all loved up with Alvez. One night stands provide a little solace from the loneliness I guess.” you shrugged, trying not to sound like you were throwing a pity party for yourself.

“But isn’t it just lonely all over again when it's over?” Spencer leaned closer to you and your eyes were fixated on his lips.

“I don’t know.” mirroring him, you leaned closer. “We could always find out.” you smirked at him. You had just met him and you knew being so brazenly flirtatious could be dangerous territory. But you’d gone all these years without ever crossing paths so you supposed if this went south and Spencer rebuffed you then avoiding him wouldn’t be that difficult.

His facial expression didn’t change so you had no idea what he was thinking or how he had taken your advances. He leaned even closer and your eyes were still locked on his lips.

“Are you asking me to come home with you Y/N?” his eyes were dark, lust perhaps?

“I’m asking you to join the sixty six percent Spencer.”

For a few long seconds neither of you moved or spoke. Spencer eyes fell over you, lingering longer on your lips. You shifted a little in your seat feeling hot under his intense gaze. He leaned even closer and you thought he was about to kiss you, but just as he inched towards you, a voice snapped you back to reality.

“Y/N there you are!” it was Emily. “And Spence, hey.”

“Hi Emily, what’s up?” you would never forgive her if she had gotten in the way of Spencer kissing you.

“Come and dance, it's girls night!” she tugged your arm, pulling you so you were on your feet.

Spencer shuffled out of the booth behind you. As Emily started dragging you towards the dancefloor, he came close to your ear and whispered “I’ll come and find you later.” and then he headed over towards Rossi who was still propping up the bar.

You danced with the girls for hours, even Penelope when she came up for air and pried herself away from Luke for more than a few seconds. The drinks kept flowing, laughter was aplenty; it was a great night all round. It had been worth waiting for.

Around three am you and the girls decided to call it night. You were a little tipsy and your feet hurt from all the dancing. You had lost track of Spencer earlier in the night, you were a little disappointed but it was probably for the best. A one night stand with your best friend's colleague would no doubt only end in disaster.

You said your goodbyes outside, hugs and cheek kisses were dished out and they all promised you would have another girls night as soon as their schedules allowed. You lived on the other side of town than the girls so you waved off their cab from the curb and awaited the next one. It wasn’t long before another cab pulled up and to your confusion the rear window rolled down as it came to a stop.

“Told you I’d find you later.” Spencer smiled at you from the backseat.

You tried to hide your blush as you slid in next to him.

“I thought you left.” you buckled yourself in and almost immediately Spencer took hold of your hand.

“Not without you.” he leaned closer and then his lips pressed against yours in the backseat of the cab and you felt your whole body turn to jelly at the sensation. He used his free hand to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

You felt a jolt of electricity coarse through you, something you had never felt before. Your lips moved in such a synchronized fashion it was crazy to think you had never done this before. You felt as though you’d waited your entire life for this moment.

The kiss lasted a few minutes and when it ended you both panted slightly, trying to grasp at the air that had escaped your lungs. He kept his hand on your cheek, stroking small circles on your skin with his thumb.

“Are you ready to join the sixty six percent club Spencer?” you smirked at him in the dark.

He kissed you again, softly this time, more cautiously.

“I’m quite comfortable in the minority. And I already know I am not going to be able to settle for one night with you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and the loving look he was giving you. You squeezed his hand, kissing him once more.

“If you take me for breakfast in the morning, you can have as many nights as you like.” you winked at him which made him blush a little.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, my love.”

“Thirty four percent it is then.” you laughed, settling your head on Spencer’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head.

You would have to berate Penelope for not introducing you to Spencer sooner. But you might also need to cut her and Luke some slack, because you had a feeling you and Spencer were going to become an awful, cutesy couple just like them. But when it was happening to you, you didn’t mind so much. Maybe you’d even let Spencer call you bunny…

...On second thoughts, maybe not. Somethings would never change. You’d leave the cringey nicknames to Penelope and Luke. At least for now anyway. Tomorrow was another day.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #penelope garcia #luke alvez #emily prentiss #tara lewis #jennifer jareau #david rossi #matt simmons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

What We Inherit - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: Ushijima’s childhood has a greater effect on him than he lets on and you only just start to realize once you meet his parents. (~2.6k words)

Warnings: divorce discussion, angst with a soft ending, character study of a sort?, sfw

A/N: Ushijima needs more background so here’s me trying to grasp at straws for an understanding of his character.

---

Ushijima favors his mother, you realize suddenly.

Not favor in a preference sort of way - while you can tell he’s an attentive son (to the point that you are worried he is too much so, stiffer than usual and mildly anxious), you realize the reason why your gaze lingers a little too much on the details of her face and the way she walks when she rises out of her seat is because she is so much like him. Or rather, he is like her.

For some reason, this sudden recognition is groundbreaking.

After all, it’s odd to compare this small, unassuming woman to your boyfriend who frankly embodies strength, but the links of blood are there, and obviously so. You can see him in the same hazel eyes that seem to pierce through you, the smile that is soft and polite but restricted, and even the way she walks, back straight and shoulders squared in confidence but touched with a feminine grace.

When your eyes blink and reopen, he looks almost exactly like her.

“You took a long time to visit,” she admonishes him once he returns from storing away the fresh fruit he’d brought as gifts to sit beside you in the living room. Her tone is not exactly harsh but it’s not exactly teasing, and she doesn’t look at him while she speaks - she’s too focused on you. Before you can take the time to further dissect her sentence and decide if the tension you’re feeling in the air is imagined or not, she shifts gears.

“Is he good to you?” She asks you suddenly, her eyes that are his not leaving yours as she brings a cup of perfectly tepid tea to her lips.

It’s such a direct statement that you’re startled by it. It gets to the crux of your meeting without need for pleasantries; in fact, she hasn’t asked you anything past your name, and you wonder if it’s because she doesn’t care, if she plans to ask later or if Wakatoshi has told her all she needed to know about you.

You immediately eke out a “Yes, of course,” however, because it’s true. He is good to you. He’s been nothing but good to you for the past couple of years, and even though you’ve only been dating officially for the past year, he’s promised you he will continue to be this way for as long as he lives. It’s almost irresponsible that he says something so definitively, but you trust him with all your heart.

She seems satisfied with this answer because she smiles and sets her teacup on the table with barely a sound. “I’m glad.”

Her smile is like his too, you take note. When you turn to glance at Wakatoshi, he too is smiling down at you, filled to the brim with pride and affection.

---

The Ushijima family home had started off intimidating but had become warm, much like him, as time passed. That ease began with his mother relaxing out of a kneeling position into a seating position and finally asking you about yourself.

It turns out Wakatoshi had spoken to her about you, although some of her details were incorrect, and for with every clarification you ended up making, you could see his ears grow pinker and pinker by the second.

His mother, of course, didn’t notice, her eyes growing wide and nodding intently as you gave her more and more details about your life as though she were hearing things for the first time.

“I told you all these things, Mother,” he finally intercepted when he’d felt that the constant barrage of questions had started to overwhelm you, although it seemed he was the one being overwhelmed by the exchange between you two.

You gave him a glance in surprise, as did she, and then she nodded, folding her hands together, the stiffness and extreme formality returning slightly to her demeanor. It made you a little upset, the way she seemed to retreat back into her shell, and you pouted ever so slightly at him.

Picking up on your pout, his mother finally teased, “Wakatoshi-kun’s always been serious like that, ever since he was a child.”

It was a bit ironic to see this very poised woman also call her son ‘serious’, but you smiled weakly in response, reaching over to hold his hand.

There you noticed again that he was stiff even if his face was unreadable as always. For a split second, you wondered if there was a flash of resentment you saw in his features, but you decided that that too, you had imagined.

“I suppose I can show you some childhood photos. That’s what’s normally done at meetings like this, is that not so?”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose and whisked out of the room, leaving you and Toshi to each other.

Once she was out of earshot, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“She’s very nice, Toshi, you should have brought me sooner,” you whispered with a soft playful pat on his shoulder. He didn’t offer much but a soft hmph in response, so instead you scanned the room, taking in the sparse decorations in the living room.

Most of the decor was traditional and minimalistic and separating from Wakatoshi, you gravitated towards a display case in the corner. As expected, trophies and ribbons from his matches were proudly shown here along with other trinkets and knick-knacks.

What surprised you was a picture slightly tucked away in the corner of Wakatoshi, much smaller, smiling and clearly as carefree as any well-affirmed child would be, resting comfortably on the shoulders of a then-young man with a matching grin. Next to them was his mother, also younger, her hair loose and flowing, unlike the semi-neat bun she wore today, and just as genuinely happy as they were. Her arms wrapped affectionately around the man you presumed to be Ushijima’s father, and her eyes were almost closed, squinting cheerfully in the bright sun.

They looked so happy, you remarked. Even if it was in the past, it was a nice memory to be brought to the forefront, not something to be stashed away.

Unconsciously you reached for it for a closer look, not realizing your boyfriend was behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I found the album,” His mother announced, peeling your attention away from the snapshot in time. You still had the picture in your hands when you quickly went back to sit, and jokingly, you pointed out:

“I think I found a good one already!”

His mother took one glance and for a split second, you could see her placid demeanor break, but then she let out a soft chuckle without further comment, instead opening the heavy photo album to gush about her perfect son.

---

The short-lived shaken expression on once-Mrs. Ushijima’s face haunted you longer than you expected, and you found that you were still thinking about it long after you had left the home and were back home with your lover.

“Toshi,” you finally ventured to ask, now under the cover of night as you lay in bed together just moments before sleeping. He moved ever so slightly, his heavy arm shifting from draped over your shoulder to over your midsection to make it easier for you to turn to face him, which you did promptly in the dark. “Did your mother ever consider getting remarried?”

“I don’t think so.”

You paused, carefully choosing your next words. You wanted to ask him if what you’re sensing, he’s sensed, this very small bit of remorse that you picked up. Maybe it was too much to assume, so instead you end up saying nothing.

He picked up on your need to say more and interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your arm up so that he could press the back of your hand to his lips.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not upset about them, not at all. Besides, step-siblings might have made things complicated.”

What you wanted to ask was, does your mother regret it?

---

A year and a half later, in sunny California, you’re seated side-by-side with your Toshi and before you is a smiling man who looks every bit as cheerful as the man who carried his son on his shoulders in that single image burned in your memory.

Again, you realize Ushijima favors his father.

Admittedly, not as much as his mother, but you still see him in the broadness of his hands, the animated and focused way in which he talks about work, in the way he listens intently to your every word, although his eyes aren’t as sharp as Ushijima and his mother’s - they’re soft, round and brown and they’re surrounded by the beginnings of crow’s feet.

Ushijima is noticeably more relaxed around his father, you note, but the same bit of tension fills the warm air when Mr. Utsui asks you when the wedding is.

“We haven’t decided yet,” he cuts in, speaking for you now even though you had reached a steady pattern of conversation with his father. You’re a little bit annoyed at the curt way he interjects, but especially at the fact that he does this, when you’ve been not so subtly talking about marriage for a couple months now.

In fact, it’s when you shift from talking about your future together in grand terms (let’s buy a house, let’s have three kids, maybe a dog) and instead specifically bringing up when to be wed that you realize he cares more about his parents’ failed marriage then he lets on.

A ring didn’t stop them from separating, he insists. To you, it sounds initially like I don’t know if I want to marry you, but you know in the depth of your heart that he would choose you over himself any day.

But the concept of marriage itself bothers him and while you sympathize with him, it’s hard for you to let go of the idea of a ring, a pretty white dress, and taking his name.

It’s with that same premise that he’s visibly irritated by his father’s abrupt joke, and you and Mr. Utsui are both taken aback when you see the visibly irritated expression on his face, but his dad laughs loudly to defuse the situation.

“Jumping the gun there, aren’t I?” he says, reaching across the table to affectionately pat his son’s shoulder. “You just look so comfortable together! In fact, it reminds me of your mother and I back in the day.”

The statement meant to palliate him makes the situation all the more precarious.

Really, it’s careless the way his father says it so easily, and you can see the comment has hit something deep inside your Toshi by the very slight tension you see in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow. It’s as though, in a single sentence, his father has both denied his childhood pains and plainly uttered a curse onto your relationship, and Wakatoshi won’t allow it.

“Please refrain from comparing us to the two of you in any way from now on.”

His words are controlled, precise and seething, and you wince reflexively. The sugary sweet, half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of you no longer seems appetizing, but you pick off a blueberry with your fork and eat it to give you something to do while your heart pounds.

What will his father say in his defense?

“You’re right,” Takashi says - he wants you to call him by his first name because you are important to his son - with an understanding nod, his eyes still kind despite the fact that his son’s look is almost menacing, even if he doesn’t intend to be.

“You’re not at all like us.”

---

In the quiet aftermath of the tense brunch date, you finally decided to give up on the idea of a wedding.

You could argue that there was always therapy, but you weren’t sure to what extent the old wounds inflicted so early and so neatly tucked away could be healed with talk and introspection. No longer were they simply wounds but reminders of the following:

Marriages fail. Love doesn’t always last.

You inched a little closer to him as you walked together on the beach through the night, unsure if your increased need for closeness was related to the chill of the small breeze picking up from the waves or because you were starting to wonder if Ushijima’s father was wrong.

What if you were the same? What if you did end up like them? Thousands of miles apart, with uncomfortable painful memories of each other and a son who repressed his resentment… There was no way to know, was there?

You stopped suddenly, your heels digging into the sand as you broke the pregnant silence between you two.

“Toshi,” you murmured softly. Still holding your hand, he turned to face you, his eyebrows just slightly raised as he watched you in the moonlight.

“I won’t talk about marriage anymore. I get it now,” you finally decided, your voice wavering ever so slightly unlike your steadfast resolve.

He looked into your eyes, again trying to parse out what you were feeling from the slight knit in your eyebrows and the very slight tremor in your hands.

“It’s cold,” he replied simply, taking off his hoodie and putting it around you. “Here.”

You frowned as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, your hands curling into tight fists. If you were going to bend like this, he should at least acknowledge you!

“It’s still important to me, and I think we would be different, but I understand your feelings,” you insisted, staying in place.

He had to give you something, anything. It wasn’t selfish to ask for a little bit of credit, was it?

You saw him flash a small smile, then lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek. Before pulling back, he let out a small laugh, the first since hours earlier.

“You don’t want to get married anymore, sweetheart?” He teased, his arms rubbing up and down your shoulders, and your frown grew deeper. This was an odd time for one of his jokes.

“I’m being serious!” Your voice came out whinier than expected, to the point that you were almost embarrassed, but it only made his smile grow wider.

His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, making sure that all you could see was him, speaking sincerely to you under the night sky.

“That’s too bad because I bought a ring.”

Your heart stopped.

But then it restarted, and instead of shivers, a new warmth seemed to run throughout your entire body with every new beat in your chest.

“W-what?”

“I want to marry you.”

I want to marry you. The words seemed to bounce around your now empty head, making a ruckus you couldn’t exactly think through.

“But you said…?”

“I don’t need a ring to prove that I’ll love you forever, but if it’s important to you, I’ll work hard and buy you a ring for every single year we are together.”

He must have picked up the habit of saying careless and deliberate statements from his father because you were now choked up with tears that you couldn’t wipe away because your hands were too busy resting on his that held your emotional visage.

“T-Toshi…”

“We’ll be different from my parents, ____, I swear.”

You felt as though your heart would burst, so all you could do was nod. It didn’t help that his eyes seemed to shine far too much tonight as well. Was it just a trick of the moon or was he trying to convince himself too that he wouldn’t do you wrong?

“It’s true that I don’t have the ring on me, but I want to formally ask you today before I dare put a ring on your finger,

Will you marry me?”

Again you nodded, tears finally rolling down your cheeks in relief, because the answer had always been yes.

And you knew for sure, that the two of you would fight like hell to be happily married after.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #haikyuu imagine #sfw #fic: what we inherit #mae.writing

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downondilaudid · 4 years

Text

Anatomy Lesson

Reader has some sex trouble, out of all people to ask for help, she asks Spencer Reid.

Requested: Nope

Prompts: Nada

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: It’s pretty much just straight smut

“Good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” -- Mae West

Your head fell back against the plush pillow with an annoyed groan. You threw the vibrator to the side, watching it roll across the bed, once again you were unable to achieve an orgasm. It was almost always like this, even in past relationships you found yourself having to often fake orgasms. You definitely didn’t have a low libido, you considered your sex drive to be slightly above average, but an orgasm for you was hardly ever attainable, especially not solo.

Maybe it was the fact you had always been a sucker for rough sex, it was easier for you to come while being totally dominated. All of your past relationships had been fairly vanilla, they either weren’t into it or still couldn’t get you off.

You were desperate for an orgasm at this point, were you doing something wrong, was something wrong with you? You had to find out, you had exhausted all of your options. There was one thing left to try, you had to ask Spencer, I mean, he was your best friend, and a genius, he would know. He wouldn’t find it totally weird, right?

You had decided Friday would be the perfect day to ask him, Friday, at the end of the day, where you could avoid him until Monday if the conversation headed South.

“Hey, uh, Spence?” You questioned, luckily, by the grace of God, you were the last two packing up to head home after a long week.

“Hm?” A sugar-crashed Spencer answered.

“I have a question, it’s sort of-Oh God how do I word this?” There was no backing out now, you had to ask.

Spencer stopped what he was doing, his brows furrowed in concern. He laid his files onto his desk, walking around it briskly towards you. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“No-no-I just, I was just wondering” you took a deep breath, letting your words flow together as fast as possible “how unlikely is it for someone to be unable to achieve an orgasm during sex?”

Spencer’s face flushed slightly, automatically stuffing his hands into his pockets, a habit you had noticed he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “I-uh-well, I mean, statistically during- uhm, intercourse, only around 20% of women have an...o-orgasm, and around 5% of women never have orgasms during intercourse.”

You nodded your head, keeping your eyes trained on your desk, straightening a set of files. Well, that was good to know, there definitely wasn’t something wrong with you then. Maybe you just needed a man's touch, and, yes, that is a horrible thing to say. Usually, you weren’t so dependent, especially dependent on a man alone, but you needed some form of relief, and if a male could give it to you, then you would take it.

Spencer cleared his throat, “are you, uh, having t-trouble?”

For some reason you didn’t want to answer the question, the topic was already embarrassing enough, and admitting aloud that you were having trouble orgasming doubled that embarrassment. “Y/N?” Spence’s tentative voice brought you out of your stupor.

Huffing, you grabbed the files shoving them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You turned, continuing to look everywhere except at Spencer, beginning your trek to your car.

You were halfway to the elevator when Spencer caught up to you, his hand coming to lay on your shoulder. “Y/N, It’s nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, it’s quite normal, especially for someone who isn’t in a relationship.”

You pushed your shoulder back, moving away from his touch. “Let’s not talk about it, I shouldn’t have even asked, it was a stupid question.” You stepped into the elevator, Spencer hot on your trail.

“It’s not a stupid question, Y/N, it’s perfectly normal. Out of curiosity, are you just-is it just-vaginal penetration?” The elevator doors shut, and you were regretting ever asking the question.

“Nope, Spencer, it’s not.” You huffed. It shouldn’t be this uncomfortable to talk about your sex life, but this was Spencer we’re talking about. Spencer was practically asexual!

“Maybe you should try relaxing, your mind at least, sometimes if you’re distracted by other things it’ll become hard to achieve an orgasm. It’s actually the opposite for your body, a lot of women report feeling tension, especially in their abdomen and legs during or before an orgasm.” Spencer stated, watching as you walked out of the elevator, following after you.

Since when did Spencer get so open talking about sex? Sure he was a bit hesitant, but, to be honest, you didn’t even know if he was going to answer, let alone in this detail. “Thanks, Spence.” You said curtly, it was a little wrong for you to be so upset when you were the one who asked the question, but you were already stressed enough.

Here you were, one warm bath later, laying on your bed, butt naked, once again.

Still, you couldn’t orgasm. Shamefully, you had even gone as far as choking yourself, playing out one of the dirtiest fantasies you could think of in your head. When that didn’t work you switched to visuals, which definitely brought you closer to the edge, but wasn’t enough to push you over into the sweet bliss

Surprisingly Spencer didn’t say anything about your awkward encounter on Monday, or the rest of the week, until Friday. Once again, you and Spencer were the last two, Spencer had been going over the files from the most recent case, and you were filling out some paperwork, trying to get ahead of the load Hotch was going to give you next week.

“Spencer, it’s over. She’s safe, and that bastard is off to prison.”

He sighed deeply in response, one of his long slender fingers pressed thoughtfully against his lips. “I just don’t understand how I didn’t see it sooner.”

You scoffed, “Spencer, you may be a genius, but no one expects you to know everything, you don’t have to know everything. Spence, you’re going to kill yourself trying to figure out everything. You’re always so stressed, you just need to relax, let go, read a book, or listen to some music, do something that calms you.”

Spencer turned to you, his hazel eyes bearing into yours, “speaking of stressful, how’s your, uhm, problem?” His hands stuffed into his pockets comfortably.

You let out a short chuckle, as uncomfortable as talking about your sex life with Spencer was, the sight of Spencer flustered and stuttering was definitely humorous. “Spencer, stop trying to distract me, you need to stop stressing over closed cases.”

“So, you haven’t cum yet?” Spencer questioned, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

You swear your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, Spencer had never been that forward, especially not talking about sex, and especially not with you. Your mouth fell open, not completely sure how to respond.

“That was too forward, wasn’t it?” Spencer questioned, realization seeping through his voice.

You nodded your head, mouth still hung open.

“And you tried relaxing, but also simultaneously letting yourself be tense?”

“Yes, Spence.”

He went silent for a while, turning around and beginning to gather his things.

And you thought the conversation had ended, and he had decided to drop it, and hopefully go home and relax, but alas, you were wrong.

“You know, I could always, uhm, help you, i-if you want.” Spencer stuttered, his face flushing with an awkward smile.

At first, you thought you were hearing things, that sentence had not come out of Spencer’s mouth. You didn’t even know how to respond, he obviously wasn’t joking. I mean, sure, Spencer was very attractive, but you had never really thought of him as anything more than a friend.

“W-what do you mean?” You knew what he meant, at least you thought you did, but you didn’t want to risk being wrong.

Spencer grabbed his satchel, placing it across his body, “I mean I could help you, you know, help you, uh, o-orgasm.”

Holy Shit. You were right.

“W-we don’t have to, obviously, I just-it sounds frustrating, and I just-I want to help.” Spencer’s hands wrapped around the strap of his satchel, watching you with wary eyes.

“No-no, I get it, that-that’s very sweet, Spence, I just-won’t that change our friendship?”

Spencer shrugged, “not necessarily, Y/N, you’re my best friend, I want to help you. Plus it’ll be good for me too like you said, I need some sort of stress relief.”

You smiled, how on earth did you get so lucky to have a best friend like him, “thanks, Spence, that means a lot.”

“Just think about it,” Spencer said with a smile.

You nodded your head, turning to begin packing up your things.

You ran your hand over your sweaty face, pushing aside some hair. Still, nothing. At this point, you were very much ready to accept Spencer’s offer. Even if it did change your relationship.

Your eyes glared at the screen of your phone, the 11:04 seemingly taunting you, would he even be awake? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try

Y/N: Are you up?

You hit send, laying your phone next to you, you didn’t really expect Spencer to answer, at least not immediately, he rarely ever used his phone. But, like a lot of things lately, you were wrong, because your phone buzzed beside you.

Spencer: Unfortunately, I can’t seem to sleep. I’m assuming the same for you?

Sighing, you formulated a reply.

Y/N: Unfortunately, you probably know why…

His reply was almost immediate as if he was sitting there waiting for you to answer.

Spencer: My offer still stands.

You ran your hands over your face for what seems like the millionth time. Were you really going to do this, let Spencer come over and fuck you?

Y/N: How fast can you be here?

Yes. Yes, you were.

You paced back and forth in front of your door. You had brushed your teeth, and hair, luckily, you had already shaved today. Were you supposed to wear something, like lingerie? Was he even going to touch you, or just tell you what to do? What if he couldn’t make you cum? What if he wasn’t rough enough?

Knock, knock, knock. Three soft wraps on the other side of the door. Spencer.

You sighed, no turning back now. You moved, unlocking the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There Spencer stood, clad in some simple plaid pajama pants, and a grey T-shirt. It was unusual to see him so casually dressed.

“Hey” you greeted shyly.

“Hey,” Spencer said, stepping into your apartment.

“S-So how does this work? How do you want to do this?” You questioned, gulping nervously.

Spencer chuckled surprisingly calm, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Y/N. This is about you, helping you get some relief.”

You smiled, biting your lip slightly, you had zero clue where Spencer’s newfound confidence was coming from, but you were enjoying it. “Well, I don’t know, I’m pretty much okay with anything, I guess.”

“How do you usually like to have sex, rough, soft, both? What gets you off Y/N, what turns you on?” Spencer stepped closer to you, his voice dropping an octave.

Your breath hitched in your throat, who knew Spencer had such a dirty mouth? “I-uh, well…” you trailed off.

Spencer moved forward once again, his large hand pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “something tells me you like it rough, you like to be dominated, totally fucked into oblivion.”

The room seemed to spin, and your lip caught between your teeth, at this point, you weren’t even sure if this was Spencer? Had you just let a random man into your apartment? Did an alien infest Spencer’s body and now it was here to kill you?

Spencer tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, but his hand continued moving, playing with the hair at the back of your head. Then in one swift tug, your head was yanked back, neck exposed. You let out a yelp, digging your teeth deeper into your lip. “Am I right?” He questioned, his hazel eyes now a deep brown with lust. His other hand ran a finger up your neck, watching you shiver.

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, somehow, it almost felt foreign to move your mouth, if he didn’t have you convinced before, he definitely did now. Maybe Spencer could make you cum, and maybe multiple times.

He tugged on your hair harshly once again, causing you to release a low groan. Spencer leaned in closer, placing his head next to your ear, whispering lowly “in case you can’t tell, I’m looking for an answer, sweetheart.” His finger trailed to the base of your neck, flattening his palm to run it up to your neck once again, his hand wrapping around the sides of your neck.

You whimpered lightly, letting your hands grip his wrist for support. Without thinking you breathed out a response, “yes, yes sir, you’re right.”

Spencer pulled his head back from your face, his dark eyes making contact with yours. “Mhm, good girl.” Spencer’s voice was low, and gravely, obviously, he seemed to enjoy this just as much as you did. His hand released your neck, shifting slightly so he could run his thumb over your bottom lip.

Once again, almost out of instinct, you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. If someone had asked what your plans were for tonight, never in your life would you think to respond “inviting Spencer Reid over to my house at 11 o'clock at night, then letting him fuck me.”

Spencer groaned lightly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, dragging it down your chin, wiping off the saliva. He brought his other hand up to cup your face gently, his eyes darting down to your lips. Taking the initiative, you stood on your tiptoes, bringing your lips up to his soft pink ones. Your mouths moved in sync as if this were an everyday occurrence.

You both pulled away, chests heaving for air. “Y-you’re sure about this?” Spencer questioned, concern filling his eyes.

You giggled, Spencer would never not be a gentleman, “I’m sure, Spence. I need this, and you need some stress relief, and if it’ll benefit us both, why not?”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “okay.”

Smiling, “okay” you responded.

“Is there-you know, anything that I shouldn’t do, things you aren’t comfortable with?”

You let yourself think for a moment, was there anything you weren’t comfortable with? You were very explorational with your sex life, and you trusted Spencer. “Not really, Spence. Just, do what you think will make me cum.”

Once again, the predatory look clouded over Spencer’s eyes, his lips curling into a smirk. “That's not my name, sweetheart.” He growled.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. “Sorry...sir.” You were slightly hesitant, you had already called him sir, but you weren’t sure if it was the name he was looking for.

A smack rang through the air and a stinging spread through your ass. Your body jerked forward pressing further into his, “shit! Sorry, daddy!” You cried, your eyes snapping open to watch his reaction. The daddy had slipped out, you didn’t know if Spencer would be weirded out, or into it, hopefully, the latter.

Spencer’s eyes widened, apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Before you could correct yourself, one of his hands gripped your hips, roughly pulling you into him, and the other pulled your head to him, smashing his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his torso, trailing up his back and into his long hair, tugging at it. He groaned against your lips, his head falling back slightly, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck, Y/N, not what I was looking for, but, I definitely enjoyed it.” Spencer groaned out, his hands traveling your sides. Yet, you longed for more, you longed to feel his skin against yours, the weight of his hips between your legs.

You peppered kisses over his neck, relishing in the way his hands felt against your body. Spencer groaned lightly as you sucked at a spot at the base of his neck. His hands dug into your hips harshly, and you whimpered slightly at the pain. With a rough shove, Spencer pushed you away from him, both of you panting.

“I want you on the bed, naked, don’t touch yourself, just wait for daddy,” Spencer said, his voice dripping with an authority he only ever used in the interrogation room, and God did you love it.

You nodded your head in understanding, turning to walk to the bedroom. Once inside, the nerves hit, you were really doing this, you were actually going to fuck Spencer, and hopefully cum. Your shirt hit the floor first, the cool air causing your nipples to harden since you had opted not to wear a bra. Your leggings came off next, with only a little struggle due to the slight sweat that came with being aroused. Lastly, your thin lace thong, which you made sure to drop a little closer to the doorway, just so Spencer would notice it first thing when he walked into the room.

Spencer walked down the short hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet, alerting you of his approach. Quickly you sat on the bed, both legs and arms crossed in a means of covering yourself. As excited as you were to cum, that didn’t knock the anxiety of Spencer seeing your naked body.

Spencer appeared in the doorway, his teeth immediately biting down on his lip at the sight of you. He took slow steps towards you, maintaining eye contact the whole way. He crouched in front of you so his face was level with yours. His hands ran over your arms, uncrossing them gently before doing the same with your legs. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

A blush covered your face, it was incredible how quickly he could switch from domineering to sweet. Spencer leaned in, peppering kisses over your neck. His arms were placed on either side of you, his mouth working sinfully.

Your head leaned back with a breathy moan, giving him better access to your neck. Spencer's mouth worked over your collarbone, beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses in the valley of your breasts. “Such pretty tits,” he mumbled against your skin, letting one of his hands reach up and palm your breast. Your back arched into his touch, his warm skin against yours.

You brought your head upright, watching as he took one of your perky nipples into his pretty pink lips. “Fuck, Spence” you moaned out, placing your hand on the back of his head to run through his hair. Spencer’s teeth lightly grabbed your nipple, pulling his head back, tugging sharply. “Shit! Daddy, I meant daddy.” You corrected breathily.

Spencer’s mouth released your nipple, his head coming up to yours for a sloppy kiss. He pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He chuckled lightly, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip to break it. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

You smiled, could this man get any more polite? “Yes, please just do something.” You begged.

“Ask and you shall receive” Spencer answered, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He moved slightly, situating himself on his knees. You bit your lip softly, wishing this intimate moment could last forever. His large hands rested on your knees, spreading your legs. He chuckled, “Mhm, so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your head tilted back slightly, ecstasy running through your body at his words. One of his hands trailed up your leg, stopping to rub soft circles around your clit. You moaned lightly, one of your hands placed behind you to keep your body upright, the other on the back of Spencer’s head playing with his hair. His pace sped up slightly, and you bucked your hips forward, aching for more. “Please, please, I need more.” You whined.

“Patience, love” despite his words, his pace sped up again, and your head tilted further back with a loud moan. “There you go, sweetheart, enjoy it.” He removed his thumb, and before you could complain, it was quickly replaced by his tongue, kitten licking your clit slowly.

You groaned lightly, the hand in his hair tightening its grip. “Yes, daddy, fuck.”

Spencer’s tongue sped up, his eyes gazing up at you, watching you squirm with pleasure. Spencer’s hand on your knee trailed up your thigh, his fingertips running up and down your lips.

You looked down at him, a whimper escaping your mouth at the sight. His hand parted your lips, pushing a finger into your pussy. “Fuck, yes, Spencer.” He didn’t correct you this time, instead, he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking lightly, while his finger began slow strokes in and out of your cunt.

A loud moan escaped your lips, your hips rocking lightly against his face. The tip of his tongue ran lightly over your clit, and his finger picked up the pace. “Mhm, yes, daddy, just like that.” Your hand tugged harshly at his hair, and you were sure it had to hurt.

Spencer’s lips released your clit with a pop, “are you close, love?” He questioned, a lust-hungry look in his eyes.

You nodded your head vigorously, “yes, so, close, please-just-please.” You could feel it, the knot building rapidly in your stomach, the tension in your legs. Spencer slipped another finger into your pussy, crooking them slightly, his pace becoming ruthless, hitting a spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed. His lips wrapped around your clit again, this time sucking harshly, watching as your thighs shook around his head and your back arched, your hips thrusting into his face.

You let out a loud cry, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came. Your toes curled, breath hitched, and your thighs clamped down on Spencer’s head, whimpers and moans leaving your mouth. It was like pure bliss, and you had never been more thankful for Spencer in your life.

Spencer’s mouth and fingers worked you through your orgasm, only slowing down when your chest began to heave for the breath you lacked. His lips popped off your clit, and his drenched fingers slid out of your pussy. “You made a mess, baby.”

You looked down at him, and never had you seen a more beautiful sight, his hair was tousled, and his chin was covered in your arousal. He brought his fingers to his lips, taking them in his mouth, cleaning off your arousal. You moaned at the sight alone, still slightly out of breath. Spencer pulled his fingers out of his mouth, placing his hands at your sides. He pushed himself back up onto his feet. “You want me to fuck you?” He asked, his voice low and strained, you could see why his erection was visible through his pants.

Your mouth hung open, you had just come, but somehow, your body longed for more, to feel his cock inside you. You nodded your head, your eyes pleading with his. His hand trailed up your side, sliding over your breast and up to your neck, choking you lightly. “Use your words, sweetheart.” He teased.

“Yes, yes, please fuck me, daddy.” You squirmed in his grip, body aching for him.

The hand on your neck pushed you back so you were lying flat against the bed. Spencer released your neck, quickly beginning to shed his clothes. You watched with hooded eyes, your thighs rubbing together for some friction. Once he was fully unclothed, he was on you, his mouth catching yours in a feverish kiss. Your hands wrapped around his torso, nails clawing down his back. He groaned at the pain, “ready for me to fuck you?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck me!” You groaned, reaching your hand in between the two of you to pump his cock. He moaned loudly in your ear, and you swear it was like you had died and gone to heaven. In one swift motion, he snapped his hips forward, burying his cock in you. You yelped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your nails scratched down his back once again as he bottomed out, slamming back into you setting a brutal pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me, so perfect.” He groaned out. He stopped momentarily, his hands grabbed your thighs, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. He pounded into you, this time balls deep. Your hands left his back, moving to grab your breasts, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

His hand shot up, wrapping around your neck lightly, causing your already dizzy head to spin more. Groans and curses left Spencer’s mouth, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tan skin. He looked like a God above you, and you had no idea how you got so lucky as to fuck him.

“Harder” you groaned out. Your hips thrust up to meet his, both of you working aggressively towards your orgasms. Spencer complied, his head falling back with a groan as he rammed into you. You screamed, eyes crossing as his cock brushed over your g-spot, your cunt clamping down onto his cock. “Fuck! Right there, Spencer, God, yes!”

“Oh, God, Y/N, such a perfect little slut for me.” He growled, his breath coming out in short pants. Incomprehensible moans and cries of Spencer's name left your lips.

Your hand on your breast crept up to Spencer’s hand around your neck, wrapping around his wrist. “I’m so close” you managed to groan out.

“Fuck, me too.” Spencer moaned, his voice deep and gravely. Your skin slapped against his with each thrust, the sound filling your bedroom. “Rub your clit” Spencer commanded, his hand held your hip in a harsh grip, which would definitely leave bruises.

You nodded, as best as you could with his large hand wrapped around your neck. You reached your hand down, using two fingers to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit. “I-I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer moaned above you, his eyes shutting, and his teeth biting down on his perfect lips. “Fuck, cum, cum for me.” He leaned closer into you, his swollen mouth capturing yours in a kiss. You pressed your lips desperately against his, teeth clashing sloppily.

You broke the kiss with a moan, your head falling back against the bed, and your back arching. The hand on his wrist squeezed harder, “tighter, tighter.” You cried, signaling for him to cut off more of your circulation. Without question, his hand tightened to the perfect pressure, and it was all you needed to send you over the edge into pure bliss. You came with a loud scream, that was sure to alert the neighbors, and your walls fluttered around Spencer’s cock, tears of pleasure flowing freely down your face. Everything in your body tensed, and your eyes rolled so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they didn’t get stuck there.

Your orgasm sent Spencer into his own, his head falling back with a deep guttural groan, his hands on your body tightening their grip. His body stilled, his cock buried deep within you, twitching and releasing his cum. “Fuck, Y/N, you perfect slut, ugh.”

Spencer’s hand released your neck, falling onto your hip. You gulped down the air like a fish, your hand releasing his wrist and coming up to rub your sore neck. Spencer pushed your legs off his shoulders, and his body collapsed onto yours, both of you completely wrecked.

You felt his hot breath against your neck, both of you panting like dogs. You could feel the sweat running down your forehead, mixing with the tears on your face. Your eyes were still closed, your body still coming down from it’s high. At that moment you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, not just because you were exhausted, but because you could wrap around Spencer like a sloth. You laughed lightly, running one of your hands through Spencer’s hair. “That was amazing” you breathed out.

Spencer chuckled into your neck, “I knew I could make you cum.” He pulled back, hovering on his forearms above you.

You giggled at his words, your hands trailing down his back, to his tense shoulders, massaging them lightly. With one last peck to your lips, Spencer pulled away, turning around. You giggled again at the sight of his bare ass, “as much as I love the view, where are you going?”

He turned back to you with a light-hearted smile on his face “I need to clean you up, I don’t think you want to go to bed with cum dripping down your thighs.”

You groaned, lazily reaching out for him, “but I’m tired.”

“And whiny,” Spencer replied, his voice muffled as he walked away from you and into the bathroom.

“I’m only whiny because I want to go to sleep, we can take a shower in the morning.” You attempted to sway him.

He walked back into the bedroom, a wet rag in his hand. You smiled, you could already see the multitude of love bites you left on his neck. “Your neck looks pretty,” you stated lazily.

Spencer laughed at your words, crouching down to run the rag up your thighs. “Yours does too, you’re going to need a lot of makeup to cover that bruise.” He was right, a bruise in the shape of his hand was going to be on your neck for days.

You let out a hiss as he ran the rag up your folds, still extremely sensitive. You sat up slightly, attempting to retreat further onto the bed and away from Spencer. His arms slung over your waist, pulling you right back to the edge of the bed. “The quicker I do this the quicker we get to go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chided.

You rolled your eyes, pouting like a child, “but it hurts.”

Spencer hummed in understanding, continuing to clean you, “you know, I was going to make you cum another time, but, I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Oh, please, I’d let you fuck me till I pass out if you made me cum like that again.” You laughed, watching as he threw the dirty rag onto the bedside table. He turned back to the bed, hovering over you once again.

His lips found yours in a slow, passionate kiss. “I’m holding you to that.”

You scoffed, pushing him off of you, “you better.” You turned onto your hands and knees, crawling to pull the comforter down. Spencer repeated your actions, crawling into bed next to you. You threw your leg over his, laying an arm across his chest.

“Here,” he said, sitting up slightly to slide his arm under your head as a makeshift pillow. “Next time, I’ll have to teach you how to make yourself cum.”

You sighed dreamily, snuggling further into Spencer’s warm body. You looked up at him, “next time, huh?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his body shifting slightly away from you, “I-I mean, only if you want to-”

You laughed, using your hand on his chest to push him back down onto the bed, “ of course I want to.” You paused for a moment, “but, won’t that be a little...weird?”

Spencer laughed “Only if you make it, Y/N. Think of this all as an anatomy lesson” Spencer whispered breathily into your ear.

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Casual Ruin Pt. 1 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series

Hello, and welcome to an unapologetically kinky, 90% smut / 10% plot mafia fic for Elriel.

Blanket trigger warning for ALL parts (although the first is very vanilla and sweet): this is for adults and contains both sex and violence. If you are not a fan of those two things, or the mild combination of them, scroll along. It contains things that might be triggering. It’s a dark romance.

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“Wake up, dolce mia.”

The words are a soft, accented whisper pressed against my ear during the darkest part of the night, followed by sinful lips pressing a kiss to my skin that jerks me out of my sleep.

Despite the rush of heat that floods my system, I keep my eyes closed and groan, pushing his face away. My body’s exhausted, and despite wanting nothing more than to wake up and let him make me even more tired, I need sleep.

A rough chuckle escapes him, but he’s apparently inhuman, doesn’t need sleep, and isn’t giving up this easily.

Dodging my weak attempts to push him away, he drags his mouth down the column of my throat, stopping to suck and nibble on parts that are especially interesting.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as he finds the junction between my shoulder and throat, but I still keep my eyes closed.

The cold metal of his chain raises goosebumps as it glints down the valley between my breasts, and his mouth follows, almost like he’s unable to help it.

He’s all over me, scent surrounding me and making it impossible to truly fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am.

He’s put my body through every possible sexual position known to man tonight, somehow pulling every ounce of pleasure from me.

But, like always, I want more.

He’s a drug, more potent than anything on the market, and I’ve come to crave the feel of him against me in the three weeks I’ve known him.

“Wake up, bellisima,” he murmurs, rough voice like a song that ignites a fire in my blood.

I shake my head, and he smiles against me. I regret not opening my eyes a little, because while nothing about him is unattractive, his smile is something I could never get enough of and I hate missing it.

Calloused, scared hands ghost down my body almost reverently, and then he’s kissing a trail across my ribs, over my stomach, and up to my breasts.

His tongue swirls around the peak of one, hand coming to mold the other to his touch, and I use every ounce of willpower to say still.

I’m proud to say I make it a full two minutes before I can’t take anymore and give in. “Fine. I’m awake.”

I say it as if it’s a struggle to be awoken by him and not the best part of my day.

My eyes open to find his, the warm hazel taking my breath away like always.

He gives me a slow smile, coming down to press a kiss to my lips. He tugs on the lower one with his teeth, then smooths the small hurt with his tongue.

I can’t help the small whimper that slips out as his tongue meets mine, because I’m honestly powerless to the way he kisses me.

Slow and deep and perfectly controlled, but also possessive and a little desperate. He’s a selfish kisser; he kisses me exactly how he wants, turning my head just right, nipping my lips when he wants, only breaking when I’m breathless.

A palm goes to my thigh, guiding it around his trim hips, then he’s grinding against me, letting me feel him against me, hard and ready and so tempting my eyes cross.

I resist the urge to arch up into him long enough to tease, “Egoisto bastardo.” Selfish bastard.

“Egoista,” he corrects, smirking.

I roll my eyes, caring less about adjectives and more about the feel of his hands on my hips. I roll my hips slightly, watching as the hazel of his eyes darkens to black.

“Was there a reason you woke me up?” I ask innocently, reaching between us and palming him in a blatant attempt to drive him half as crazy as he does me.

He nods and pushes into my palm. My hand instinctively wraps around him, and I guide him to the apex of my thighs, running the head of him against me in a way that makes us both shudder.

He pushes my head to the side with his chin, then runs his mouth up the column of my throat, stubble making goose bumps rise in his wake. His teeth nip at my skin before he whispers roughly, “I want to fuck you, Elain. I want to feel you around me, hear you call out my name, watch as you come on my cock. So stop teasing me and let me make give us both what we want.”

I don’t respond with words, being completely unable to find them. I just tilt my hips and slip him inside me, watching as the brown in his eyes fades to black.

Jaw tight, he pushes into me fully, causing me to arch up into him. My legs go around his waist, and he hums in satisfaction.

He pulls out the tiniest amount, then thrusts back in harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “You feel so good,” he praises, teeth finding my earlobe and biting down softly. I moan his name, my body on fire for him, and he murmurs, “I love the way you say my name.”

He pulls out all the way, then slams back inside me so hard I feel the reverberations in my hip bones. “But I want to hear you scream it.”

My head rolls back against the mattress, and I can hardly breathe around the feel of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Somehow I’m still not used to it, not used to how it somehow feels so right.

My breasts bounce as he works me, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. His head raises and his eyes drop, watching.

“Minchia,” he curses, reaching up to palm my one roughly. “Cosi bella.”

If he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice, I won’t last another two minutes. I’m already shaking, but I push the impending release away, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

He moves faster, hands sliding down to my backside to lift me up exactly how he wants. His pelvic bone brushes against my clit every time our hips collide, and it’s almost too much. A low moan escapes me as he kisses my neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

His hands tighten on my ass, and then his palm is connecting with my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he growls, even though it’s obvious I did.

I nod, mouth too preoccupied with kissing his jaw to reply.

Like always, he gives me exactly what I want, using the other hand this time to spank me. The sharp sting pushes me over the edge, and I yell his name yet again as I come.

He doesn’t come with me, just releases my ass to wrap one arm around my shoulders to keep me in place as he takes his own pleasure. His hips are harsh against mine, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I take everything he gives me and want even more.

My nails rake down his back, and he mutters a curse against my lips as he kisses me. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t stop myself from sucking on it, completely lost in him.

“Fuck, Elain,” he growls, bracing a hand on the headboard I hadn’t realized was so close. His fingers are tight on my shoulder, lips brutal against mine, thrusts so hard I’m practically screaming.

But it isn’t any of that that makes release find me again.

It’s him groaning, “Ti senti cosi bene,” then leaning down to press the rough translation to my ear.

I come apart entirely, and it’s a miracle his lips stifle the helpless noises I make, otherwise I’d wake up my cranky old neighbor. Again.

I tremble beneath him as his movements get a little sloppy, then still entirely.

He kisses my again as he comes, and it’s a rough, almost bruising sort of kiss that makes me want to do it all over again.

He eventually slows to a stop, looking down at me with enough heat in his eyes I melt.

“Fatto per me,” he whispers, running a knuckle over the curve of my cheek.

My sluggish brain works overtime to figure out what he said, eventually finding the translation.

Made for me.

~Three weeks ago~

The opera house is unsurprisingly packed, opening night drawing in over two hundred well-dressed patrons.

I had to pull together three months rent for the ticket alone, a ridiculous expense I’d normally never allow myself, but coming here has been on my bucket list for over nine years, ever since I first heard Cecilia Bartoli on a friend’s radio.

I pinched pennies, picked up extra shifts, and only ate Ramen for the month leading up to my trip here--a real crime, considering my profession--so I could come.

And even though I broke out in a cold sweat from the expense of this night, I have to say it’s already worth it. I have a huge smile on my face as I make my way through the lobby, stopping to look at the program and take in the portraits of the performers.

By the time I go to enter the auditorium, there are only a few people left in the lobby. I want to use the restroom before the show starts, so I hurry up the stairs to the upper floor to look for it.

Except it’s nowhere to be found.

I search down every hallway, the stress of missing the show forcing me to almost jog. A man in a red jacket steps into the hall right when I’m starting to despair, and he turns to me and raises a brow.

“Excuse me... where’s the restroom?” I ask in the most atrociously broken Italian he’s probably ever heard.

His eyes skate over me from head to toe, then he says something back, way too quickly for me to decipher.

I assume he’s asking if I have a ticket, so I hold up the crumpled paper I’ve been guarding for months and smile.

He gives me a strange look, extending an arm and gesturing for me to follow. I nod, and we start off down the corridor, stopping in front of a plain white door.

“This is the restroom?” I ask, not understanding why it isn’t labeled or anything.

He mumbles something I can’t hear, seems to hurry me on, then opens the door and practically shoves me inside.

And straight into a man’s chest.

Which makes this the strangest women’s room I’ve ever ventured into.

He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders, and somehow I know, before I even look, that this man will be devastatingly handsome.

Too curious not to, I look up. And up, and up some more.

And I realize I was both right and wrong, because the man before me is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also so much more, to the point where those words aren’t enough to describe him.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

It’s a classic sort of look, one that will never go out of style and never be considered anything but perfect.

Hazel eyes rimmed in dark black eyelashes meet mine, narrowed at the edges with amusement. His full, all too kissable lips are turned up in a smirk and surrounded by a day’s worth of stubble I know would scratch at the fingers I’m tempted to run over it.

He’s so tall my neck starts to cramp, but I’m a deer in the headlights, unable to so much as blink.

He’s monochromatically dressed in black, from his suit jacket, shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. We’re still pressed against each other, and the differences between us couldn’t be more obvious.

He’s sin incarnate, the perfect picture of a fallen angel, and I’m the naiive girl dressed in lilac and unable to stop blushing.

His dark hair slips over his forehead as he leans his face further to mine, and for a strange second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he takes a step back and regards me with assessing eyes.

“Stai bene?”

The sound of his voice--a cool, deep balm that soothes my nerves--throws me for a second, but even my American self can understand that simple question. I nod.

His lips twitch. “Sei sicuro?” Are you sure?

I nod again.

“Tu parli?” Do you speak?

My eyes narrow a little at the teasing note in his voice. “Si.”

“Cosa stai facendo qui?”

My knowledge of Italian is limited to the Duolingo I’ve been cramming in the last couple of months, so I tell him I don’t understand.

He waves a hand around us, his eyes growing a shade darker as he prowls toward me. He says something in a low voice, the tenor in his voice giving me goosebumps.

“It was an accident! I was looking for the restroom,” I blurt when he takes another step toward me.

He stops. Understanding dawns. A smile breaks lose that threatens my sanity with its beauty.

“You’re American,” he says in surprisingly perfect English.

It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m at the opera,” I state stupidly.

His lips tip upward, and I mentally slap myself for the dumb response. “You are. But what are you doing here?”

Oh. For the first time since I was shoved in here, I take a look around. I’m in one of the dark boxes on the upper floor of the opera house, the ones usually reserved for royalty or billionaires or people willing to spend an entire paycheck. There are two seats, a table in between them, and a perfect view of the stage from the slight balcony.

I gasp when I realize the lights are dim, meaning the show has either started or is about to. “Have I missed anything?”

“No. Now answer the question.”

God, he’s relentless. I sigh and explain, “I was looking for the bathroom, and a very unhelpful attendant pushed me in here instead.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. Like he’s trying to tell if I’m being serious or something. Honestly, who would lie about going to the bathroom?

“Listen, Mr...” I realize I don’t know his name, so I just keep talking. “I don’t know why you think I’d lie and sneak in here, but I’m not, and I didn’t. And I don’t want to miss anything, so I’ll just head down to my regular seat and get out of your hair.”

With one last look at him, I make my way to the door. Only to be stopped by a large hand shooting out and a softly murmured, “Stay.”

I start to deny that knee-weakening request, start to tell him it would be crazy to sit here alone with a stranger. But then a woman steps onto the stage, and everything changes.

“Oh my God, it’s her,” I whisper, practically shoving him out of the way as I hurry over to the balcony.

Cecilia Bartoli’s on the stage, wearing an elaborate gown, dripping with diamonds and confidence, effortlessly belting out lyrics I’m too dazed to even try to understand.

For a moment, I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice when a warm hand lands on my elbow and guides me to the chair behind me. I sink down, eyes still trained on the stage.

I’ve listened to her on my phone or the radio for so long that it’s surreal to hear her live.

I’m breathless by the time the song ends, and it’s when I hear a deep breath I remember I’m not alone. “Sorry. I... I’m a big fan of hers.”

He presses a button on the table I hadn’t noticed and an usher immediately brings in a fresh glass of champagne and a tumblr full of amber liquid. “No apology is necessary. I’ve never met an American fond of Italian opera; it’s refreshing to meet someone with good taste. I’m surprised you don’t speak Italian, though, given your passion.”

“You don’t have to understand what someone’s saying to understand what they’re feeling,” I point out.

He grins like I’ve said the right answer to a difficult question. “True.”

The next song starts, a backup singer effortlessly building he crowd’s energy, and my gaze is torn between the man beside me and the stage. I want to stare at him and listen to him speak in that strangely sexy voice, but I’ve also been looking forward to this show for almost a year.

“I’d like to propose a deal,” he says, surprising me.

My eyebrows quirk at the practiced way he said that, and I debate if this is a good idea. Curiosity wins in the end. “A deal?”

“I leave you alone and stop interrupting your experience, and you agree to have a drink with me after the show’s over.”

I purse my lips to give the appearance of being deep in thought. “I could always just leave and sit in my own seat.”

He nods. “You could. But you won’t.”

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” He should be.

He smiles, hazel eyes on mine as he takes a slow sip of his drink. For some reason, my stomach ties itself in knots and my thighs press together at the look in his eyes. He smirks like he knows what happened, and says, “You don’t want to leave. In the five minutes you’ve been here, you haven’t stopped blushing. And let’s not forget the spell of speechlessness.”

I blush again, making him chuckle.

Then I murmur, “Fine. Deal.”

He takes my hand in his, shaking once and sealing it in metaphorical stone.

“Enjoy the show.”

Cecilia starts singing again before I can respond, and I become lost once again to the vibrato of her voice.

I don’t like all opera, and I don’t like all opera singers, but there’s something about her that makes you feel every single thing she’s thinking about while singing. It’s the rawest form of art I’ve ever experienced, and it’s impossible to look away while she tells her story.

That doesn’t mean I’m not overly aware of the man next to me.

His eyes are on me the entire time mine are on the stage, acting like I’m more interesting to watch than the show he undoubtedly paid thousands of dollars to see. His gaze burns a hole into the side of my face, but I can’t be bothered to care because I just can’t believe I’m here.

The last song before intermission concludes, leaving the audience in suspense of what happens next, and I find I’m almost breathless as I watch the curtain sweep closed dramatically.

A condition that does the opposite of improve when the man beside me says softly, “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“You’re charming,” I say back, my skin warming like it always does with compliments.

He grins like that’s amusing.

“What’s your name?” he asks, facing me and crossing his long legs. I do the same, leaving less than an inch between our knees.

“Elain.”

“Elain,” he repeats, drawing the syllables out in a way that makes me bite into my lower lip.

“What’s yours?”

He tilts his head, almost in preparation, as he answers, “My name is Azriel Pacino.”

He says it with finality, like he’s a person of importance and is used to being treated accordingly. I mean, it makes sense, considering the private booth we’re sitting in and the instantaneous service the waiter brought our drinks with.

I realize something I’d pushed to the back of my mind. “Why did the man from before bring me in here? He seemed like he was nervous or late or something.”

“He was,” he chuckles. “He was supposed to bring me my companion for the evening, and he was late.”

My jaw snaps shut. “Oh. So... you’re still waiting for her, then?”

At this point, she was very rudely late, but that’s absolutely none of my business.

He tilts his head and smiles, the sight too much for me and causing me to take a long swallow of champagne. “Are you asking if I’m single, Elain?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times to his amusement, but I end up whispering, “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I wasn’t.”

I feel a strange sense of relief, but I don’t have time to read into it before the curtains sweep back open and the lights dim, meaning the show’s about to start.

More singers are with Cecilia now, their voices joining to create a sound so moving, I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears. Which grows harder as the scenes progress, and it becomes obvious this story will end in a tragedy.

By the end, I’m helpless. My eyes are watering, and I have a death grip on the arm of the seat I’ve all but forgotten I’m sitting in. The last song is the one that breaks the dam, and when the performers bow and the lights come back on, my cheeks are damp.

I wipe them with the backs of my hands, then stand and clap so hard my palms hurt.

Taking another large sip of champagne to calm myself, I turn back to Azriel, finding him watching me once again. I normally would feel a little guilty about completely ignoring a man for over an hour, but hey, we have a deal.

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“So much more,” I answer, laughing incredulously. “I’ve wanted to see her perform for years.”

A thoughtful look crosses his face, then he stands with fluid grace I could never hope to have and extends a hand. “Come with me.”

I remember our deal. “To get a drink?”

He shakes his head but offers no other explanation, and even though it might be a bad idea, I accept it.

Azriel pulls me from the booth and leads me down the hallway I ran through earlier, and I notice the people on this floor give him a wide birth, looking at him with round eyes.

Maybe he’s famous here or something.

I shrug it off, deciding to live in the moment as his arm goes around me and his palm lands on my waist.

We come to a stop at an elevator I hadn’t noticed, and once inside, he presses B instead of the button for the lobby.

I’m confused as to why until the door opens and I see a flurry of people bustling back and forth, carrying props and costumes and other important stuff.

My eyes shoot to Azriel’s, but he stays silent, just guiding me from the lift and down a narrow hallway.

He knocks twice on a door, then opens it and tugs me inside.

When I glance around him to see what the surprise is, I almost hit the floor.

Cecilia Bartoli sits on a plush sofa, holding a martini and looking so beautiful and classy I almost start crying all over again.

She looks up at us and raises an eyebrow, and I’m about to... I don’t know, apologize for barging in unannounced or something, when Azriel speaks.

It’s in Italian, so I can’t be sure what he’s saying, but then he tilts his head towards me and says simply, “Elain.”

She gets to her feet and comes toward us, bypassing him to grab my shoulders and kiss my cheeks. “Buona sera, Elain.”

I take a shaky breath, half convinced I passed out and this is all some elaborate dream. “Buona sera.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asks in heavily accented English, smiling at me kindly.

“Oh, my goodness, yes. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen. I’m a huge fan of yours. I bought my ticket and have looked forward to this for months, and it was perfect,” I babble, not able to shut up in her presence.

“Gazie.” Her eyes shoot to the man beside me, and she asks kindly, “Would you like an autograph, dear?”

My mouth drops open, because I have to be dreaming. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

She waves a hand, grabs a program from tonight off the dressing table nearest us, and signs, “Elain, It was lovely to meet you. Cecilia.”

Then she hands it to me, not possibly knowing how much it means, and says, “Come back anytime.”

I nod overzealously, too stunned by the events that have gone down in the last ten minutes to say anything witty besides, “Thank you so much. It was so wonderful to meet you.”

She kisses my cheeks again, nods to Azriel, then moves back toward the couch. He says something else that has her rolling her eyes, but he pulls me from the room before I can try and decipher it.

As soon as it shuts behind us, I turn and smack his shoulder.

He looks adorably confused, but I’m on an adrenaline high and don’t stop to appreciate the expression.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you know her! Or that that’s where you were taking me! I could’ve... I don’t know, fixed my hair or something!”

Smiling, he smooths a hand over the slightly curled locks resting on my shoulder and shakes his head. “She’s an old friend of mine. It’s why I came. And you look perfect.”

I ignore the tingly sensation that statement gives me. “You’re friends with Cecilia Bartoli.”

I say it as a statement, but it still sounds ridiculous.

He shrugs. Shrugs.

I shake my head in bewilderment, not knowing what else to do, and he chuckles. “Come with me”

I do.

He leads me upstairs and outside, then down the Sicilian streets until we find a beautiful, quiet bar close to where I’m staying. It’s candlelit and romantic and this entire night sounds like a fairytale.

We take one of the many abandoned booths and order, then he leans back, drapes a long arm over the back of the booth, and looks at me like he’s content to do just that all night long.

“Why are you in Sicily?” he finally asks as our drinks are being set in front of us.

I take a sip of wine and respond, “I start at the Culinary Institute on Monday.”

Two days from now, and I could hardly freaking wait.

“You must be a talented chef, then. That’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world.”

“I guess. What about you?” I ask, desperate to talk about him instead of me. “What do you do for a living?”

He pauses, takes a drink. “I’m in security.”

That would explain the fact he could blend in at a boxing match or a board meeting.

“How is your English so good, by the way?”

Another pause, this one longer than the one before. “I lived in Chicago for a while.” I’m about to ask why he moved, or maybe why his expression got darker when I asked him that when he beats me to it. “How long does the program last?”

It’s my turn to pause and stall with a sip. “Just the summer.”

He nods, taking that in stride, even though it feels much more dramatic to me. Of course I’d meet someone handsome and kind and interesting when I’m only in town for three months, two weeks, and six days.

Suddenly, I’m worried he won’t want to continue this date, knowing it’s all but pointless, considering I’m not here permanently.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Elain.”

I look back up to find him studying me, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He reaches over and taps my bottom lip. “I know you’re frowning. And you’re beautiful when you frown, caro, but I much prefer your smile. So stop worrying about it and just enjoy the moment.”

“Okay,” I agree, vowing to do exactly that.

“Okay,” he parrots, taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head. “Why Cecilia Bartoli?”

I take a deep breath and try to think about how to phrase this. “My mom died when I was younger, and I lost my dad when I was fifteen. It hit me hard, and I couldn’t find the will to live, much less smile. And then one day, I was sitting outside the restaurant I was waitressing at, and our chef played a song by her.”

“And it was just... one of those life changing moments I’ll never forget. Her music got me through the hardest part of my life, and I’ve grown to appreciate it even more over the years.”

He smiles sadly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

I shrug, once again a little uncomfortable. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“So are you. I want to get to know you.”

We spend the next to hours talking.

We talk until the place is empty and I’m sure the owner is ruing the day we were born, but I can’t bring myself to stop. His dry commentary makes me laugh, his occasional smile makes my knees weak, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world makes my heart pound.

The music is still playing, even though the bartender is nowhere to be found, and since I’ve had pretty much the best night of my life and am just tipsy enough to be bold, I stand and offer my hand.

“Dance with me, please.”

His lips twitch, even as he says, “I don’t dance.”

I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Well, if you want me smiling and happy, I suggest you change your policy.”

He snorts but gives in, sliding from the booth and taking me in his arms gently. One of his palms is cradling mine, the other is on the dip of my spine, and for a moment, we simply sway to the crackly sounds coming from the old stereo.

We dance through the tables, and he turns out to be much better than I expected, twirling me and leading me effortlessly. Or maybe that’s just him.

He’s obviously a born leader, someone who’s always in control, and it’s refreshing to be with someone confident but not overbearing.

My head rests against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothes an ache in my soul I never realized I had. “You smell good,” I tell him, very matter-of-factly.

It’s a weird thing to say, but I kind of can’t help it.

He smells like smoke and spices, the combination so addictive it’s all I can think about as we move together.

The hand on my back moves to the back of my head, and it quickly shifts from dancing to being held in his arms. We’re still swaying, but it’s more of a hug, both of us simply enjoying the feeling of the other against us.

His hand glides through my hair, and it feels so good I close my eyes.

I try telling myself I’ve known him a handful of hours, but it’s no good. He’s somehow transitioned from a stranger to someone I’ve known for years, someone I’m comfortable around.

So when he pulls back and mumbles, “I want to kiss you,” against my ear, I let him.

And when he walks me to the townhouse I’m renting, kisses me slowly, and gives me a business card with his number on it, I promise to call.

____________________________

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @ireallyshouldsleeprn @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @biggestwingspan-az

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acosf #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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j-amespotter · 3 years

Text

★ mirrorball - j. p.

“i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.”

Pairing: James Potter x Gryffindor!Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: James Potter has only ever had one girl on his mind. You’ve always known that. You decide it’s time for a new haircut.

Genre/Warnings: slight angst/FLUFF, insecurity (?)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: fluff?? from me??? who would have thought? first time writing for james! this is just me finding out lily had shoulder-length hair in ootp and rolling with it ;p let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist

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“Are you sure about this?” asked Mary Macdonald, a fellow sixth-year, close friend and roommate of yours.

Open scissors hovered around a section of your thick hair. You eyed yourself in the mirror contemplatively. “Positive,” you affirmed.

Mary shook her head disapprovingly and sighed. “If you insist. I really like your long hair, though.”

A small, almost-undetectable part of you agreed. “Change is always good.”

“For the right reasons,” retorted Mary. Nevertheless, she trimmed off the allotted portion of your hair. Gulping at the lopsided haircut, you knew there was no turning back. You assumed that cutting your hair to match Lily Evans’s new hairstyle was not what Mary considered to be “for the right reasons.”

“You know,” said Mary after snipping away in silence for a few minutes, “I think he likes you just the way you are.”

That’s the problem, you wanted to answer. I want more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mary glanced towards the door of their dormitory. “Copying Lily’s haircut is not the way to go about this, (Y/N),” she said in a hushed whisper.

Yes, it is. He chose her. “I’m not trying to copy Lily,” you hissed defensively. “I just wanted to try something different. And what better way to celebrate a Quidditch win than to debut a new haircut?”

Suddenly, you caught sight of a new face in the dormitory. With a quick glimpse of her, you couldn't help your defeated sigh. Lily Evans was bright and funny. She was the physical embodiment of sunshine, with hair the color of red wine and vivid green eyes. It was for these reasons and more that, unfortunately for you, Lily became the object of James Potter's affection, nearly as much as he was yours.

But even that was untrue. Your love for James, despite its unrequited nature, was different from his love for Lily. You and James were two sides of the same coin, just different enough to complement each other perfectly. It had been six years. The boy who had overpowered every waking thought of yours was yet to come to the same realization.

“Hey,” greeted Lily. “Great game today, (Y/N)! Party just started downstairs. What’s the hold-up?” She spotted the scissors in Mary’s hand and your sheepish gaze through the mirror. “Merlin, you cut your hair! It looks amazing!”

You wished you could hate her, but such was the unmistakable appeal of Lily Evans. “Thanks, Lily,” you said with what you hoped was a genuine smile. “I was freshening up. We thought I could use a little spruce.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mary turn away hastily.

“Well, hurry up and get changed! Everyone’s waiting,” Lily added with a cheeky smile, one you could not entirely understand.

You stood up, shaking the hair off of your uniform. With a silent incantation and a flick of your wand, it disappeared from the floor. Glancing at Lily, an idea popped into your head. “I just need to get changed. Lily, can I borrow that yellow dress of yours? The one with the daisies? You wore it at the last game and said I could try it on some time.”

Lily nodded, as unassuming as ever. You decidedly ignored Mary’s glare as you waited for the dress to make it into your hands.

☆

“Took you long enough,” teased Sirius as you sauntered down the stairs with Mary and Lily at your heels. As you reached the bottom of the steps, he peered closer at you. “You look different, (L/N).”

You grinned. “Good different? Or bad different?”

“Ask Potter,” said Lily from behind you.

Feeling the heat rise up your cheeks, you dismissed the supposedly good-natured comment. Instead, you took in your surroundings. An impressive display of scarlet and gold ornamented the common room. Your inner lioness roared in delight. As a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the best House team in Hogwarts history, you couldn’t help the immense pride awakening in your chest at your latest win. You closed your eyes. In an instant, you remembered the exhilarating feel of a soaring broomstick in the brisk air. You imagined yourself in perfect formation with your teammates, trailing after a flash of dark, ruffled hair. You looked into his resolute eyes as he seamlessly passed you the Quaffle.

“Did you cut your hair?” interrupted James’s silky voice.

You turned around with a dazed smile on your face. Meeting his unreadable gaze, you hummed affirmatively. “What d’you think?”

For an unknown reason, he seemed taken aback. Slowly, his eyes raked over your body, head to toe. “It’s pretty,” he said quietly. You didn’t respond immediately, confused by the sudden tortured expression on his face. “Isn’t it a bit cold for that outfit?”

You chuckled darkly. “That’s not what you said when Lily wore it last time.”

James stared at you open-mouthed. Without a word, he stalked away, joining Peter for a butterbeer in the corner of the room.

“What happened?” asked Lily.

You stumbled backward. At this moment, you regretted wearing the high heels you found at the bottom of your trunk. “Nothing,” you snapped.

Lily raised her eyebrow. “There’s no need to take that tone with me,” she said coolly. “It’s not my fault both of you are completely blind.”

“You don’t have a clue, Evans,” you responded, involuntarily blushing at her veiled insinuation.

“I think I do. He has feelings for you, (Y/N).”

You laughed, though you found nothing funny about it. “He likes you, Lily.”

“Maybe,” said Lily, “but he’s in love with you. Everyone can see it.” She paused, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

Not a single part of you wanted to have this conversation. As Lily walked toward a tired-looking Remus, you exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Talk to him, said a firm voice in your head. Maybe he feels the same way.

Impossible. There was no way he could feel what you felt just thinking about him. Loving James was like flying. He was the adrenaline rush of being suspended in mid-air. He hit you with the speed of a Bludger whirring past your face. He was the Snitch that delicately fluttered in front of you, brushing your skin. He was the Quaffle that thumped perfectly in your hand.

You scanned the room for the hazel-eyed boy that owned your heart, only to discover that he had left Peter to his own devices. Something heavy settled in your stomach when you finally spotted him, seated on the space on the couch next to none other than Lily Evans. James chatted with her animatedly. You found no comfort in the tell-tale signs of her typical irritation.

Without a second glance, you tripped over your own two feet as you dashed for the portrait hole, wanting more than anything for fresh air and a free spot to scream yourself hoarse.

☆

It was by sheer stealth or unshakeable determination that you did not get caught. Students weren’t allowed on the Quidditch pitch without permission, but it was the only place you wanted to be. It was the only place you could bear to be.

You stood in the center of the pitch, hugging yourself as the prickly cold attacked you from all sides. You thought of lying down on the icy ground but knew not to subject yourself to any more physical agony.

Instead, you stood. You stood in heels that were tight around your ankles, sinking into the grass and bruising the underside of your feet. You stood in a strange, sleeveless dress in a January in the Highlands. Your eyes burned with tears that refused to fall.

Without warning, something feathery grazed your shoulder. Tilting your head slightly, you spotted a Golden Snitch. Gone rogue, you supposed to yourself. It floated at eye-level like a taunt. You reached forward and closed your fingers around it, surprised at the warmth the small object exuded.

“I should have you play Seeker,” uttered a familiar voice.

Startled, you whipped around, only to see nothing behind you. Having pivoted too fast, you felt yourself lose balance and topple backward, straight into the frosted grass you were avoiding.

Peeling off his Invisibility Cloak, James struggled to stop laughing long enough to help you up. Instead, he sat right next to you, wrapping the Cloak around both himself and your blueing body.

“You’ll ruin it,” you warned, teeth chattering.

“It can take it,” he assured. “You’re missing the party.”

“It’s your party, Captain.”

James shook his head. “It’s our party. We’re a team, you and me.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that. The two of you sat in silence, your hand still clutching the Snitch.

“You were so tall,” said James unexpectedly. “In your shoes.”

“I’m not even sure they’re mine,” you said lightly.

“No, they aren’t, are they?”

You didn’t answer. You pulled the Cloak tighter around you, unknowingly pulling James and all of his accompanying body heat along with it. The two of you were so close. You could see every speck of gold in his eyes.

James tentatively lifted his hand and reached for the ends of your hair, twirling a piece around his finger. “Your hair grew back.”

You gasped. “How? I didn’t…”

Grinning, James gently tugged the strand, pulling your ear closer to his lips. “Magic,” he whispered.

“Idiot,” you said, playfully shoving his chest.

Like a magnet, he leaned towards you again. There you were, together, under his Cloak, beneath the stars, in your favorite place in the world. With a hand cupping your cheek, he pressed his lips against yours. You inhaled his earthy scent and melted in his slow, seemingly eternal kiss.

Reluctantly, you pulled away. Your foreheads were touching. His hand remained as it was, cradling your face. “That was…”

“Breathtaking,” finished James without hesitation.

“Yes, it was,” you said, nodding fervently. “But James… what about Lily?”

He frowned. “What about her?”

“You’ve liked her for ages, James–”

“Stop,” he interrupted firmly. “This is our moment, (Y/N). I like you, and I think I always have. Scratch that… I liked Evans. But I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You are?”

“You’re my best friend,” said James. “I’ve been running away from it for so long. I didn’t mean to hurt you (Y/N). But I want to spend every waking moment with you. I can’t stop thinking about you even when I try.”

“But… I’m just me, James. Little old me.”

“Exactly. I don’t want you to be any different, (Y/N). Not for me,” he added sincerely. “I’m in love with you exactly the way you are. I’ll love you no matter how you look. But you shouldn't change who you are because of me.”

“Bighead,” you teased, swallowing the lump in your throat, “thinking it’s just for you.”

He smiled. James Potter was in love with you: the girl in an oversized Quidditch uniform, her hair cascading behind her, one that could easily deliver a kick in the shins in her trusty trainers. James loved your unfailing wit and uncontrollable nervous energy. He loved the way he felt when he looked at you. He loved the sound of your giggly cheers when you were both in the air. Most of all, he loved the way your lips felt on his. “Your hair grew back,” he repeated, this time with awe he couldn’t conceal.

“Guess we’re one crazy-haired couple,” you joked.

“I like the sound of that,” said James, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You snuggled into him, frozen temperatures now trivial. “I’m keeping the heels, though. I like being tall.”

James snorted. “If you can walk in them.” He proceeded to slip out of the Cloak, stand, and put on a very realistic show of twisting his own ankle.

“Shut up,” you said as he slid back in, snickering uncontrollably. Releasing the Snitch from your grip, you kissed him hard as it flapped in front of you.

Without tearing his lips away, James reached for the Snitch and pocketed it. “I love you,” he whispered against your mouth.

“I love you,” you said, tasting the words on your tongue for the first time, “but if we stay out here, I’ll freeze.”

“Let’s go have our own fun,” said James with another kiss and a wink to follow. “I could get used to this, you know.”

“Me too, Captain. Me too.”

Taglist: @iwritesiriusly @mads-bri @she-seeks-magic @sarcasticallywitty15

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drspencerweed · 3 years

Text

Safer to Kiss

Summary: [Y/N] is new to the BAU, and Spencer’s avoidance of handshakes backfires a bit.

WC: 2073

Content: fluffiest fluff, mentions of kidnapping/violence (typical bau stuff)

A/N: I haven’t written fluff for Spencer yet, so I hope y’all like this!

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I wasn’t nervous about my first day at the BAU. Sure, it would make sense if I was, but I had been working my entire career to get on this team. It was where I belonged, and I knew it. My interview process with Hotch had been a breeze, and I was ready to start the next step of the process: working my first case with the team. It was just preliminary, I was still in my probationary period, but I knew it was going to go well. I was over prepared for this job.

So I wasn’t nervous. I was ready. I met Hotch in his office that morning, ready to do paperwork until a case came in. But he greeted me with a nod and held up a case file.

“Round table, now.” He said, and I followed him out into the bullpen. The rest of the team was already in the room, waiting for us.

“Hello everyone. Meet a potential new member of our team, Agent [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. She’ll be joining us on this case in a probationary manner.” Hotch introduced, and I was greeted with six smiling faces. Immediately I was drawn to the most attractive man in the room. He was sitting down, but I could tell he was tall, lanky. His hair swept over his forehead perfectly. I didn’t let my attention linger there for long however, as I didn’t want to make my attraction obvious. Luckily, one of the other agents jumped in and turned me away.

“Derek Morgan.” The muscular man to my right said, holding out a hand. I shook it with a smile.

“David Rossi.” The next man said, again holding out a hand. Around the table they went, introducing themselves. Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ. Agent Emily Prentiss. Penelope Garcia. Then finally - the man who had so quickly caught my eye.

“Spencer Reid.” He said with a nod.

“Doctor Spencer Reid.” Morgan corrected with a nudge. Reid rolled his eyes, and a flush reached his cheeks. It was cute. And he was a doctor? I might have found my dream man.

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted, holding out a hand to shake. His flush grew deeper, and he cleared his throat.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He informed me, nodding and smiling. I retracted my hand with a smirk.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so.” It was out of my mouth before I could help it, the snarky retort something that I would say to any one of my friends. But I probably shouldn’t say it to someone who is technically a superior. I shut my mouth quickly and cleared my throat. Morgan let out a loud laugh, and Garcia chuckled. Reid looked shocked, his face turning a bright red and his eyes going wide. He started stuttering.

“I-I wasn’t, that’s not-”

“Pretty boy, stop while you’re ahead.” Morgan teased. Hotch looked at all of us disapprovingly, while Prentiss, Garcia, and JJ all smirked at Reid.

“Sorry,” Reid coughed into his hand, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said, looking me right in the eye. I smiled at him.

“You didn’t.” I sat down in the only seat available, between Reid and Morgan. “Pretty boy?” I asked Morgan. Reid tried to jump in to defend himself but Morgan held up a hand to stop him.

“I mean, am I wrong?” Morgan teased. I looked back at Reid and gave him a deliberate once-over while he blushed. It seemed he hadn’t stopped blushing since I walked in the door. Before I could answer, Hotch cleared his throat.

“Garcia, let’s get started.”

Reid avoided making eye contact with me throughout the whole briefing. The only time he so much as looked at me was when I brought up the fact that the unsub’s overkill could be related to abuse in his own past. He only looked at me to bring up a statistic about how most serial killers who use overkill actually know their victims. I realized I may have taken the joke too far.

I was determined to make him more comfortable around me, as I worried that my statement from earlier had intimidated him. Even if nothing happened between the two of us, I needed him to like me. I wanted the whole team to accept me.

~~~~

The case went swimmingly. We caught the bad guy and saved the man he had kidnapped just in the nick of time. For the entire week we had been working on the case, Reid and I had spent very little, if any, time alone. It was like he was actively avoiding me. Morgan called him ‘Pretty boy’ very often, and I learned it was just something they did. And I completely agreed with him, Reid was a very, very, pretty boy. I had to work hard to keep my eyes off of him when we were working in groups. He was just so attractive, and every rambling statistic spew made me more and more attracted to him.

I was developing a devastating crush, and fast.

We were boarding the plane to go home, and I purposefully sat across from Reid. Everyone else petered off to take naps, and quickly fell asleep, but not Reid. He took out a hefty novel and began reading at his exponential pace. I watched him for a few moments before taking out my laptop and browsing the internet. After I was sure everyone else on the flight was deep asleep, I shut my laptop and sighed.

Reid looked up at the sound, and met my eyes. He made a questioning face. “Is something wrong?” He asked, lowering his book.

“No, I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” He seemed shocked, and closed his book and put it to the side.

“For what I said at the round table. I know it made you uncomfortable, and you’ve been avoiding me this week because of it. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” I said. His eyebrows raised, and a flush started climbing up his throat. I quickly realized the implications of what I said, and began back-tracking. “Not that I was trying to come on to you, in any way, but uhm. I especially didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Reid nodded and took a moment to take in what I said. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” I could tell it was a true statement. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his hands twisted into each other on the table, and he seemed endlessly intrigued by their movement. But even with his body language betraying him I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“But you have been avoiding me?” I smirked slightly as I said it. I noticed his absence of a denial to that specific accusation. He bit down around a smile at my call out. He looked up to meet me in the eye for the first time since we met. The hazel was striking. I smirked at him.

“I guess you could say that.” He said, letting his lips turn up. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“For what reasons then?” I asked, intrigued. I couldn’t think of any other reason he would be avoiding me. His flush travelled up his neck to his cheeks. He coughed slightly and glanced up at me. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his eyes falling on my lips and then going back to his hands.

“You-” He started but cut himself off, bunching his lips together nervously. I chuckled a little and gave him an inquisitive glance.

“Go on, I’m curious.” I prompted. He smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly, but I caught it. He mumbled something under his breath, speaking so fast and so low that I couldn’t make it out. I quirked my head to the side, leaning forward in my seat. “What was that?”

“I said, uhm. You make me nervous.” He confessed, meeting my eyes quickly and then looking away again. I sat back in shock. Me? Make this man nervous? He was a literal genius, surely he knew how attractive he was. Not that I thought he was out of my league, by any means, but I expected him to be fairly confident in himself. For christ’s sake, his best friend called him ‘Pretty Boy’ more than he used his name. And yet, there was proof in front of me that the confidence I assumed he had was non existent.

“Am I that loud?” I asked with a laugh, trying to deflect what I thought he meant by ‘nervous’. He was attracted to me, wasn’t he? I hadn’t yet decided what I wanted to do with that information. It would make sense to ask him out, but I kind of liked the idea of teasing him without his knowledge. He seemed easy to fluster, and I loved flustering people.

He burst out laughing at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, no. It has nothing to do with loudness. You’re just, uhm. I’m not used to people like you.”

“People like me?”

He coughed into his hand and licked his lips. “Pretty. Confident. Forward.” He listed the adjectives quickly, counting them on his fingers. I smirked at his admission.

“So you think I’m pretty?” I smirked. He stuttered, trying to backtrack, but he knew he had been caught out.

“I-I just, yes, of course! But not like.... you’re objectively attractive! And subjectively, of course, but it’s not to say that I- that you-” He stammered out. I kept smirking at him as he dug himself a bigger hole. Finally I took mercy on him, reaching across the table and placing a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Reid. I think you’re objectively and subjectively attractive, too.” I said with a smile. His eyes shot up to meet mine, his hand flexing underneath my grip.

“Y-You do?” My heart melted for the sweet boy in front of me. How could he not know how attractive he was? He started on another rant. “I know that, scientifically, I have good bone structure, but I’m quite awkward which usually discredits whatever symmetry my face has.” I reached out and grabbed one of his hands in mine. It barely spooked him and he kept rambling. “More symmetrical faces are typically perceived as more attractive, but you probably already knew that.” He kept glancing between my eyes and our hands. Our fingers weren’t interlaced but our palms were pressed together.

“I did know that. I also know that you’re cute.” I squeezed his hand when he shook his head with a small smile. Suddenly I realized that our hands being together went against his no handshake rule. I went to pull away with a muttered, “Sorry-” But he just squeezed back and held me there.

“You really think I’m cute?” He asked skeptically.

I smiled widely. “Yes, I do.” His eyebrows raised and he shook his head in disbelief. I simply grinned at him as he tried to wrap his head around the idea that I could possibly be attracted to him. It was such a sweet sentiment it made me blush. I leaned forward in my seat a bit and reached out for his other hand. I was feeling bold. “So are you gonna ask me on a date or would you rather me do it?”

He smirked up at me shyly. “Would you like to get dinner with me when we get back?” He asked, interlacing our fingers.

“I’d love that.” I answered, squeezing his hand. The smile he gave me was so bright and brilliant it made my own face light up.

“Yes, Pretty Boy, get some!” Morgan said from next to us, apparently not as asleep as I had thought. I laughed out loud as Spencer flushed down to his neck. Morgan smirked and winked at the two of us.

Our fingers stayed interlaced throughout the rest of the flight as we talked in hushed tones and got to know each other. Every word out of his mouth made me fall a little deeper, a little faster. It was way too soon to call it love, but I knew it could get there. The little seed in my heart was growing exponentially, and the way his thumb danced over my skin didn’t help it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I always appreciate likes/reblogs/comments/etc! Also if you’d like to be added to my taglist just message me or comment on this! (If you’ve made it this far here’s a secret: there might be a sequel to this fic if enough people want it :))

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @rusticreid

#my fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fan fic #mine

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merry-thieves · 3 years

Text

Alastair and the Merry Thieves being friendly toward each other...(in CoI)

I hope I found all the important scenes!

““I have tried to apologize. and to change,” Alastair said, and even through the door Cordelia could hear his voice shake. “How can I make amends for my past when no one will let me?” When James replied, there was real kindness in his voice. “You must give people time, Alastair,” he said. “We are none of us perfect, and no one expects perfection. But when you have hurt people, you must allow them their anger. Otherwise it will only become another thing you have tried to take away.” Alastair seemed to hesitate. “James,” he said. “Does he-””

“...and even told Alastair that his hair looked nice.”

“She’d had no idea James knew any Persian beyond a few words for food, “thank you,” and “goodbye.” Even Alastair was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and respect.”

““You told me before that Alastair kept your father’s condition from you during your childhood. That you never knew about it.” “That’s true.” “I suppose I never realized until tonight what a great effort that must have taken. It is not an easy thing to hide. And not an easy thing to confront someone about it, if you fear they have - such an illness.””

““Bloody hell,” said Alastair. “I hope James sent him packing with a flea in his ear.” “Good for James, which are words I never thought I would speak during my lifetime.” “James will understand that.””

So, James is the first of the Merry Thieves, what we know of, to be (sort of) genuinely friendly to Alastair

it’s not a friendship but James starts to respect Alastair for what he did for Cordelia all these years

in turn Alastair also respects James and actually calls him by his first name and not “Herondale” any longer

““That was the first decent thing Alastair ever did in his life. And to think I was here to see it.””

Matthew still can’t really stand Alastair but he’ll admit to Cordelia that Alastair is not always a terrible person

“Thomas cleared his throat. His hazel eyes were steady as he said, “I came to tell you that I’m sorry about you father. I really am.””

Thomas starting to think about Alastair’s feelings again ;)

“Matthew sat down with a thump. Thomas stared at Alastair with a dazed expression. Gideon looked pleased, if not a little bit baffled by every else’s stunned expressions. “Er - what?” said Christopher - speaking for them all, James felt.”

I don’t know, I just love how Alastair surprised everyone

also, Alastair protecting Thomas but I don’t think that he had platonic reasons

“Alastair kissed Cordelia’s forehead. As he did, he closed his eyes, and James felt the strange sense that he was getting a rare glimpse at the intensity of Alastair’s true feelings.”

James seeing the real Alastair :)

““I know you don’t care particularly what happens to Alastair, but I do.” She hadn’t meant she words to come out quite so pugnaciously. After a moment, James said, “Daisy, what Alastair did was quite brave. Not in the least because he did it for someone he knows dislikes him.” “it was rather selfless,” said Lucie. “Honestly, we do care what happens to Alastair.” “We do?” Christopher sighed. “I feel as if I can never quite keep up.”

So, we have James caring for Alastair’s fate

and we see that Christopher isn’t against liking Alastair but he will only do so if the others can forgive Alastair

which probably means that he has no personal grievances with Alastair (Christopher is simply perfect <3)

I tried not to include any romantic scenes between Thomas and Alastair but rather scenes with them actually speaking with each other

“Alastair looked amused. “Never before have I ever heard such a concise statement of the ludicrous philosophy with which you and your school friends go through the world, running toward danger,” he said.”

““My point,” Thomas went on, an edge to his voice, “is that I don’t think you believe the rude things you say. And I don’t understand why you say them. It doesn’t make any sense. it’s as if you want to drive everyone away.” He paused. “Why were you so awful to us in school? We never did anything to you.””

““Then you lot arrived, a bunch of boys from famous families, too well brought up to understand at first what went on far from home. Expecting the world would embrace you. That you would be treated well. As I never had been.” Alastair pushed back a lock of hair with a shaking hand. “ I suppose I hated you because you were happy.””

“But they had spoken more truthfully to each other in the last few minutes than they had in their entire lives.”

I think we can safely assume that Thomas likes Alastair and that Alastair likes Thomas after the Sanctuary

Alastair finally told one of the Merry Thieves why he did what he did and can tell Thomas that he sees his errors

Yet, I’m not sure if Thomas has actually forgiven Alastair or just tries to repress his memories of the Academy

“Alastair looked dismayed; Thomas, who was used to his uncle’s ways, shrugged. “You’ll get used to it,” he said to Alastair. “The more alarming the situation, the more frivolous my uncle’s demeanor becomes.””

Thomas talking to Alastair in a friendly way in “public”

““Do you want some seraph blades?” Thomas was about to protest that he’s already taken several when he realized Christopher wasn’t talking to him. he was talking to Alastair, who seemed to have remained at Thomas’s side.” “Alastair nodded his thanks and took the weapons. He headed to the front doors while Thomas was still fastening his jacket. Christopher followed -”

“Thomas exchanged a quick glance with the others. He had no intention of being kept back so he could stand at a window with a witch light. If the Institute was being attacked, he wanted to be out there, defending it. It was Alastair who moved first. He started down the steps, Christopher and Thomas on his heels. Thomas coughed as the air thickened around them, suffused with the rank, damp smell of salt, fish and rotting seaweed. As they reached the bottom of the steps, Thomas’s boots came down in freezing water. He could hear Christopher exclaiming about scientific impossibilities. “Well, it might be impossible,” said Alastair, rather reasonably,“ but it’s happening.””

“He sloshed farther into the courtyard, through the ankle-deep water, Christopher and Alastair nearby.”

“Christopher shouted hoarsely and ran toward his father as shilling-size drops of scarlet blood pattered down around him. Thomas scrambled to his feet and dashed after Christopher, hurling himself at the massive tentacle. He plunged his seraph blade into the rubbery treen-black flesh, over and over, dimly aware that beside him, Alastair Carstairs was doing the same.”

“Alastair clambered onto a pile of rubble, spear in hand, turning to help Thomas up after him.”

Probably one of the best parts in the book: Alastair, Thomas and Christopher fighting together

Christopher noticing that Thomas and Alastair are seemingly on good terms and immediately being friendly to him

“Thomas had taken Cordelia aside; James heard him say something about the battle, and the name Alastair, and he saw Cordelia brighten. So Alastair was alright; James realized he was relieved about it, and not just for Cordelia’s sake. Interesting.”

James starts to actually care about Alastair’s well-being, interesting indeed James

I’m starting to sense a new and fifth member of the Merry Thieves

““Alastair,” Matthew said.” “Stuff good terms,” said Matthew. “Alastair, Cordelia assures me that you have a heart. She says you’re different than you were at school. The boy I knew at school. The boy I knew at school wouldn’t visit my brother, just to spite me. Don’t make your sister a liar; she’s a better person than you are, and if she believes in you, you should try to be someone she can believe in. I know I do.””

Not exactly a friendly conversation but Matthew actually called him “Alastair”

Though, I’m not sure what to think of what he said after that; it’s a mix of acknowledgement that Alastair can be a good person and a threat

““Alastair!” he called, again, and Alastair turned, a look of surprise crossing his face. Alastair said something to his cousin, then beckoned to Thomas as Je mood some distance away, offering them a semblance of privacy. Alastair looked at Thomas inquiringly. Thomas, who had realized almost immediately that he had no idea what to say, shifted from one foot to another. “You’re all right?” he said eventually. “I didn’t get to ask you, after the fight.””

Thomas caring about Alastair’s well-being ;)

“We cannot pretend forever,” said Alastair. “eventually the truth must be faced. All of your friends hate me, Thomas, and with good reason.”

I wanted to end with this quote since it shows what Alastair thinks the Merry Thieves think about him

in reality: Thomas is in love with Alastair (but he definitely should face his own inner demons before starting a relationship with Alastair)

Christopher seems perfectly willing to forgive Alastair and begin a friendship with him when his friends also forgive Alastair

James cares about Alastair and respects him -> possible friendship on the horizon

So, everyone basically forgave him except Matthew

Matthew and Alastair did make progress but also not really

What did you think about this whole thing? Be free to tell me if I missed some important quote and if you would add anything to my comments!

Also, should I do something similar like this again? I was thing maybe a Gracetopher or Thomastair compilation?

@thegreatests @my-lady-of-roses @foxglove-airmid @blackasmysoul

#tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tlh #the last hours #Chain of Iron #coi #choi #chain of iron spoilers #coi spoilers #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #james herondale #christopher lightwood #Matthew Fairchild #merry thieves

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Knowledge and Ambition

tw: Cursing, anxiety, insecurities, bullying/gossiping

Word count: 6.75k

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairing: Ravenclaw Kuroo x Slytherin Female Reader

AN: It’s September 1st, aka the first day of school at Hogwarts! I’ve been procrastinating on this fic for like a month or so, so I forced myself to finish this at 3 AM LMAO.

The sound of turned pages stuttered by scratching quills clung to the darkness as flames flickered around the room. You kept blinking, eyes drying from how long you’ve been focused. A sigh, and you slumped against the back of the chair. You had been sitting in this dark corner for the past three hours, pouring over text after text as you tried to wrap your head around the contents. Another sigh left you as you re-read what you wrote, dipping your black quill into the blue ink to make corrections. “It’s almost curfew, wrap it up.” Madam Pince poked her head around the bookshelf, peering over her spectacles at the tower of books you had surrounding you.

You pulled a note from your bag, standing up to give it to her. “I’m sorry Madam Pince, Professor Snape gave me permission to stay here past curfew.” She gingerly took the note from you, a scowl shadowing her face as she scrutinized it for legitimacy before turning on her heel with a huff to head back to her desk. Since you were already standing, you decided to stretch your legs and go look for that last text that should help push your claims about alternative ingredient usage and the degree of change to the potion.

Snape had always liked you as a student, especially after third year. He had caught you switching out certain roots for other herbs which still ended up with perfect potions every time. Since then, you had to be honest with your professor. You wanted to impact the Potions community, whether as someone who created a new Potion or as someone who wrote the new standard textbook. You were fortunate enough that Snape preferred Slytherins, otherwise you might not have been afforded the same opportunity that he had granted.

You sighed, (e/c) eyes scanning the shelves. Snape had recommended a very specific one. Its maroon binding caught your attention. With fingers reaching for it, they brushed against another hand. “Sorry!” You yanked your hand back, eyes following the hand up to the person. Looming over you was a familiar sight. Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and heart-throb of the school Kuroo Tetsurou stood over you.

“Sorry, I should have paid more attention.” Kuroo pulled the book out, offering it to you.

You shook your head, glancing back at your table. “It’s ok, you can use it.”

His hazel eyes followed yours, “are you sure? It must be important if you need this specifically amongst all the other ones.”

You flushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that important.”

Kuroo’s finger dragged down the maroon binding. “I was just planning on doing some light reading.” He hands it to you, clearing his throat. “What are you working on?”

You offer him a small smile. “I’m working on a research paper.”

“On what?” He looked down at the book. “I’m assuming it’s something Potions-related.”

A soft giggle left you. “Yeah, I’m conducting research on alternative ingredients use in potions and the effects of using such alternatives.” Kuroo’s eyes widened. As he opened his mouth, Madam Pince hissed another demand for silence. A loud yawn overtook your features, eyes squeezing shut. Glancing at your watch, you clicked your tongue. “It’s getting late. I’ll probably finish whatever else I can in the common room.” Kuroo frowned, he had just been about to ask if he could study with you. “Nice to meet you, Kuroo.” You scooped your books into your arms, cramming whatever would fit into your bag before sending him a wave. The maroon book felt heavy in his hands.

****

“Are you looking at (Name)?”

Kuroo flushed, whipping his head to face his best friend. Kenma just continued eating, not looking at Kuroo. “No.”

“Yes he is.” Yaku slid into the seat across from Kuroo.

“No I’m not!”

“You’re blushing.” Kai sat across from the trio, smiling pleasantly at them. Akaashi sat beside him, flipping through one of his books as he ignored them.

“Ok, maybe just a little bit.” Kuroo angrily stabbed a potato, chewing on it as he avoided his friends’ eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from peeking over at you every few seconds though. You were seated at the Slytherin table, throwing your head back in laughter as you teased your housemates.

“Isn’t she known as the Cold Princess?” Akaashi inquired, still not looking up.

Kuroo glanced over at Akaashi then to the rest of the group when he heard them all agreeing. “‘Cold Princess’?”

“Yeah, heard she’s like super mean to everyone outside of her house.” Yaku commented, sipping his pumpkin juice. “Even some of her house-mates are scared of her.”

Kuroo frowned, not seeing why they thought that. “She seemed pretty nice to me.”

“Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off of her?”

“That’s besides the point.” Kuroo scowled, elbowing Akaashi.

“Who knew we’d find a day where Kuroo Tetsurou would be smitten with a girl.” Yaku’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Let alone the Cold Princess herself.” Yaku and Kai laughed.

“I’m not smitten!” Kuroo insisted. “She’s just...different.”

“Didn’t think you’d go for a Slytherin though, Kuroo,” Kai remarked, eating some eggs.

Kuroo shrugged. “Y’know I don’t care about all those house rivalries outside of the Quidditch field.”

Kenma snorted, “yeah cause all you care about is Quidditch.”

“And my education!” Kuroo argued.

“How’d you meet her anyways?”

He looked up to Kai. “I met her a few weeks ago in the library.” Kuroo pushed his food around on the plate, glancing between it and you. This time, you were patting a blonde male on the head. He didn’t recognize him, figuring that it was probably someone from your year. Was that your boyfriend? Kuroo wondered to himself.

Kai hummed. “I see her in the library often. She always sits by herself.”

“Seriously?” Yaku glanced over at you. “I never see her.”

“She sits in the corner,” Kai replied.

As the conversation changed to their homework, Kuroo blanked out. It had been a few weeks since that chance meeting between the two of you. He’d gone into the library most days since in an effort to talk to you, but he always found you buried in your books. Kuroo hated when people interrupted him in his readings, so he would just find a table where he could observe you - in the most nonchalant and least creepy way possible - to see if he could catch you before you left. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much luck with that. He’d accidentally immerse himself in his own work, and by the time he took a break, you were either already gone or headed out the door. Hey, he was a Ravenclaw for a reason. Once he got into his reading, he was gone to the world. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself. If you guys were meant to be friends, it’ll happen. He should worry about his own work instead of a pretty Slytherin kouhai that he had only talked to for a few minutes.

****

“Miss (L.Name).” You look up at your professor’s voice.

“Yes, Professor Snape?”

“Come to my desk at the end of class.”

“Yes, sir.” Snape’s robes billowed as he turned, slinking back towards his desk. You turned back to your cauldron, waiting for your potion to change to orange. Carefully, you added powdered porcupine quills until your potion turned white. Today, Snape had your class brewing the Draught of Peace since it was one of the potions that would commonly come up during O.W.Ls. You sat back, stirring slightly before letting the potion simmer. It was a difficult potion only because getting it wrong would be dangerous. The wrong mix of ingredients, being heavy-handed with the porcupine quills or powdered moonstone could lead to irreversible sleep. The bell rang just as you added the 7 drops of hellebore. You observed your potion, satisfied. It had come out perfectly. Bottling two samples in a glass flask for Snape, you quickly cleaned up your cauldron and the area around it.

“Ugh, you’re so lucky (Name)!”

You turned to your classmate, eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

“You’re so gifted in potions.” Nishinoya, a Gryffindor in your class, glared at his potion. You stifled a laugh. His potion had somehow turned out an ugly chartreuse color. Even the fumes looked toxic as orange smoke billowed from it.

“What the hell did you do wrong this time, Nishi?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck if I knew, to be honest.” He bottled it, wincing at the repulsive smell of his potion.

You patted his back. “Well good luck with remedial potions.”

“Can’t you help me before it gets to that?” He whined. You and Nishinoya had been partnered in the third year of potions. Though you were typically more frosty, he had weaseled his way into your heart and became a close friend. Mostly by sheer persistence on his part. After all, who would willingly want to be friends with the Cold Princess of Slytherin?

“You know I’m busy.” You dead-panned, waving your wand over the cauldrons so that the contents disappeared. Together, you and Nishinoya walked up to Snape’s desk. By now, the majority of your classmates had left. Snape glanced at your potions, his gaze sliding over to Nishinoya’s and his face contorted in disgust.

“Another T, Mr. Nishinoya.” Nishinoya’s cheeks flushed pink, grimacing.

“I know, Professor.” His head hung low as he shuffled towards the door. “See you later, (Name).”

You offered the Gryffindor a wave that he didn’t see before turning back to your professor. “You asked to see me, Professor?”

Snape cleared his throat. “Yes. As you know, I rarely offer remedial classes to students.” A sneer made its way on his face. “However, Professor Dumbledore has...implored me..to be kinder this term. So, I have offered remedial classes and tutoring for struggling students this semester. As one of the more competent potioneers in my classes, I would like to request your assistance as a tutor.”

“Me?” The door opened, his next class filing in.

“That’s what I said, Miss (L.Name). Don’t make me take that back.” Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously as he began to put the flasks from your class away. “By taking on this task, I will be able to review the work you’ve assembled so far.” He cleared his throat, “and this would be a perfect opportunity for you to practice your teaching skills.”

Your eyes sparkled. Being able to dabble in academia seemed like a perfect opportunity for you to figure out where you wanted your future to go. “Of course Professor. Thank you for the opportunity!” Snape gave you a stiff nod.

“Now hurry up and get to class.” With a short bow, you spun on your heel to sprint out of the room. Your next class was Charms and you were most definitely going to be late if you didn’t hurry. Just as you reached the doorway, you collided into something tall and firm.

You yelped, stumbling back only for arms to dart around and steady you. “Oh, it’s you!” You glanced up, recognising him. “Sorry, I’m in a rush!” With a blinding smile, you patted his arms before dashing out under his arms and down the corridor.

“Get to your seat, Mr. Kuroo.” Kuroo’s head shot up, “and get that ridiculous look off of your face.” Pink crept up Kuroo’s face as he snapped his jaw shut, slinking towards his seat.

Snape began class, writing the instructions for the Potion for Dreamless Sleep onto the chalkboard. Yaku leaned over towards his housemate nudging him playfully, “you were staring again.” Pink turned to scarlet as Kuroo whipped around, shushing him. Yaku grinned, sitting back as he rewrote the instructions onto a piece of parchment. “She’s pretty.” Kuroo grunted in response, pulling out his ingredients. “Think she’s single?”

“Why are you so interested?” Kuroo snapped, glaring at the Keeper. “I thought you were scared of the Cold Princess.” Yaku just laughed, patting his back.

“No reason, Kuroo. No reason at all.”

****

“You’re late, Mr. Kuroo.”

“Sorry Professor,” Kuroo dipped his head. “Quidditch practice ran late today.”

Snape turned his nose, sneering. “Excuses do not belong in this classroom.” Snape turned on his heels, robes sweeping with the motion. “Hurry up then, or I will not grant you the extra credit.” Kuroo hurries into the classroom, glancing around at the dingy dungeon. He was glad that there were only eleven students. He froze, recognizing a familiar sight. Kuroo slips into the seat beside you, muttering a greeting to which you nodded in response. “With the exception of two students, you are all here because you have failed miserably to prove your worth in my class. However, this is your opportunity to redeem yourself.” Snape glowered at each and every one of the remedial students, sending chills down their spines. “Don’t squander it.”

With that, he turned and walked to the blackboard, writing down the recipe for the Shrinking Potion. Placing the chalk down, he sends one final glare to the students before going to his desk. You step in front of the blackboard, smirking at the students. “This is a simple potion that any third-year should be able to do. Follow these instructions, and Kuroo and I will be walking around to provide you help should you need it.” More chills ran up the students’ back at your last words. It was obvious that you weren’t keen on helping them should they need it.

Kuroo pinched his nose, looking around the room. As he walked around, a tall grey-haired fourth-year Slytherin caught his attention. “Can you please help me, Kuroo?” He begged.

“What seems to be the problem?”

The male winced as the potion billowed up green gas. “That,” he replied lamely.

“You added the Shrivelfig too early,” Kuroo’s eyes widened, casting a charm to dispel the gas. “You’re going to have to start all over.”

“What?! I don’t want to,” he whined. The slamming of a book caused them both to flinch, both sets of eyes darting to Snape who glared at them. “Aren’t you a Ravenclaw? Help me fix this!”

“You literally created poison gas,” Kuroo responded, pinching his nose.

Raising his wand to vanish the potion, a hand grabbed his wrist. “Lev, what did you do this time?” You pinched your nose with one hand as you stared at the potion.

“Something about Shrivelfig,” Lev muttered, crossing his arms. “I don’t see why I need to start over though!”

Your face softened. “Look, Lev, this potion has become dangerous. Do you want to fail this class and potentially hurt your fellow classmates?” You glanced at Kuroo who pulled his arm away and tucked his wand back into his robe pocket. “If it wasn’t for Kuroo’s quick-thinking, the fumes would have overtaken the class and we would be in some serious danger.” You patted the male’s head. “Here, I’ll stay with you and make sure you do it right, ok? That way you don’t have to stay extra long.”

Lev perked up. “Okay! Thanks, (Name).”

You grinned, before glancing back at Kuroo. “You can help the others now, Kuroo. Thank you for your quick-thinking.”

Heat crept up his neck as he shook his head. “It was nothing,” he replied dismissively.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Whatever you say.” You turned back to Lev, vanishing the potion. “Let’s get started then, shall we Lev?” Kuroo stood there for a few moments, watching with slight amazement as you carefully guided Lev through the procedures. You looked in your element as you sliced the caterpillars and showed the younger student the best way to peel Shrivelfig. Another student called for Kuroo’s attention, snapping him out of his stupor. As Kuroo proceeded to help the others, he couldn’t help but survey you in the corner of his eyes. Perhaps there was a softer side to the Cold Princess after all.

****

Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief, stretching his shoulders. Due to the raging thunderstorm outside, he’d made the executive decision to cancel Quidditch classes. Exam season was coming up, and there was no reason to put his players’ health at risk if they could avoid it. Besides, they were doing pretty well this season. He walked up the stone stairs, following them to the library. As he entered, he couldn’t help the grimace that slid onto his face. It appeared that everyone thought to study today as the library was completely packed. He poked around, searching for an empty table only to find none. Kuroo sighed, contemplating whether or not he should go back to the dorms in order to study when he spotted you at your usual table. Luckily enough, nobody else had joined you at the table.

Steeling his nerves, Kuroo began walking towards you. As he made his journey, he picked up some whispers as people threw dark looks in your direction.

“Of course the Cold Princess would monetize an entire table.” A younger Ravenclaw scoffed.

“She threatened to hex me when I came too close,” a Hufflepuff whimpered.

“Me too!” Another Hufflepuff whispered in response.

“She said that people ruin her concentration,” a Gryffindor sneered to his housemates.

Kuroo stopped by your table, waiting anxiously for you to acknowledge him. Your nose was firmly buried into your parchment, and after a few awkward minutes of waiting, it was obvious that you weren’t going to say anything. Clearing his throat, Kuroo said, “hi.” Internally, Kuroo was screaming. ‘Hi’? Is that really all he was going to say?

You jolted, looking up at him and blinking rapidly with weary eyes. “K-Kuroo?” You stammer, rubbing one of your eyes.

Kuroo adjusted his bag awkwardly. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, gesturing to the other tables. “Everywhere else is full. Do you mind if I join you?”

You stare at him with sharp (e/c) eyes. Seconds dragged on, a cold sweat swept through his body and he was regretting every decision he had made since entering the library until you gave him a stiff nod. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Relief washed over him as he grinned. “Thank you so much, I promise I won’t be a bother.” You only gave him another stiff nod before you moved your books around to give him more space. Sliding into the chair beside you, Kuroo pulled out his Transfiguration homework.

The pair of you work in silence for an hour before you get up, stretching. Students flinched as you make your way down the shelves, burying themselves into their books or ducking behind empty aisles in order to avoid you. Just as quickly as you had gotten up, you had already plopped back into your seat. “Y’know, you’re a lot quieter than I expected,” you comment, flicking through the latest volumes you had pulled.

Kuroo glanced up, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

Clearing your throat, your eyes met his. “I mean that for someone as popular as you are, you sure are quiet.”

A red glow warmed his features. “I wouldn’t say that I’m popular.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ya sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure being a Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and a top-ranking student are all qualities of popular students.”

At your comment, he raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, kitten,” he teased.

You glowered at the nickname. “Don’t call me kitten.”

“Ok….kitten.”

****

It became routine for you and Kuroo to meet at the library now. It was very rare that either of you missed a session. Your dark corner was brightened by his presence. Once the clock rang a certain hour, you were already moving the stacks of books to the side to make room for the rooster-head captain as he slunk in after Quidditch practice. He’d used to come directly after, only for you to yell at him to go to his dorm and shower, which would end up delaying him by twenty minutes. With that extra time, you’d sneak into the kitchen and snag some food for you both.

Your quill scratched the parchment as you took down more notes from the text. The wooden chair besides you creaked, but your eyes remained on the book. “Hello, Kuroo.” You flipped a page, scanning the text for more information.

“Hey kitten.” The soft thump of his bag falling onto the ground had you looking up.

“You look tired,” you noted, surveying his face. Eye-bags darkened his face, not helped by the shadows of the flickering flames. “Maybe you should sleep early today.”

Kuroo shook his head. “No, I really have to finish this paper.” He pulled out his Transfiguration book.

“Do you have patrol later?” You chewed on your bottom lip, brows furrowed. Kuroo nodded glumly. “Alright, skip it.”

“I can’t just skip patrol,” Kuroo laughed, sipping at the pumpkin juice that you’d smuggle in.

“You can if someone takes it for you.” You looked back down at your books. “I’ll do your patrol for you.”

Kuroo choked, coughing. “W-what?” Madam Pince threw him a disgusted look as she hmph’d at her desk. “You can’t do that.” You shrugged, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. Kuroo let out a soft yelp. “What was that for?”

You pulled back your hand, carefully examining the hair. “For the polyjuice potion.” A few months ago, you’d decided to try your hand at brewing polyjuice potion on a whim. You hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, so this was the perfect opportunity.

“What?!”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed, looking up over her books at you both. You folded the hair into a napkin, carefully tucking it into your robes.

Kuroo lowered his voice. “What do you mean polyjuice potion? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Well it’s not exactly like I have a time-turner,” you rolled your eyes. “Nor am I a Metamorphmagus.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” Kuroo surveyed you. For someone who was advertised as just another ‘big bad Slytherin’, you had such an incredibly soft side.

You shrugged, pushing a sandwich in his direction. “Eat up.” You took a bite out of your own sandwich.

As you pulled your hand back, a warm weight dropped onto it. You swallowed, looking up. “Thank you.” His eyes sparkled. “I really appreciate you.”

Averting your eyes, your cheeks glowed. You hoped that the candle-light would hide it. “Just take care of yourself, rooster-head.”

****

“I heard what happened.”

You glanced up, grimacing. During potions, you had been helping Nishinoya only for his potion to explode everywhere. Snape ended up assigning him detention for the next month as well as remedial classes three times a week. You really weren’t sure how Nishinoya had fucked up his Wit-raising potion. But you’d walked away laughing, with admittedly terrible burns. You’d ended up teasing the boy saying that he needed to drink your wit-raising potion before he was allowed to speak to you again.

“How are you doing?” Kuroo pressed.

You let the utensils slip out of your fingers as you displayed your heavily bandaged hands up. “Miserable.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help?” You shook your head, frowning. There was still a residual stinging in your fingers. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Only your hands are messed up, I’m sure you heard me just fine.” Kuroo waved his hands, forcing you aside. He took your seat, pulling your plate towards him.

“Kuroo, this is the Slytherin table, what the hell are you doing?” He shushed you, cutting up the meat on your plate. “Kuroo, I can take care of myself.”

He fixed you with a hard stare, pushing the plate towards you. “Prove it then.” You glared at him, as you picked up the fork and knife. Pain coursed through your fingers but you simply bit your tongue, not wanting him to win. You focused on keeping your face blank, breathing deeper than you wanted. With sluggish movements, you sawed through the meat. Hazel eyes surveyed you, flicking between your hands and your face.

“See?” You proclaimed, stabbing the meat and waving it in his face. He shrugged, holding his hands up.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” You glared at him, ice creeping through your heart. Eating it, you attempted to cut more meat only to drop the fork with a violent curse. It felt like someone had poured molten lava over your hands. Glaring at your fingers, you aggressively shoved the plate towards Kuroo who raised an eyebrow at you. “I thought you could do it yourself?”

“Help.”

“I didn’t quite hear that, kitten.”

You rolled your eyes at the pet-name. “Just help me, Kuroo.”

“I didn’t hear the magic word,” he teased, pulling the plate towards himself.

“Please,” you muttered, tears pricking at your eyes. Kuroo paused, taking a moment to pat you on the head.

“Of course, silly. I’m always here to help you.” You offered him a small smile, before whispers from the Ravenclaw table caught your attention.

“What’s Kuroo doing with her?”

“Doesn’t he know that she’s a cold-hearted bitch?”

“He’s gonna get his heart broken.”

“Bet you she’s going to curse him behind his back.”

“Or poison him.” They snickered.

More tears welled up in your eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, turning your face away from him.

The clinks of cutlery stopped. “Do what?”

“Help me.”

A hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up. He leaned forward, warm breath humming against your ear. “Keep your chin up, Princess, your crown is falling,” he whispered before he pulled back, brushing your hair aside. Scarlet roses bloomed in your cheeks. Cold Princess echoed in your mind. Kuroo cleared his throat, turning back to the plate, hiding his own pink flush. “Besides, you saved my ass the other week. This is the least that I can do for you.”

You chewed on your lip. Of course. He was returning a favor. Just a favor. Nothing more, nothing less.

****

“I won’t be here tomorrow.” You looked up from the Honeydukes chocolate that he had brought you, tilting your head. “I have to patrol early, so I won’t be able to make this.” He gestured to the table. Your tower of books had slowly diminished in size, only a small stack remained. In between your rolls of parchment and his own books was an abundance of candies. You’d miss the Hogsmeade trip earlier that day due to another remedial lesson with Lev. Kuroo leaned forward, wiping away a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t do that.” You whipped your face away, hoping that the darkness would hide the crimson glow. You cleared your throat. “That’s fine. It’s not like you’re of any help, you always distract me.”

“So I guess I should take back all this candy then,” Kuroo teased, reaching for it. You snatched it up, pulling it close to your chest. Kuroo let out a disgustingly loud bark of laughter causing you to cringe. Madam Pince snarled in annoyance at you both.

“Keep laughing like that and I’ll use a Silencing charm on you,” you threatened, tucking the chocolates away into your bag.

Kuroo reclined in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “You say that, but you know you like it.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Kuroo.”

The next day, you couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was...too quiet. Of course, being in a library meant that it should be quiet. But you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. The bell chimed, and like clock-work, you began shifting your books to the side. Mid-motion, you froze, eyebrows creasing as you frowned. Why were you moving your stuff? It’s not like anyone was joining you tonight. You cursed silently. Of course you’d gotten used to him. You vaguely remembered a Muggle psychology term: mere exposure effect. The more you became familiar with something or were exposed to it, the more you’d have a preference for it. You violently slammed the books back to where they were, earning another reprimand from Madam Pince. Studying by yourself just became excruciatingly difficult.

Meanwhile, Kuroo was absent-mindedly flying down the corridors. His long legs allowed him to stride down the halls in a dozen steps or so, forcing his partner to sprint in order to keep up. “Jesus, Kuroo, what’s got you in a hurry?” Bokuto, the Hufflepuff Prefect, puffed.

“Huh?” Kuroo paused, only to have Bokuto slam into his back. “Oh lord, I am so sorry Bokuto.”

The Hufflepuff winced, prying himself off of Kuroo’s back, rubbing his nose. “It’s fine.” Kuroo continued down the hall, slower this time. “What’s got you all distracted?” Kuroo shrugged, opening one of the classrooms and looking around. He shut the door with a sigh, before rushing down the hall once more, the slower pace already forgotten. Bokuto scurried after him. “Or should I say, who is on your mind?”

At this, Kuroo whirled around. “What do you mean?”

Bokuto bellowed with laughter. “I heard that you were talking to someone, but I didn’t know it was this serious.”

“Shut up.” The dark halls did nothing to save Kuroo as he stepped into a pool of moonlight.

“Aw, you’re blushing!” Bokuto cackled, bending over as his rambunctious laughter echoed in the halls.

“Shut up!”

Bokuto wiped a tear away from his eyes. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

Kuroo huffed, blowing his hair up. “Maybe.”

The Hufflepuff clapped a hand over his back. “I’m rooting for ya.”

“I’ll need it,” Kuroo muttered. He pulled himself out of Bokuto’s grip. “C’mon, let’s just finish this patrol.”

****

“Alright, I’m off.” You waved to your housemates, picking up your books as you left the Great Hall.

“Make sure you come watch me play, sweetheart!” Atsumu shouted after you, waving eagerly. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. You rarely ever went to Quidditch matches, let alone to support someone. That’s something you’d reserve for romantic partners, not house-mates. The few times you’d gone were because Snape offered extra points to everyone who attended. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

It was just any other Saturday morning and you would be headed back to your sanctuary: the library. A voice called out behind you, thundering footsteps following. You turned, stopping in the middle of the doorway. “Good morning, Kuroo.” You offered him a small smile that he returned.

“Hey (Name)!” He hugged you, pulling you into his chest; your heart pounded against your own. He’s never hugged you before. “Will you be going to the match later?” Kuroo released you and you took a few steps back.

Holding up the book, you shook your head hoping that he didn’t see your flushed face. “No, Professor Snape gave me this book so I was going to work on it.”

“Aw that’s too bad, I was really hoping you’d come cheer for me.” Kuroo grinned before he draped a blue and bronze scarf around your neck.

Your cheeks glowed like ripe apples, eyes wide. “Kuroo!” Your jaw dropped.

“See you there!” With a cheeky smile, he waved running back towards his friends.

An hour later, you found yourself walking down towards the Quidditch pitch. “Thought you didn’t go to Quidditch matches?” You crossed your arms, unamused. “And you’re wearing a Ravenclaw scarf? Talk about a traitor!” Osamu pinched your cheeks, tugging on it.

“Shut up, ‘Samu,” you scowled, shoving him away. “Are you finished yet?”

He shrugged. “Dunno why you even bothered to come.” He led you up the stands towards the Slytherin section. “Or why you’re sitting with us.”

“I’m a Slytherin!” You pouted, glaring at his back. Osamu just laughed.

“Yer still wearin’ a Ravenclaw scarf though. Don’t think I missed that display in the Great Hall.” He cackled as you slapped his back. “Didn’t know ya had a thing for the Captain.”

You cleared your throat as you guys arrived at your destination. You greeted your house-mates, settling besides Osamu. “Why aren’t you playing, ‘Samu?”

Osamu scowled, glaring at you. “Shaddup.” You chuckled, leaning back in your seat. Osamu was also on the team, but this year, the captain had decided to let more of the sixth and seventh years play. Atsumu was the only fifth-year on the team at the moment. You were grateful for the twins who had rapidly become your best friends since you’d started at Hogwarts. Both of them were ‘no-nonsense’ and didn’t care that you were plagued with nasty nicknames due to your ‘cold-hearted’ demeanor.

“Ooh, look they’re starting.” As the match goes on, you can’t help but let your eyes trail the Ravenclaw captain. To say the least, you were impressed. He radiated a different energy from what he normally did during your late-night study sessions in the library. During those, he just seemed goofy and studious. But here, you could see the whole other side to him. The way he communicated with his team-mates, how happy he looked everytime one of their plays worked out, the satisfaction that seemed to completely fill him after he scored. He simply exuded a different type of confidence that you’ve never seen from him before. Your eyes widened with awe as he shuffled between the other Chasers, throwing the Quaffle to each other and thoroughly confusing the Slytherin chasers. As Kuroo scored, you couldn’t help the, “Whoooo, go Kuroo!” that escaped your lips.

Osamu jabbed you in the side, muttering, “traitor” but even that couldn’t wipe away the smile from your face. You were never interested in Quidditch, but maybe now you had a reason to be.

The game quickly ended with Kenma snagging the Snitch out from Oikawa’s nose, leading to Atsumu flying towards the stands where you and Osamu were sitting. “Hey, ya made it sweetcheeks!” Atsumu cheered, hovering above your head in front of you.

You cleared your throat. “Nice job out there, ‘Tsumu.”

“I know right? I was definitely the star, wasn’t I?” He grinned.

You pulled your cloak closer; it was getting late and cold. You desperately wanted to be back in the castle already. “If you were the real star, you would’ve won,” you shrugged. Osamu chuckled besides you as Atsumu squawked indignantly.

“Oi, Atsumu!” Oikawa called, flying over. “C’mon, hit the showers. You can try to impress your girl later.” Oikawa patted your head, “hey there, (Name).”

“Hey Oikawa.” You offered him a small smile. “Sorry about the game. You did great out there though.”

“Thank you~!” He sang, flying lower so that he could pull you into a hug. You yelped at the sudden intrusion. “Lemme just have this moment of comfort,” he whined as you clawed at his arms in an attempt to struggle out of his grip. Defeated, you let the captain hang onto you, awkwardly patting his back.

“You guys reek,” you muttered, looking away from the pair. “Go shower.”

Finally escaping from the clingy twins and Oikawa, you let out a sigh of relief. You tugged your bag higher onto your shoulder as you made your way down the familiar path. Just as you were about to enter the library, a familiar voice called after you. Turning, your eyes widened. “Kuroo?”

He slowed to a stop in front of you, winded slightly before he offered you a wide cheeky grin. “Hey there Princess!”

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?”

He shrugged, “I had to see my girl first.”

Heat crawled up through your body. You cleared your throat. “Your girl?”

“Well yeah! Especially after how loudly you were cheering for me,” he teased.

“And it’s Kuroo Tetsurou with the quaffle after a successful Sabryn steal from Miya Atsumu. He passes it to Sugawara Koushi, who passes it right back over Iwaizumi Hajime’s head. And Kuroo scores! Right through Matsukawa Issei’s finger-tips!”

Kuroo did a loop, whooping before he soared beside Suga, giving the male a high-five. Mattsun grabbed the quaffle, putting it back into play. Kuroo smirked, darting off towards Atsumu who had the quaffle. They end up on the Ravenclaw side, with Iwaizumi attempting to score. Yaku successfully receives the ball, throwing it at Kuroo. “You’re playing better than ever today, Kuroo,” Yaku grins. “Better keep on impressing your girlfriend.” Kuroo scowled at the keeper. He hadn’t even seen you in the audience, who was to say that you were there at all?

Kuroo rolled his eyes, glancing over at Suga and Akaashi. Giving the males a curt nod, they enter the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. “Another Thimblerig Shuffle by the Ravenclaws! The Quaffle is bouncing around. Akaashi. Kuroo. Suga. Akaashi. Kuroo. And Kuroo takes the quaffle and scores once again! Slytherin does not look happy folks.” Loud cheers fill the stadium from the Ravenclaw, but as Kuroo flies back around the field, a lone cheer from the Slytherin section catches his attention. His head whips around, eyes widening at the sight. There you were, bundled up in his Ravenclaw scarf and actually cheering for him. Emotions flood his body, he hadn’t expected you to actually come or to actually wear his scarf. He couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto his face. Kuroo let out another loud whoop, before doing a heart-shaped loop in the air. A Bludger zoomed past him, drawing his attention back to the game. He’d have to deal with his emotions later. He had a game to win, and a girl to impress after all.

You choked on air, averting your eyes. “Yeah well, you looked cool.”

Kuroo grinned, “thanks kitten.”

You stared down at your book, fingers tracing the binding. “Anyways, your girl? I didn’t know you were serious.”

It was his turn to avoid your eyes. “I mean! You were wearing my scarf,” he stammered.

“You gave it to me,” you fired back, amusement flickering in your eyes as you observed him. Kuroo turns completely red at this, kicking at the stone floors awkwardly. You clear your throat, eyes softening. “Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend and we’ll talk about our relationship status then.”

Relief floods his system as he eagerly nods. “I can make that happen.”

“Well good.” You smile, heading into the library only for Kuroo to follow you. “Again, don’t you have a party to get to?”

He shrugged, “rather spend time with you to be honest.”

“Don’t let your team-mates hear you,” you grin as you guys make your way to your usual table. Kuroo just ruffled your hair, smiling as you both took a seat. After an hour or so of studying, you snapped your book shut. “Actually, let’s do something.”

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You shrugged. “Find Hogwarts’ mysteries?”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, a sly smile making its way onto his face. “Y’know, I hear there are some cursed chambers hidden in Hogwarts.”

“Breaking curses, treasure hunting? Sounds like my kind of date,” you smirk, packing your stuff away. Kuroo throws his head back in a boisterous laugh, only to be scolded by Madam Pince. You stood up, standing beside him before making your way out. “Y’know, you could have easily been a Slytherin,” you teased, bumping your hip into his as you held the textbooks to your chest.

He smirked, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you both walked out of the library. “Why’s that?”

“You have more ambition than I do.” You shrugged his arm off of your shoulder. “You leave the library just as late as I do after coming here after your Quidditch practices and then heading straight to your Prefect duties. Hard-work goes hand-in-hand with ambition, Kuroo.” He plucked one of the books out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Well, Little Miss Slytherin, you could definitely have been a Ravenclaw.” Kuroo held the book over your head, flicking through the pages. “Your thirst for knowledge is never quite quenched.”

You flush. “Well, a quest for knowledge is an ambitious one, isn’t it?”

He hummed, pulling the rest of your books out of your hands while ignoring your cries of protest. He tucks them into his right side, slipping his left hand into yours. “I guess us together makes the perfect Slytherin and Ravenclaw, doesn’t it?” Kuroo squeezed your hand, looking down at you. You grinned, giving him a light squeeze. Being together just felt right. He brought out your inner Ravenclaw, and you brought out his inner Slytherin. Knowledge and ambition went hand-in-hand, just like you and Kuroo.

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dclsbaby · 3 years

Text

mykonos-crossed lovers (part ii) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part ii

prologue

part i

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angst angst and more angst

Author’s Note: part 2 is finally out! thank you so much for the continued love on MCL, i can't accurately put into words how much it means to me seeing all the positive responses! i hope i haven't upset you too much on last chapter’s cliffhanger, and if so, i hope this one makes up for it a little bit 🤍 please let me know what you think! xx

Gif:

***

“It’s funny, I’ve flown out to this island to forget you, yet here you are. I can’t ever get away from you can I?” Dom asks, rather rhetorically. Shocked, you turn your head and see your ex standing in front of you, in Mykonos, of all places. You cringed at his honesty, but you can’t say you didn’t escape to the warmer climates for the same reason. “Hi, Dom,” you smile at him. “The boys are here?” you ignore his initial remark. “Yeah, Mase, Davo, and Ben are sat there,” he gestures to a table close by yours. “Luke’s flying out tomorrow”, he says. “So the full team,” you comment. “It seems you’re in for quite a holiday then,” you add.

He walks ahead to stand next to you, his toned arms resting on the white border, dangerously close to yours and he takes in the view you’ve been absorbing. Silence fills the space between you two. A little to quiet for both of your likings, you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beat out of your chest. You decide to break the silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” you asked, voice a little shaky, unsure if you even wanted to know. You looked up at Dom, and caught him sniggering at the question. “Never better,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got my call-up, ball finding the back of the net week in week out, all’s well. You?” he shifts his body to look at you. “Well,” you pause to face him. “I’m on a tropical island with my girls, away from work and grey British skies, so I’m enjoying it,” you replied.

“British Vogue is it?” he asks. You landed the job a couple of months after your breakup. It was the job you needed to make a life out of yourself, to have a career you loved. It was a job you left him for. So, to say that you were good at it was an understatement. If you had to endure the pain of a devastating heartbreak for your career, it had to mean everything to you. And it was. It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember, you have always loved fashion, and this love was complemented when you began dating your ex who has an eccentric fashion sense, always straying away from the mainstream mediocrity, which somehow, he always pulls off. It’s a gift.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”, you were curious. “Mum’s told me about it, she’s proud of you, by the way,” he stops to look at you. “Sounds like a big deal,” he says as he lets out a small smile. It’s the first time he’s ever shown some warmth since the conversation started. You smile back at him and nodded. “It’s been my dream since forever, if you remember,” you look up at him. “And that’s lovely from your mum, do let her know that I miss her,” your heart warms thought of his mum. “Of course you do, you two would gang up on me whenever she’s around,” Dom chuckles. “Only because we both know how obnoxious you could be,” you joke. “Obnoxious enough for you to break my heart I see,” he jokes as he smiles at you sadly. “I d-didn’t mean it like that,” you feel terrible. “I know, I was messing with you,” he lied. A part of him wants you to know that his heart is still broken.

Two people, former lovers, with so much shared memories, once each other’s worlds, reunite in unexpected circumstances.

“I miss you, you know,” Dom says. Your head turns to face him as you try to catch a look of his eyes that are looking down on his fingers. Standing at 6’2, you had to crane your neck to properly look at him. A painfully gorgeous man, his green-hazel eyes still shine so bright despite the evening sky, lips so full waiting to be touched, his curly locks tied up in a bun only to accentuate his perfectly sculpted jaws. He is so beautiful, the pain so visceral, so intense.

***flashback***

“It’s not fair,” your best friend said. “You two would make the most gorgeous babies,” you and Dom chuckled at her comment. “When they’ve got a mother with a face like this I’d imagine it to be difficult to not produce beautiful babies,” Dom says as he cups your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You did not just say ‘produce’!” you move away from him, jokingly made a disgusted face and laughed at his choice of words.

Later that night as you two were tucked in bed, you drift off into a daydream which caught Dom’s attention. “What are you thinking of in that little head of yours babe?” he asked. You softly smile at him. “You really think we’d have babies?” you asked as you look at him. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting his body so it’s resting on his side, with his knuckles supporting his head up. “I mean, is this where we are headed?”, you clarified. Dom runs his fingers through your hair. “I absolutely wouldn’t mind having babies with you,” he pauses as he moves closer to you. “I want no one else more than you, to be the mother of my children, my partner through it all,” he looks at you with loving eyes. “You mean it?” you asked, a little surprised at his honesty. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says as he pulls your body closer to his.

***

Dreams of starting a family with who you thought was the love of your life quickly shatter as you realise where you were; stood in front of him, both with hearts that need mending.

“Don’t do this,” you quietly say as you stare into his eyes. “What? It’s true,” he shrugs. “I miss you and I thought you should know. You should know how much you’re hurting me by not being with me,” Dom confesses. The alcohol has definitely kicked in, Dom thought to himself. Liquid courage got him pouring out the subconscious thoughts he’d never unlock without a little help. “Dom, please. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you close your eyes for a second. “You’ve had a lot to drink, you should go be with the guys,” you say as you take your arms off the wall. “Come, I’ll take you back,” you say as you lightly push his elbow to lead the way.

“What more do I have to do to show you that I am still in love with you? Fuck’s sake,” he says as he mutters the last two words. He quickly turns around to face you, shocking you in the process as you drop your arm. “I don’t know, Dom, maybe not have tabloids put pictures of you and different girls on its covers I’d assume?” you sarcastically said, referencing to the covers you have seen of him from the week before.

Dom cringed at your comment and shakes his head. “You seriously can’t believe what those tabloids say-they blow things out of proportion!” he says as he flails his arm out of frustration. “And did you expect me not to see other people? What was I supposed to do, sit and mope around, waiting for you to come back to me? Please, do enlighten me!” he encourages. “Tell me how I can get over you because I am desperate to get you out of my fucking head,” he rants angrily, loud enough to get the attention of several guests.

He pauses to catch his breath. Before opening his mouth again to spill his suppressed thoughts.

“You were my heart, my soul, my whole fucking body—my entire life revolved around you!” he yelled, not as loud, but his frustration was emphasised as he stresses every syllable. Every bit of pride he held onto dissipates, showing his true feelings that still held onto you.

Offended, you retaliated. “You act as if I didn’t do the same for you! But I’m not stood here telling you how much I’ve missed you after I’ve fucked about with random guys!” you replied, matching his volume.

“I’ve never fucked anyone since you, so don’t ever fucking accuse me of that,” he says in disgust. “And you have no right to tell me how I should cope, when you left me! You were the one who left!”, he points at you repeatedly. “You left me with nothing,” he says nearly out of breath, and drops his arms to his sides.

“It surely didn’t seem like it when you go through girls like they’re some kind of pitstop!” you angrily responded. “I was fucking hurt! You fucking broke me! I was sad and desperate, give me a fucking break!” he says as he brings his hands to his forehead. “And don’t act so innocent,” he spits out. You give him a confused face, unsure as to what he meant. “I know you’ve been out with him,” he emphasises. “Yeah, our friends talk,” he states the obvious.

You knew who he was talking about. The friend he fell out with, another footballer friend. Things got too competitive, the words exchanged at the end of a match too harsh to redeem with a handshake. The same friend who could’ve sworn he chatted you up first, but you and Dom’s connection was too strong to deny. Of course, it was nothing like he insinuated. His friend, or, former friend, rather, had dipped his toes into the world of fashion, which caught the attention of your seniors. They assigned you to an interview with him, knowing your connections in the sporting industry and knowledge of it, as you dated a footballer after all. “Th-that was nothing,” you shake your head in disbelief, shocked at what you’re being accused of. “Bullshit,” he curses. He still remembers the day he saw you two on the news. Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s Ex Moves On with His England Teammate?, the headline says. Beneath it were pictures of his former friend sitting opposite you, as you two enjoy each other’s company at his favourite breakfast place in London. It is your favourite too. He recalls trying to ignore the jealousy, he tried to stop reading gossip sites that had the tendency to over-exaggerate, but he couldn’t. It made him angry, so angry, he threw his phone across the room and smashed it into a wall, its screen shattering. Sick and nauseous, he ran to the bathroom and dunk his head into a toilet bowl, dispensing the contents of that day’s breakfast. The effect you had on him was still potent and undying.

Your conversation was interrupted when you feel a hand wrap its fingers around the back of your arm, surprising you as you jump a little. “Hi, hun, everything okay?”, asked two of your friends, who spotted you as they were making their way to the bathroom. You nodded and gave them a smile, “I’m okay,” you whispered. They were beyond shocked to have seen Dom, but they knew better than to mention the obvious. “Give us a shout if you need anything,” your other friend says softly. You nodded. Your friends waved at Dom, then walked to where they were headed, which Dom did the same before you two returned to your conversation.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Dom,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You know why I had to end things with you, I honestly thought you understood,” you say as you try your best to blink the tears away. “No, I never understood, and I still fucking don’t,” he says as his large hand grips the surface of the wall.

“None of this makes any sense to me! I understand that it is important for you to prioritise your career, be in control of your life or whatever it was you said,” he throws a hand up. “But I will never understand why you had to sacrifice me in the process, of all things,” he replies with absolute honesty. “So, what? You expect me to drop every possibility of starting a career instead, and invest all my time and energy in you?” you ask in disbelief. “That’s not fair, Dom!” you argue.

Dom throws his head back out of frustration as you cross your arms. “I would’ve fully supported you every step of the way, given you the space you needed, anything!” he responds. “But instead you left, and took my entire life with you,” he argues back, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You didn’t have to leave,” he quietly says.

You two look at each other in silence, both feeling the pain the other endured. The pain heavy, overwhelming, a sinking feeling.

“I wasn’t trying to compromise you,” you say softly. “I had felt so detached from myself and made you the centre of my life and I was fucking terrified, Dom,” you try to justify yourself. “Had you left me at any point, I wouldn’t have survived it,” you sigh.

“Had I left you? How could you ever assume that? You think I am strong enough to be apart from you for even just a day? For fuck’s sake,” he curses as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I never said you would, I said if you did,” you clarify.

“So, you’re saying you left me purely due to a hypothetical scenario? Come fucking on. Don’t you fucking get it?,” he pauses. “You left me because you were afraid you couldn’t live without me, when that was never the case to begin with. If anything, it was the other way around,” he mutters the last sentence, just enough for you to hear.

“What?”, you asked, looking up at him.

“If one of us were to be too attached to the other person, it would be me. I’m not even fucking ashamed to admit that. I’m just pissed you assumed I could ever leave you. And that you broke my heart,” he reveals, a little too much for his liking but he didn’t care. You had to know.

“I-I never knew you were this upset,” you reply, still trying to process what he just said. “Clearly,” Dom says with sarcasm. “All you do is assume,” he comments. “That’s not fair,” you respond. “None of this is,” he quickly says. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to make you feel that way,” you try to assure him. “Yeah okay,” he looks away.

Silence fills the room once again. What used to only be comfortable silence between you two turned into awkward, deafening silence. Silence between two people still in love with one another, both stubborn, both hotheaded, both their egos in the way.

You hated this. You wanted out. Your heart could no longer handle the different coexisting emotions, the sadness, anger, exasperation, confusion, equally intense, equally felt. It was all too much.

“I-I think I’m just going to go, it’s been lovely to see you, I'm sorry again Dom, truly. Have a great-“, “You’re fucking joking,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. You sigh, surprised at this interruption. “What now, Dom?” you asked, a little agitated.

“You’re leaving? After I’ve poured my heart out to you? Fucking pathetic that,” he said angrily. “What else was I supposed to say, Dom! I told you I was sorry, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you! What more do you want?”, you responded with aggravation.

“YOU! I want you! How could you be so dense? Honestly, fuck this—you broke my fucking heart and I am not going to let you walk away from me again,” he gestures angrily. “This time I’m leaving you, have a great fucking night,” he says as he storms off, taking half of your heart with him.

At that moment, it felt as though every effort you had put into moving on, all your self-care nights, girls night outs, mental health days, music playlists of happy songs, immersing yourself in work, suddenly meant nothing. All your efforts were countered, destroyed after seeing him again for the first time in months. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave you standing alone, under the blue Mykonos sky with the most breathtaking view of the island, whilst heartbroken once again. The perfect irony.

You were left in shock. You could see Dom walking through the crowd where everybody was partying from your peripheral vision. It took him way too quickly for your liking to wrap his arms around a certain blonde-haired girl in a blue dress you recognised from tabloid pictures. You feel a sharp pain in your chest from a sight you never wanted to see. You knew you had no right to feel this way since you were the one who left, but it hurt you nonetheless.

Two things could’ve come out of this scenario. You could a) suck it up, take three straight tequila shots and party the night away with your girls, who are increasingly growing concerned about your whereabouts, or b) you could call it a night and figure your heart out.

After moments of deliberation, you chose the latter option. The intense conversation you had with Dom was too emotionally draining for you to continue on. Seeing your ex on the exact trip you booked with your girls to remedy your heartache, listening to him tell you how much you’ve broken his heart, how he wants you, but proceed to wrap his arms around another girl minutes after, all in one night... you could not bear it all. You quietly made a swift exit and made sure to text your girls’ group chat as you’re walking.

Babes, I’m heading back to the villa. Rough night. Details tomorrow. Will leave some paracetamol on the counter. Be safe and have a blast! Love you. X

You took the furthest route towards the exit door away from the party scene, not giving your friends a chance to even stop you. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself together as your heart crumbles. The only affection you could seek from is yourself. The pain of growth slowly paying off, as you manage to at least leave the scene in one piece.

However, despite extra efforts to not get noticed, Dom caught you slipping out of the club.

You stood outside the breezy Mykonos night and waited for your taxi to come. What just happened? You thought to yourself. You were a bit tipsy from the drinks, your tired body making you feel a little delirious. It seemed like it was all a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but it isn’t. That actually happened. You inhale the fresh air, and pace your breathing to calm your nerves. The background music spilling from the narrow gaps of the doors slowly fade as you close your eyes and focus on your peace.

Peaceful silence suddenly interrupted by a loud sound of doors bursting open.

What the fuck was that? you thought to yourself as you turn your head towards the loud noise. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw Dom clumsily stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” you asked, completely taken aback. “I saw you walk out,” he says out of breath. “And I know you like to go on walks to clear your head. I was making sure you weren’t, this isn’t the place where you could do that safely,” he continued. “I know, I’m waiting for a taxi,” you say quietly. Dom nodded. “Okay,” he looks away. “Be safe,” he says as he looks at you one last time. You look at him with a sad smile and nod.

As Dom retreats back into the club, he had to hold his chest, clutching where his heart is to contain the pain of seeing you force a smile at him, it was too intense, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you again how in love with you he is, but he knows his heart can’t take another heartache.

So Dom does what he does best, fake a smile, join his friends, and power through the night despite the building anxiety of being away from you. He feels sick to his stomach and would love nothing more than to call it a night. He goes on to reject every girl who threw themselves at him left and right, which Mason took notice of.

“Mate you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” asks Mason. “(Y/N). She’s here. Well, she was,” Dom says. “Here? In Mykonos?”, Mason asks in disbelief. Dom nods his head. “Shit. What happened?” asked his concerned friend. “Told her she broke my heart. I lost my head. Told her I want her, then walked away,” muttered Dom as he looks down to play with his fingers. “Mate, I mean, do you still want her? Even after everything you went through?” Mason asks carefully, cautious to push any buttons.

Dom takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing in this life I want more than her,” he spills, looking at his friend dead in the eye.

“You know what you have to do, Dom.” Mason says.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin blurb #mclfic

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

SandB Series

Werewolf!Taehyung x Mate!Reader

Chapter 7.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Masterlist

“Just one more push, baby.” If those words exit your new found fiance's mouth one more time, you’re going to slap him. Through your pained daze you can feel a towel brush against your forehead. Gritting your teeth and throwing your head back you give one final push before crying loudly. The pain radiates throughout your body, white hot pain courses through your veins as you scream loudly.

“There she is!” Taehyung cheers beneath you and you sag down on the medical table as the third and final child is pushed out of you. With a shaky sigh, you look up to the three chosen protectors of your triplet daughters. Jeongguk pulls the towel off of your head before giving a dog-like whimper as your fiance hands him your newborn daughter. His canines drop and you’ve learned from the first time seeing it that you hate to watch the werewolves teeth break your childrens skin.

“She’s so beautiful.” Hoseok whispers at the little girl in his arms before looking down at you with a beaming smile. You want to return it as his cheekbones bounce high but all you can do is look down at your mate as he cleans you up. His lips press sweet kisses to your thighs, which are numb and can feel no touch. It’s then he feels your eyes on his and his crystal blue irises find yours before smiling. “You did amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much."

You want to tell him you love him and you love all of your children but sleep enshrouds your brain, drifting you off from consciousness as your head lolls back.

“Baby?” Taehyung whispers gently before standing up, his lips press to your sweaty hairline before looking at his pack members. His eyes begin to sting as he watches his daughters sleep before kissing your forehead, “You did so great, my love.”

His canines drop as he grabs your wrist, daintily holding it before sinking his teeth in. You were so exhausted you didn’t even move, not even a whimper emitted from you in the medical room. “Did so good.”

You slowly wake, eyes blearily opening before seeing your mate sitting at the end of the bed. He notices your slow movement before turning to you and smiling. In his arms was one of the three girls you had given birth to not too long ago. “Mommys awake!”

You give a soft smile before sitting up and holding your arms out. She is placed in your arms and your mouth drops open at how beautiful she is, she looks just like Taehyung. A cute button nose and perfectly pouty lips grace her features. “I like the name Jangmi.” He whispers softly before crawling behind you. His legs spread wide, pressing his chest to your back before kissing your mate mark.

“Jangmi is a nice name.” You whisper as she opens her eyes. They were fully black, which isn’t so shocking the second time around seeing it. You know they’ll turn blue within a few days like Taehyung’s. “Thank you for being my mate and giving me so many precious, beautiful children.”

A sloppy kiss is pressed to your cheek and you giggle at his sweetness before looking at the cradles in the room. “You made them their own room, why are the cribs in here?”

Your mate chuckles, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Because, I put them in their room and I missed them.” You pout at his cuteness before elbowing him gently.

“Alpha has new girls to take care of. I’m going to be old news.” You joke as Jangmi begins to whine. You pull down your robe before putting her to your breast and you feel the small rumble emit through his chest. “Oh, no. You’ll never be old news, baby. You’re my everything.”

His hand dances over your forearm, fingertips grazing your skin sweetly before kissing your temple. “Let me make you some food. You must be hungry.”

"Alpha wolf must be really pleased to let sappy Tae come out to play." He snorts at that, a breathy noise through his nose before he stands up. “You do know that my wolf chose you as his mate as much as I did, right? The amount of love I have for you could rival all the stars in the universe. That’s what it means to be a mate. You see nothing, think of nothing, feel nothing for anyone of the opposite gender besides the one you love. And, fuck, do I love you.”

He kisses you gently, but you could feel the passion that radiates off of his perfect lips. “Let me go make you some food.” He leaves but not before kissing the forehead of his daughter at your breast and the other two that sleep soundly in their cribs.

The kitchen is cold when Taehyung enters, he can hear you whispering sweet nothings to your daughters upstairs and a smile spreads on his face as he approaches the refrigerator. He takes a deep breath before stilling. There’s a scent in the air, an unfamiliar one. One that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His body whirls around as he sniffs gently. It smells like another pack. Packs have been known to go through the woods at times, he even knows that Jaebeom and his pack regularly traipse through on their way to town but this is not that pack.

His feet quickly pad to the front door, eyes hardening over at the sudden thought of danger where his family lives. He can hear movement on the front porch and his chest rumbles, a deep growl emitting from him. If this was a wolf outside, they would have heard it. He stops for a second before hearing more movement outside. His hand grips the door handle before yanking the door open.

There stands a man, one he can very clearly recall. “Jo.” Taehyung's tone is brisk as he folds his arms before leaning against the door jamb. He takes in the tall, bald man before wrinkling his nose at the foul smell he emits. He watches with a lax expression as Jo stands tall, arms dutifully at his side. His heart begins to beat quickly, the sound filling his ears as he looks at the man. There was no good reason for an FWWA man to be standing at his house, one that he hasn’t registered on the wolf bill.

“You’ve been summoned.” His hand dug into his long leather trench coat before producing a black envelope with a bright red wax seal. Taehyung clears his throat, before grabbing the letter and throwing it behind him into the entryway. “Tell her no. I’m busy.”

Jo returns to his stand still position, and Ta can’t help but take in the new scar from the bald man’s temple to his chin. He must have gotten it in China just like his back scar. Sometimes wolves don’t heal the right way. “Can’t do that pack leader. She has summoned you.”

Taehyung puts his fingers to his temples, rubbing slow circles trying to calm himself before jutting his head towards the forest. “Fine. Whatever. Get off my property, you smell like shit.” Jo growls gently, a noise Taehyung does not take kindly as his canines drop. His tongue licks at his teeth before chomping loudly.

“Tae?!” He hears from upstairs and he sighs, “Get off my land, mutt.”

He closes the door gently as his sensitive ears hear your feet padding dully on the hallway carpet. He jumps to the entryway to retrieve the letter before shoving it down the back of his shorts as you begin to step down the stairs.

You appear within seconds with a raised eyebrow as your body leans over the stair banister. “Were you talking to someone?” His fingers feel at the wax stamp before smiling at you and shaking his head.

“Just myself. Are you and the pups okay?” You begin to smile at him and although his heart is hammering from the sudden surprise of the FWWA intrusion he finds himself smiling widely. “Yeah, I’m going to feel the other babies now.”

He wrinkles his nose before blowing you a kiss, “I’ll make your food quickly, hmm?” You nod before jumping back up the stairs. His eyes falter to the doorway before feeling at the wax stamp and closing his eyes. What the fuck do they want from him now.

The letter is lightweight but feeling like a hundred pounds in the back of his pants as he briskly jogs to the pack house. Taehyung rarely sweats, it’s not in his nature and yet his body has developed a sheen layer. He howls loudly to gather the boys and he hears their surprise mumbling to one another as he gets closer. Namjoon responds first before they collectively howl. His body jogs past the front line of trees before the pack files out of the house with curious faces.

Taehyung stops, hands on his hips. Their attention flickers to him and he can acutely smell the rain that’s about to fall from the cloudy sky. Could it be a sign? He produces the letter from the back of his shorts and a strangled noise comes from Namjoon who knows the meaning of the letter all too well. He received one right before his pack was taken by Taehyung.

Once in the living room, Taehyung lets the letter fall flat on the coffee table. The wax stamp helps the letter fall flat and it hits the table with a small thump. He puts his hands in a prayer before putting them to his lips. “Only three things could be in this letter. I’m getting kicked, I’m being summoned to become a chairman or we have to go back to China.”

All the wolves stare at the letter without looking at their leader. No one utters a noise although in the distance Taehyung can hear Baekhyeon crying and he cringes. He should be with you and not having to deal with this stupidity. It makes his skin produce goosebumps as he sits down on the floor, legs folding underneath him. “If they are kicking me, for some dumb reason, I love you guys.”

“We won’t let you go as Alpha, you’re a great leader Tae.” Namjoon whispers and he can’t say he’s surprised to hear that. He always just assumed Namjoon held some sort of resentment against him, although when they were in their wolf forms Namjoon’s thoughts never gave any inkling of it. It was probably just insecurity. Nonetheless, he was grateful for his words.

“We’re the best fucked up pack there is, no one is tearing up apart.” Yoongi mutters before leaning back on his hands, Tae smirks at his comment. Blue eyes flicking over to his hazel ones before looking back down at the letter. He has become acutely aware of his sweating palms. He wipes his hands on his shorts before picking up the letter. He lets out a shaky breath before hearing one of the newborn babies cry and he bites his bottom lip nervously.

His fingers, which shake to a degree, go to open the stamp before hearing Jeongguk call to him, “Hyung...I love you, just to...let you know.” The corners of the leader’s mouth quirk upwards before ruffling the younger wolf’s brown hair. “Love you too, pup.”

Jeongguk smiles warmly at him before Taehyung’s thumb swipes over the wax stamp. His eyes honing in on the brand in the wax. The wolf stands beneath a full moon and he closes his eyes, his heartbeat beginning to quicken. The wolves pick up on the noise, and they shift uncomfortably. The leader wasn’t normally like this, he was strong and steadfast, quick minded and equally quick witted. He was the best choice as Alpha and this the pack had no doubt. Jimin puts his hand over his leader’s squeezing it gently, showing his support. Taehyung looks over the letter at his friend from childhood before nodding. “Okay.”

His fingers lift up the wax seal, the sound of ripping paper makes him cringe. He swallows difficulty, as if someone had stuffed a ball down his throat. He pulls out the letter, gold lettering stamped into the black card of stock with blood red trimming.

Alpha Kim Taehyung,

You have been summoned by the FWWA for Tuesday, February 13th, 2020. You, your mate, pups and pack are to arrive no later than midday. The Lunaris Chamber has been opened.

Kim Soojae

He takes a sharp intake of breath before dropping the card as if it had burned him. His eyes go wide and the pack shifts awkwardly to his reaction. "Did you...Did you get kicked?" The voice belongs to the oldest member as Taehyung cards his hands through his silver mullet.

The Lunaris Chamber has been opened?! A three thousand year old chamber containing the most dangerous criminal werewolves has just suddenly been opened?! Releasing mongrel filth into the world?! A chamber that has been guarded by magic as old as time itself has suddenly been unlocked.

Taehyung stands up quickly making the other jump nervously. "Get anything that is important to you, anything you need. We're going away." His feet have a mind of their own, already walking towards the sliding glass door. You were alone with filth on the loose. He nor his wolf would stand for that.

"Why?! What's wrong?" Namjoon asks, picking up the letter with raised eyebrows.

"The Lunaris Chamber has been unlocked." The gasp he hears from the pack doesn’t go unnoticed to his ears as he begins to sprint back to your shared home. He can hear the boys shuffling around quickly and with a defeated sigh he runs at full speed back to the house.

“I-I don’t understand!” You tell your mate as he rushes to pack bags for you all as you feed one of the triplets. Taehyung grabs your clothes from the dresser before shoving them into the suitcase laid open on the bed. He doesn’t seem to be listening, he’s frazzled. His silver hair is a mess, blue eyes shifting from here to there but never landing on anything in particular. “Taehyung!” You whine loudly pulling the baby off of your breast to burp her. His eyes flit to yours at your exasperated whinge.

He rounds the bed quickly, hands pressing to either cheek before planting a very passionate kiss to your lips. Through this kiss you could feel ardor, sweetness and even nervousness. The way his bottom lip trembles has your heart picking up speed. He was never like this, he was always steadfast and yet, here he was nervously ticking over something. He presses his forehead to yours before sighing, his breath sweeping over your cheeks before closing his eyes. “We have to leave for a little while so it’s safe. Okay, baby?”

You still your hand on the baby’s back before pulling away from him, “We’re in danger? Will something happen to the babies?” His eyes narrow at you, index finger pointing at your forehead. “I will never, ever, let anything happen to you or my pups. Ever. And we are going to the Summit, for insurance.”

His words don’t make any sense and you mentally curse him for never truly telling you anything about his werewolf life. “Summit?! Where is that?! I don’t understand! I-” He cuts you off with a swift kiss, one that has you whining against his lips in frustration.

He looks at the suitcase before sitting on the bed and putting his hands on your thighs. His eyelids flutter closed as his mouth opens gently. “The Summit is on Jeju Island. It’s hidden away by a magic that is very, very old. It cannot be seen by people who are not wolves or their mates. We have to go there because the Lunaris Chamber has been opened. Why, I don’t know but we need to go to make sure we’re protected.” You pause for a second before laying the baby down on the bed.

“Well why are you so nervous, you’re never like this. Something must be bothering you if you are so antsy.” There it is, you know him all too well. You don’t need hyper smell or hearing. You know him because he’s yours like you’re his. And, because of this he hangs his head in defeat.

“I-I-” He stutters before putting his hands over his face. Stuttering? That’s not in this Alpha’s nature. “Only the worst wolves go into the Lunaris Chamber, the most crazed demons of our kinds. The kind that turn feral during full moons and kill people like in those horror movies. Psychotic wolves that have been infected by this sort of Parvovirus. It spreads through the mind and body like a disease, we still don’t know what causes it but it makes the wolf go insane. Absolutely nuts, the only way to kill a wolf like that is to rip their heart out and burn it. The brain becomes jumbled and warped. Their eyes turn fully black, the veins in their face turn black, and they always foam at the mouth.” His voice trails off as his eyes glue to the skin of your knees as if he’s replaying some horrible memory within his mind. You put your hand on his shoulder as his eyebrows furrow.

“Baby?” His head snaps up before he gives you a shy smile, something you have NOT seen before and you find yourself stiffening. “I’m okay.”

His voice is so gentle. So full of hurt that you hurdle yourself at him wrapping your arms around his body. He hugs you back, chin hooking over your shoulder as he closes his eyes. “My parents were in there.”

The admission drops like a loaded bomb and you make no movement as you close your eyes. No wonder he is so scared, so nervous. He makes a dog-like whine and you can feel your eyes begin to prick with tears. “I hated them since I was a kid. Not because they got infected, they were terrible people. They made me-” He stops short before clearing his throat and letting you go.

“Maybe one day, when they’re dead I can tell you. I have to finish packing up for us.” You sit there and watch him as he moves quickly without a word and your heart clenches within your chest. He was the epitome of everything beautiful in this world to you. He was so strong willed and determined. So ready to put his life on the line for you and his children and yet, as you stare at him now with this new found information you can see his guard lowered. You can see Kim Taehyung for everything he really is and your heart hurts for him. He has so much caged away to make sure his Alpha role is always present. He’s hurting and you’re just happy enough to know he trusts you with this. With everything. Because, you were his and he is yours.

The front door opens with a loud slam and you jump at the noise. Taehyung doesn’t pay attention as he closes up the suitcase, his eyes flickering to you before smiling gently. “We’re going to be just fine, baby. I’ll always protect my family.” Of this you were sure.

“You shouldn’t have to protect us.” His smile fades before he’s lifting the suitcase off of the bed and rolling it into the carpeted hallway before it falls over with a thud as the wheels get snagged on the carpet beneath it. He kisses your cheek before letting off a low whistle. It’s silent for a moment before you hear multiple sets of feet stomping up the staircase.

“We good to go?” His voice is rough as he picks up the bags on the bed. “Yeah, cars are ready to go.” He nods before holding his hands out to you. You take them quickly before standing up off of the bed. “Grab your pup and we’ll go.”

His arm wraps around you as Seokjin folds his arms before pouting, “You better have another one quickly, I’m feeling left out.” Taehyung chuckles before kissing your temple.

“Once Y/N gets to Summit, you know how that goes.” The guys laugh as they enter the room to grab their protected pup and you frown folding your arms. “Why am I not clued in on this joke?” You ask quietly as you watch the men.

“You’ll see. Summit is a magical place.” Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows as he holds your newborn daughter to his chest before kissing her forehead. “It’s not about magic, it’s about protection.” Taehyung mumbles stiffly before pulling on your hand.

“Let’s go baby.”

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