#so I couldn’t tell if I’m just bad at drawing him side profile or if like. that’s how it is 😭
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#HendallReunited
prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty
Word count: 5.2k
Warnings: language, sexual content, angst
Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.
He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.
Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.
The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.
She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.
Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.
The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.
Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.
This time - it was really fucking bad.
The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.
It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.
He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.
At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.
**
Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.
He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.
“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.
“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.
Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.
Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.
Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.
“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.
This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.
He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.
“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.
“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.
“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.
“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.
Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.
“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.
He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.
**
Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.
He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.
Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.
She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.
Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!
He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.
Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.
—
Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.
Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.
Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.
They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.
Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.
Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.
He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.
“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.
“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.
She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.
Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.
Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.
“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.
Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.
“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.
She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”
Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.
“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.
“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.
“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.
“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.
He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”
“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.
Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”
Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”
His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.
“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”
Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”
He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.
“You will be, you-“
They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.
Fucking shit.
**
Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.
But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.
Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.
“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.
They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.
They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.
“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”
She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”
He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.
“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”
Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.
When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.
“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”
He nods, apprehensive.
“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.
Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.
**
The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.
“Where’d Y/N go?”
He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.
“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.
“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.
“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.
“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”
“Harry-“
“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.
All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.
Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.
—
The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.
He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.
Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.
Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.
He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.
“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.
“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.
“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.
Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.
Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.
Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”
Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.
“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.
She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”
“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.
Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.
What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.
“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.
“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.
“I’m goi-“
She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”
The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.
“Baby-“
“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.
He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.
He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.
Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.
He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.
The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.
His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .
“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.
She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.
After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.
He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.
It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.
She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.
That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.
Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”
He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”
Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.
It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.
She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.
He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.
*
He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.
Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.
He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.
There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.
Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.
Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?
He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.
The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.
Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025
With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles
The second one was simple and read across the chest:
I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.
He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.
They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.
“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.
“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.
“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.
Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”
“Want it, wan-“
He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.
“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.
The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.
Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”
He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.
Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.
The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.
One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.
The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.
Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”
She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.
Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”
Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.
It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.
“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.
His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”
The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.
“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.
She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”
“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.
“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”
She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”
Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.
“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”
“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”
Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.
He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.
“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.
“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.
“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.
Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”
Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”
“Okay?” She repeats.
“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.
“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.
It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.
Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.
—-
Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.
“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.
“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.
“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”
Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”
“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.
He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.
“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.
“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.
Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.
“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”
The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”
Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.
“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.
—
Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.
It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.
“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.
“In here!”
Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.
“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”
“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.
“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”
Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.
Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.
“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.
“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.
“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.
“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.
“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.
“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.
THE END
#harry styles#harry styles fic rec#fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles writing#harrystylesfanfic#harry styles imagine#fanpic harry#harry styles prompt#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles drabble#harry styles blurb
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Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid
M A S T E R L I S T
Criminal Minds Masterlist
smut
requests info
wc | 9.1k
summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.
song
another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.
also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.
You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.
The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.
"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.
"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.
"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.
"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.
"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.
"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.
"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.
"You know Dr. Reid?"
"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.
"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.
Check mate.
//
Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.
"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.
"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.
"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.
"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.
"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.
"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.
//
When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.
"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?
"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.
"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.
"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.
"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.
"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.
"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.
"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.
"Every detail matters."
You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."
"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.
"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.
"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."
"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"
"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.
"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.
"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.
"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.
"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.
"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"
"W-Well I-"
"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.
"Y/N-"
"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.
"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.
"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"
"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.
"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.
"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.
"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.
//
Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.
Pregnant.
The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.
"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.
"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.
"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.
"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.
"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.
JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.
"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.
"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"
"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?
"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."
"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.
"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.
"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.
"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.
"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.
"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.
"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.
"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.
"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?
"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.
"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.
"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.
"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.
"How long were you two together?"
"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.
"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.
"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.
"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.
"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.
"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.
"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.
"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.
"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.
"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.
"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.
"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.
//
You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.
"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.
"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.
"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.
"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.
"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.
"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?
"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.
"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.
"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.
"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?
"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.
"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.
"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.
"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.
"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?
"You're clear to go home."
"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.
//
The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.
"The address is-"
"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.
"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."
"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.
"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.
"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.
"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.
"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.
"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."
"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.
"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.
"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.
"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.
"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.
"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.
"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"
"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."
"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.
"Who?"
"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.
"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.
"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.
"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.
"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.
"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.
"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?
"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.
"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.
"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.
"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.
"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.
"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.
"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.
"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.
"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.
"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.
"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.
"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.
"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.
"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.
"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.
When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.
"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.
//
On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.
"You okay kid?"
"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.
"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"
"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"
"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.
He was wrong.
//
When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.
A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.
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welcome to the family
SUMMARY. After mistaking the guy on your lockscreen as your boyfriend, your grandmother knits him a sweater to welcome him into the family. Childe sees your tweet about it the next morning.
PAIRING. celeb!childe x reader
WORD COUNT. 1.0k
GENRE. celeb au, loosely based off a tweet
A/N. small drabble because i kind of got excited at the thought of celeb au childe o.o also like...have u listened to his english va sing those cheesy songs? i absolutely love it HFJKGHG pls enjoy xx sof
You weren’t a fan of the celebrity with the title Tartaglia, alias Childe, real name unknown to the public.
Definitely not a fan.
The only reason you knew even that much about him was simply due to social media blowing him up as the infamous white boy of the month. And from there his fame only grew. (Though you had to admit, he was at least more interesting than the previous other candidates.)
You weren’t a fan, but you couldn’t deny he deserved the recognition he received. His acting was pretty captivating, his singing voice pleasing to the ear, and his body... Well, his body...
“Earth to Y/N,” your mom called, drawing you out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. You were visiting your family home for the weekend and you were currently in the living room with your mother and grandmother, watching bad reality TV and snacking on junk food. “You’ve been spaced out today. Too busy thinking about your boyfriend?”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
Like most grandparents, your grandma seemed to have a special radar to let her know when her grandchildren had a potential suitor at hand. Just the mere mention of the word made her perk up. “Boyfriend?”
“Yeah! I don’t know why they were keeping it a secret from us, but I saw the picture on their lockscreen,” she whispered to your grandma conspiratorially, loud enough for you to hear. “He’s a cute guy with ginger hair.”
The picture on your lockscreen off a cute guy with ginger hair… You were only half-embarrassed to recall that it was a picture taken from Childe’s outdoor picnic photoshoot where the poses they made him do attempted to paint the image that he was there on a date with you. His clothes were casual and his smile was familiar.
You absolutely hated that marketing strategy but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t willingly fall for it each time.
But again, you weren’t a fan…
Oh, who were you fooling? You were halfway from breaking and making a Childe fan account if your dignity didn’t get the best of you.
“Childe? He’s—”
“Your boyfriend! My grandchild finally found love in this world?” asked your grandmother, teary-eyed as she completely ignored her favorite trashy reality show on the television to get a better look at you. “I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting.”
“Grandma, wait—”
“You have to bring him home and let us meet him,” she rushed on animatedly, giving you no time to squeeze a full sentence in. “No, before you do that, let me make him something for you to give to him! What size is his shirt? Is that a picture of him? Oh he looks nice and strong! I’ll knit him a turtleneck. You give it to him the next time you see him, okay?”
Your grandma ran to get her knitting needles and yarn, leaving a whirlwind in her wake as you stared open-mouthed at the spot she once occupied.
That was how you ended up going home the next day with a brand new turtleneck sweater your grandmother made for your non-existent boyfriend.
The situation was so bizarre, you decided there was only one thing you could do: Pull your phone out as you sat on your bed to tell Twitter about the events of your weekend.
— ✩ —
It wasn’t everyday Childe woke up to check what the top tweets of his tag were on Twitter.
Okay, that’s a lie.
It was everyday.
He had an image to keep, after all. And it interested him to know what others had to say about him, despite how bad that might actually be for his state of mind.
Childe didn’t like deceit, but showing some parts of himself to only some people and other parts to others wasn’t lying. It was self-preservation. Everyone had a persona of sorts, and he preferred for his to be intact. What was the point of showing everyone every side of him?
He knew who Childe and Tartaglia were. He knew who Ajax was. As long as he knew, he’d be alright.
Was it a lonely path? Maybe. But it paid well and made his family proud. What more could he ask for?
Acting may not be as cool as being, say, a toymaker as his younger brother would proclaim, but at least he got to travel the world and explore places he never could’ve before. And the cute fans of his were also a definite bonus.
Childe continued scrolling through his phone when he stumbled upon a tweet that seemed to be gaining numbers quickly. It was posted only a few hours ago last night (his time, at least) by what looked like a personal account.
@y/n: Y'ALL WTF my mom saw my lockscreen (which is a pic of childe) and told my grandma that he was my bf and then my gma got so excited she knit him a WHOLE SWEATER and told me to give it to him. how could i break her heart and tell her he’s just a celebrity i like omg
@y/n: here’s a picture of the sweater she knit. isn’t it adorable? i almost feel too bad to just wear it myself though hjfkhg [Attachment: 1 Image]
A surprised chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the picture of you holding the cream-colored turtleneck up, the large sleeves covering most of your body in the photo. You were right. The sweater did look adorable. As did a certain little fan of his who was also featured in the image.
Without giving it a second thought, he began to type his reply.
@TartagliaOfficial: Why wear it yourself? Didn’t your grandma say it’s meant for me? :( It’d be a shame to disappoint her.
In only a matter of minutes, he refreshed the page and found your name in his notifications. For some reason, he felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his veins as he waited for your tweet to load.
@y/n: am i being punk’d or r u asking me out???
Childe laughed to himself, exiting the tweet thread so he could click on the private message icon on your profile.
This would be fun.
#genshin x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#ajax x reader#HE HAS SO MANY NAMES HOW DO I TAG THIS HFDJGK#genshin impact x reader#genshin fanfiction#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin imagines#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader fluff#childe x you#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact fluff#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia
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When Evil Doesn't Sleep
summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.
word count: 3.4k
warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names
Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader
A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3
“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”
To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.
“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”
Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.
Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.
Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.
After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.
You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.
You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.
When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.
”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.
You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.
“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.
You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.
You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.
You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.
He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.
You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.
“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.
When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.
“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.
You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.
He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.
The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.
As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”
#spencer reid#Spencer reid/reader#spencer reid/you#Spencer reid x reader#Spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#cm#Spencer reid smut#smut#Spencer reid x you#Spencer reid fanfiction
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spin the bottle pt. 3
prompt: you play spin the bottle, part 3.
pairings: albedo x gn!reader, mona x gn!reader, keqing x gn!reader
word count: ~1.5k
tags: kissing, very suggestive themes, light teasing
a/n: you can find part one here and part two here!
minors dni.
you spin the bottle at a party. it lands on...
albedo
he wasn’t even paying attention. instead, he had a pen and notebook and was sketching something. you tap his arm to get him to notice the bottle.
“oh right, the game,” he replies simply before leaning toward you, giving you a small peck on the cheek before going back to his drawing.
wait, what? you weren’t expecting a small peck like that. no way, you wanted more of a kiss than that from such a cute guy! you whine and pout, uncaring how selfish you were sounding - you wanted a kiss on the lips from him and you were going to get it!
he can’t hide his little smirk and snicker, “oh you were hoping for more? how interesting.” he closes his notebook, taking your chin in his hands as he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes, “i guess i’ll give you what you want then, greedy little thing.”
now that he got his results from a little peck on the cheek, it was time to get results from a longer, more passionate kiss. he leans in to initiate but stops before your lips meet, analyzing your expression. you scowl, pressing your lips to his and he chuckles at your impatience.
he hums against you, eyes watching you carefully as he slips his tongue into your mouth. his taste, well, you can’t quite put your finger on it, it’s a very intricate taste that you’ve never had in your mouth before.
his tongue prods around, exploring every little inch of what it was given, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his tongue would do the same in... other areas.
when the kiss finishes, he flips to a new page in his notebook, writing something.
“what are you writing down?” you can’t help but wonder out loud.
“your reaction to kissing and how naughty you are, wanting more.” you felt your cheeks heat up, but he wasn’t wrong, you did want a kiss on the lips. yet, you still wanted more than that with the thought of his tongue exploring your body still on your mind...
after the game finishes, he shows you his notebook and what he was working on. it’s a drawing of you.
he says as soon as he laid eyes on you he couldn’t help but draw you for you were far too beautiful to not be a part of his sketchbook. you blusha at the kind sentiment and tell him you enjoyed his kiss, even the little bit of teasing that was involved.
he chuckles, saying he enjoyed the kissing experiment you both partook in as well. he added in a low tone that he wouldn’t mind conducting more experiments later with you, but fewer clothes would be required for what he had in mind. you know. for science.
you would never do something to harm the progress of science so of course you quickly agree to his request.
you don’t even recall how many experiments you end up helping him with that night in his room.
mona
mona recites something about how the stars showed her that when you spun the bottle it would pick her but that kissing you wouldn’t be a good idea because of your conflicting signs along with other excuses including, “the stars. can’t do it. not today.”
but when she glances at you and sees your saddened look she quickly stammers over her words before admitting defeat and agreeing to the kiss. she looks very embarrassed, her cheeks turning red and her hands, which were resting on her lap, were clenched into fists.
feeling bad for her, you decide to only give her a small kiss and move on, but when you try to pull away she pushes forward, locking your lips once more in a sloppy, wet kiss.
you’ve never had a messier kiss. your lips would part to allow her inside your mouth and then she’d let you into hers, both of you eager for a taste. gasps of air were the only other sound besides a few soft, muffled moans as neither you nor she would let the other pull away.
eventually, you both end up on the floor, her on top of you. she ran a hand through your hair as you wrap your hands around her waist before bringing them down to her ass for a squeeze, causing her to smirk against your mouth.
finally, you end the kiss, the need for oxygen too grand, a string of saliva still connecting you both before it broke. that’s when you realize the other two that agreed to play had left you and her alone.
well, now that the game was apparently over, you ask if she’d like to leave and get some better food elsewhere together.
she looks a little sad suddenly and mutters that she doesn’t have any money on her.
you pause for a moment, taken by surprise, and you tell her that her company is more than any amount of money and that you’d pay for her and she didn’t have to worry about paying you back.
she suddenly looks like she’s about to burst into tears from your offer. you worry that you were too forward.
she jumps off you and, before you even realize what’s happening, she starts dragging you by your hand out of the party, talking about what food she’s going to order.
while out eating she admits that she was really lying earlier and the readings she conducted said you and her would meet at the party and be completely compatible and a perfect match but she was nervous since she hadn’t kissed nor been with anyone in a long time.
she then starts talking about tomorrow’s date, which you hadn’t even realized was happening until now.
she says she’s glad the stars like you because she’s enjoying her time with you a lot.
and you’re glad both she and the stars like you, too.
keqing
the fact she’s even at the party still boggles everyone’s mind since her high-profile job never allowed her any free time. yet here she was, a rare break in her schedule allowing her to attend.
but you noticed she didn’t seem very comfortable in such a setting. a few times she tried to recite rules to the partygoers, things like you can’t be too loud after a certain time and how it’s important to not leave litter lying about, etc. this caused them to whisper behind her back in quiet mocks. she was actually about to leave before you asked her to play spin the bottle, and she decided a quick party game before she left would be alright for memories.
as the bottle comes to a stop, pointing towards her, a shocked expression crosses her face before she glances away, her cheeks pinkening.
little did you know, she had already planned exactly how the kiss would go should the bottle land on her. she knew what she would do, right down to her hand position and tongue placement. she had seen others make out before and read books a few times involving couples, so she felt confident.
she doesn’t waste any time, per usual for her since she’s so efficient.
she takes your hand in hers and pulls you toward her, your lips crashing together.
but, as soon as your lips touch a little shock zaps you both, causing you to yank back in surprise. she bites the bottom of her lip, wide-eyed.
the stress of the party and the many, many people, all surprised by her appearance, all watching her, talking about her, along with the kiss not ending up how she wanted, all of it causes her confident façade to crumble. her lip quivers as she mumbles an apology, upset that, since she’s arrived, all she’s done is mess things up. she tries to leave, but you take her hand in yours and ask her to not go just yet, that’d you miss her company.
she pauses for a moment before sitting back down, hiding her face in her hands.
you gently rub the tight, overworked muscles in the back of her neck, and she looks at you with appreciation. your hand slides to the side of her face where you caress her, your thumb gently wiping away a few tears. she was so beautiful, even with such a sorrowful look.
she sniffs, still smiling, and asks in a quiet tone, “can we try again?”
the second time around, everything went right. the kiss was just a small, sweet kiss, yet it was special in its own, simple way.
once your lips part from each other, she presses her forehead against yours happily and the crazy environment surrounding you two seems to disappear for a few moments.
afterward, she rests her head on your shoulder and you wrap an arm around her. you two stay like that for a while, the sounds of the chaotic party dulled by the comfort of one another.
“want to come see the work i do for the city tomorrow?” she asks you.
“sure, i’m free. is it... a date?”
she smiles up at you with a flushed expression but doesn’t answer you. guess you’d just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought.
#genshin impact#genshin scenarios#genshin headcanons#genshin x reader#albedo x reader#mona x reader#keqing x reader#genshin writing#written#albedo#mona#keqing
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Some relationships are you, a human, with a human partner, and other are you, a human, and your 240cm tall monster bf, but that's okay
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!! I included their backstory as well as the setting up of the general context for this AU below the cut so if you’re interested,,, do consider reading it fhdjdj;;; I'm really happy with how this turned out and it's super fun to draw monster tooru and his 4 arms lmao
I'm super excited for this AU;;; I really wanna draw more of it dndjjxjd
Iwa is monster-hunter royal blood. However he doesn't want to be heir to the monster hunter shit so he decided to run away the day before his coronation??
As a kid he would play with all the monster animals near the forest which is where he met his lizard familiar and llama ceb. The day he runs away he brings them with him??
The moment he ran away from his kingdom and title as prince he was immediately hunted down by hunters sent by his own family for dishonouring them the Iwaizumi name. Like he's straight up wanted??? ahhh
Somewhere along the way he meets Tooru and they probably wouldn't get along at the start
?? Like they meet at some weird beer house?? And Iwa obviously sticks out because he's human and humans aren't exactly super welcomed because of the history between monsters and humans. Iwa being oblivious to the monster world obviously doesn't realise why this four armed dude won't stop pestering him in spite of his attempts to keep a low profile.
Tooru had approached him because he was sure if he didn't step in, Iwa would have been killed
Iwa was initially extremely resistant to Tooru's "advances" until Tooru whispers into Iwa's ear that "I don't know if you realised but almost every monster in this beer house is staring at you with the intent to kill, so unless you want to leave this place alive, play along and let me get you out of here"
And Iwa just looks around the room and he realises that Tooru was right so he plays along and they try to leave but one of the monsters in the beer house walks up to them and asks Tooru to back off so they could kill Iwa, and Tooru is just like "no can do, he's a friend of mine" and the dude is just like "move." But Tooru is adamant much to the annoyance of the other. A fight kinda breaks out, but much to Iwa's surprise, Tooru managed to take all of them down with ease
As they go aside, Iwa just asks Tooru why doesn't he want to kill him like the rest of the monsters and Tooru is just 🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷 Iwa apologises for causing such a big commotion and getting Tooru involved unnecessarily. Tooru says it's not a problem and Iwa not really having that much money on him, asks if he could return him in some other way? He offers a family heirloom at first but Tooru is just like "Not interested, although how about you let me tag along wherever you're headed?"
Iwa’s response is just "???" Tooru says "look, you aren't getting anywhere in these parts as a human, if I tag along, you won't have to worry too much about being killed and you returned the favour, it's a win win."
So that's how they kinda go off on their journey!!! Iwa actually learns a lot about monsters from Tooru who seemed much more knowledgeable than he looked (no offense to Tooru but that was Hajime’s genuine first impression) There were so many different types of monsters and Iwa was just?? So amazed and almost excited that there were so many things for him to learn and explore??
Like okay they had a bad first impression but he was kinda starting to like Tooru as a companion, listening to way Tooru told all those stories offered him a comfort that he never had back at home
Tooru did most of the talking honestly but Iwa was always intently listening and Tooru could tell he was intrigued and super attentive so he didn’t mind
He did ask Iwa about why he was wandering around in the first place and why the hell was he just traversing across the land with no plan or knowledge of the terrain. Iwa tells Tooru he ran away from his family but neglected to tell Tooru he was of royal monsterhunter blood. Iwa fires back the same question and Tooru responds saying “I get bored of spending all my time in the same old place every day.” neglecting to tell Iwa the fact that he too was of royal blood, the king to one of the many monster kingdoms. (Actually one of the most feared in fact??)
I was thinking the four armed form isn't his real monster form but a less scary version, he's actually a huge fearsome beast but he would walk around in this form to blend with the common folk. This also explains why people don’t recognize him, because if they really knew who he was, they’d be terrified of him.
Tooru is extremely flirty and generally enjoys teasing Hajime. Iwa's lizard does not like Tooru at all. It would be sitting on Iwa's shoulder, breathing small fireballs at Tooru whenever the brunette got too close- For example, when Tooru tries to wrap an arm around Iwa's shoulder or waist, Haji’s lizard would get extremely angry and began attacking him. Tooru is super upset about this tiny little creature preventing him from getting close to his new human companion, but nevertheless, he learns to pick moments where the lizard is asleep to try and engage with Haji
Sidenote, Iwa is a really fucking good archer and good at knives. He may not have had the heart to be a monster hunter, but he definitely had the physical skills to be one if he desired.
Of course there’s a bunch of shenanigans, but honestly speaking there’s also a good amount of sexual tension?? They have a lot of moments where they kinda save each other, whether it be having run ins with unfriendly monsters or humans, to navigating dangerous terrain and making hard decisions;;
They grow to be rather close friends I would dare say;; In fact, for the most part, Tooru would be Iwa's first genuine friend :(( Iwa was never given the luxury of having friends growing up. He spent most of his time training to be a monster hunter or learning about them, which is why he grew super attached to Tooru platonically at first
Once they have a pretty mean run in where Tooru ends up seriously hurt;; Iwa was so scared that he would lose Tooru at that moment;; Tooru fake dies to kinda tease Iwa but he didn't expect Iwa to cry, so as Iwa is there like "don't die on me you idiot-" Tooru "comes back to life" and is all like "awww is Iwa-chan crying because of me?" And Iwa, embarrassed, just punches him in the chest and wipes away his tears like "shut the fuck up asshole"
Tooru is just like "ow- I may not be dead but I'm still kinda hurt you know?" And Iwa feels bad so he just tries to play it off like "that's what you deserve dumbass" before treating Tooru's wounds. They end up spending the night at this cave near a lake where they decided to stay for a few days since Tooru was pretty beat up and the weather was pretty bad
Haji pretty much nursed Tooru back to health, finding berries, herbs and all that during the day in order to make medicine and food
I think at one point Tooru comments "You're really good at this kinda thing huh?" And Iwa is just confused like "good at what?" And Tooru elaborates "taking care of people. Not everyone can make medicine like you do you know?" And Iwa just says it was nothing and he learned most of it from reading when he was a kid
Also like I said the weather was pretty bad so imagine Iwa curling up next to his llama and lizard for warmth. Tooru finds it so fucking adorable??? Clearly the two of them loved Iwa and vice versa, but he couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the sight uxjxhdh
So like one night he just casually says "you guys sure look warm over there" and Iwa just looks at him like 😐
"I gave you my cape you know" and Tooru just "Monsters can't regulate heat like humans do, at least not my species" That was a lie but Iwa didn't know that, so he kinda just looks at Tooru funny before scooting over to Tooru and lying down next to him. His llama and lizard follow, and scoot on Tooru's other side so Tooru is kinda sandwiched in between Haji and the pets. Iwa just mumbles a quiet "now go to sleep dumbass" and Tooru just smiles like a fucking idiot
Iwa quickly dozes off but Tooru not so much, when he was sure Iwa was asleep he gently drapes the cape over Iwa instead before going to bed himself
The next day Iwa is the first to wake up and much to his fucking surprise, he was pretty much incapable of moving because Tooru had somehow wound up hugging him with two of his arms. He was so embarrassed he thought he could die so he could only stay there and not do anything. After while he realises that staying like that could only mean more mental suffering so he slowly tries inching away from Tooru to which he eventually succeeds
He does his morning routine which was to look for berries and herbs because Tooru needed quite a bit of medicine. Tooru was definitely close to being back to his healthy normal self but he still needed to make sure that everything was in check
#oiiwa#iwaoi#I fell in love with a monster king#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#my art#Iwaizumi Hajime#oikawa tooru#apparently I'm a monster fucker now#and because of that I ended up projecting onto iwa#help
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Late Night Singing Session
CC! Wilbur Soot
Wilbur is a certified cure for insomnia /j
No pronouns used
TW: Swearing, mentions of insomnia, talk of being overwhelmed and crying.
First imagine in a while! Really projecting on this one.
Having insomnia was far from fun. The constant feeling of wanting to sleep but not being able to. It’s brought you to tears more times than you can count.
And then came along your best friend: Wilbur Soot. You can’t count on your fingers how many times you’ve fell asleep to his streams or videos. His voice was just so soothing and if you believed in mythological creatures, you would say for certain that Wilbur was a Siren. His voice draws you in and completely relaxes you, even as he shouts at his chat or one of his friends, it never stops being so comforting.
------
Yawning, you stare at your computer screen, watching but not completely seeing anything that was happening. It was a college lecture video that had been pre-recorded and posted to the class chat.
You checked the time at the bottom corner of your screen. 4:23 AM. Great, another night with no sleep. You teared up. Everything from the day was crashing down. That small problem at the start of the day when you couldn’t find your favourite earrings? That problem now felt like you had lost a family heirloom forever.
A notification on Discord caught your attention. You didn’t bother wiping your tears and just clicked on the app. Wilbur’s profile picture has a small one under it. You sigh and click on the chat.
‘Hey I can see you’re still up, you okay?’
The next breath nearly came out as a sob. You hesitated before typing an answer.
‘Not really, can we talk?’
As soon as it was sent, there was instant regret. What if he was busy? What if you’d interrupted his sleep?
‘Of course! VC?’
You sent a single nodding emote and a call instantly came through. You accepted it after making sure your camera was off.
Wilbur popped up on your screen. He was holding a cup of coffee, sipping at it and looking wide awake. He smiled once you connected but it dipped down upon seeing your camera being off.
“Hey Bubba, how are you doing?”
New tears welled up at the genuine question.
“Not too good.” Your voice broke and his face became more concerned. He placed his cup down to give you all of his attention.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You heisted, not wanting to dump all of your problems on him. He smiled sadly and knowingly, “You’re not going to be putting anything on me, okay? Just tell me what’s wrong.”
You wiped your tears away and cleared your throat. “I just can’t sleep. I’ve had a bad day and now it’s all being topped off with insomnia, bad feelings and not being able to my work.”
He tutted in sympathy as he sat up straighter. “Okay you’re leaving your work for tomorrow.” He knew you would try and protest and so he continued. “I know for a fact that none of your work is due for today. It’s Saturday. What your going to do is come off of your computer, get into bed and join back on your phone. Okay?” He heard you sniff.
“Okay, give me a minute.” It was nearly a whisper but it was enough for him. He nodded just before the call disconnected.
Five minutes later, after doing your usual night routine, you connected back to the call.
“Welcome back.” His voice was light. “You in bed?”
You hugged your duvet closer, “Yeah.”
He smiled. “Well done Bubba, I’m proud of you.” You smiled bashfully at his compliment and hummed.
You heard some rustling on his side and a small hollow bang. “Give me a song, any song.”
You hummed in thought before answering, “One day by Lovejoy?”
He chuckled but started strumming.
“And stop
'Cause why'd you have to kill my cat?
Why'd I have to take you back?”
It was more acoustic than the normal tune and much softer. You closed your eyes, listening to the sirens song.
“And time and time, I play the empath
I don't know why
There's some lights on in an empty pub
A toilet with the seat left up
Is closure like a deer in headlights”
You smiled to yourself, you couldn’t have asked for a better friend than Wilbur Soot.
“One day, I know that you will be there
One day, I'll focus on the future
Maybe one day, oh, baby, isn't life so fucking inconsistent?”
#dream mcyt#dream smp#dream smp imagines#wilbur soot#myct#mcyt imagine#gender neutral reader#mcyt x platonic reader#platonic
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for obikin, maybe pretending to hate each other au? (sth where their ages are a little closer, perhaps, so obi-wan can be intensely petty and not feel the need to Set an Example)
45. (Pretending To) Hate Each Other (raised as Sith!Anakin, salty!Padawan Obi-Wan)(1.6k)
Obi-Wan turns away from the training stalles with a barely suppressed sneer. Anakin, as he is to be called, has defeated his opponents. His fellow Padawans. Darth Vader has become a Padawan and everyone is just fine with it.
Obi-Wan marches out into the halls, not knowing where he’s going, but knowing he must get away from the smirk on Anakin’s face as he had lowered his training saber to his opponent’s neck. Does no one but Obi-Wan remember how just months ago Vader’s saber had been pressed against his neck and it hadn’t been a training exercise? Does no one remember the atrocities Anakin had committed, the sentients Anakin had killed?
And yet Obi-Wan’s master seems infinitely fascinated by the boy. And yet Obi-Wan, it seems, cannot step out of his own room without finding this Anakin underfoot, either taking tea with his Master, or dolefully skulking around the doorway of Obi-Wan’s quarters. What draws the boy, he has no lasting idea.
They’re approximately the same age, he supposes, although Obi-Wan has a few years at least on Anakin--it’s clearer to see now that Anakin has stopped wearing his helmet and armor into battle, now that the lines of his face are not hardened by scowls and snarls. Really, he’s a boy. His medical chart puts him at eighteen, making him four years Obi-Wan’s junior.
And, he supposes, Qui-Gon was the one to find Anakin wounded on the battlefield, the one to insist they treat the Sith, heal him, and give him shelter. But Obi-Wan was the one who had found the slave chip embedded between his ribcage, the one who had alerted the Council to its presence, so it could be used to find the boy’s master, to capture him or kill him, to end the war.
But surely, whatever small part Obi-Wan had played in the war’s conclusion, the Force should have known better than to repay him by gifting him with the care and keeping of a Sith Lord, Chosen One or not.
Although Obi-Wan can admit, even if only to himself, that it’s worse when Vader latches onto anyone else in the Temple. His master is too starry-eyed by his ideas of Vader’s midichlorians, his destiny as the Chosen One, to see the boy in front of him now.
And anyone younger than Vader is too easily swayed by his looks, his charm, his disgustingly transparent eagerness to know about the Temple, about the Jedi way of life.
Obi-Wan knows this. He’s fought a Sith at 20, fended it off after it dealt a nearly fatal blow to his Master. They cannot be reasoned with. Vader cannot be reasoned with.
Anakin exists only as a figment of their imaginations, their desire to have the Chosen One fly under the Jedi colors. He is not real, not anymore.
Gradually, Obi-Wan finds himself making his way up the stairs of the Jedi Temple. Of all the spots to hide--to sulk, as his Master would say--the rooftop is the one least likely to be checked. It is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite areas in the entire building.
But he had not thought to check for stragglers before arriving at his destination, had thought the thunderstorms of his own Force presence would keep others at bay. He hadn’t yet figured Vader into his calculations, hadn’t remembered the propensity Vader had for showing up right when Obi-Wan least wanted him to.
“You left,” Vader--Anakin--whoever accuses, as Obi-Wan sits down on the rooftop. The wind howls around them. Obi-Wan has the distinct thought that they’ve lived through this before, that last time Vader had cornered him on a rooftop, he had threatened to take a piece of his body home to his Master. Now, Vader is standing in his home.
Obi-Wan takes a very deep breath and banishes those sorts of thoughts. Anakin, he reminds himself. Anakin.
And just as importantly, the chip. There had been a chip. Not controlling Va--Anakin’s thoughts, but certainly controlling his actions. What he would do to survive is no different from what Obi-Wan had done to survive; they had just been on opposite sides of the war.
Is Obi-Wan weak for not being able to move past that? For not being able to greet the boy--the man--Anakin with open arms into the folds of his family?
“I did,” Obi-Wan replies, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the city skyline.
Anakin steps closer. “Why?”
He turns to face him, takes in his sweaty appearance and messy tunics. He must have been looking for Obi-Wan’s reaction. He must have seen the exact moment Obi-Wan had turned, must have scrambled to cloth himself as he followed after.
“Why does it matter?” He asks instead of answering, always instead of answering.
“Because I wanted you to watch,” Vader says.
“I’ve seen you kill Padawans before,” Obi-Wan turns away and stands up until he can lean against the high protective walls of the roof. “I wasn’t impressed.”
Vader feels frustrated in the Force. No. Anakin.
Anakin. “It was a training exercise.”
“Now,” Obi-Wan points out. “Or do you mean then?”
“Would you hate me if I said both?”
“I hate you now, Vader.” The other boy’s Force signature withdraws, flinching away from Obi-Wan’s ire. He hears him sit down. He’d rather throw him off the roof.
But: “Don’t call me that,” the boy pleads quietly. “I know I can’t--that I don’t--” he cuts himself off and grows quiet.
Obi-Wan would say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to engage the boy if he doesn’t have to. If he closes his eyes, he can feel and see the Force raging around them, violently buffering them as it demands some sort of denouement.
The boy inhales and stands again, stepping forward hesitantly until he’s a scant foot away from Obi-Wan. “My mom always told me she thought for ages about my name. That it had come to her in a dream after I was already a month old, that it was bad luck to have waited for so long to name me because infants on Tatooine can die as quickly as their mothers.
“And then I...I couldn’t use it or hear it or speak it for so long that I think I almost forgot it, almost lost it to Sidious and...and Vader. So even if you hate me, and I know you should hate me, I know I’ve never done anything to you that cancels out the bad I’ve done to you, but. Please don’t call me that. I think it would have made her sad."
Obi-Wan works his jaw as he stares off into the city. He doesn’t think V--Anakin has ever said so many words to him. If he gives in now, he’d be just as bad as the other padawans who had welcomed Anakin in amongst them because of his big eyes and soft lips and earnest enthusiasm.
Anakin seems to take his silence as permission to continue, which it isn’t. “And I know I’m not. That I can’t be--won’t ever be a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, that. That I’ll never wear a braid or anything. I’m not--I don’t want another Master. I never want another Master.”
Obi-Wan turns his head just enough to look at Anakin. He’s spent an awfully long amount of time hanging around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s quarters if he doesn’t want a Master. But...what he’s saying makes sense, and, more importantly than that, soothes the furious emotions in Obi-Wan’s chest enough that he can speak. “Then I can’t understand why.” Why you’re here, why you won’t leave me alone, why you chose to follow me if you’re not trying to dispose of me and take my Master for yours.
Anakin sighs, leaning his head on his hands as he looks out at the city. Obi-Wan finds himself annoyed with that as well, even though he’d just been doing the same thing. Now he can’t tear his eyes away from Anakin’s profile.
“You’re warm in the Force,” Anakin says eventually. “I think maybe I spent too long in space, because I’m always cold. Except when I’m around you. You burn. You always have. I used to think that maybe--it was hatred or disgust at me, when I met you in battle, and you were an inferno. But you burn when you’re on creche duty too. A different kind of fire, but still so warm. It’s just your soul. It’s just who you are.”
Obi-Wan blinks open-mouthed at him. He’s never considered the thought that Vader--Anakin--had been trailing after him for anything other than easy access to his Master. Now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say.
There’s a part of him that still doesn’t understand what Anakin wants to get out of his tenancy at the Temple, a part that whispers that the Sith can’t be trusted, no matter how blue they can make their eyes look. But the Jedi part of Obi-Wan is bigger.
The Jedi part of Obi-Wan tells him to extend his hand just enough to brush against Anakin’s exposed wrist. It’s a point of vulnerability the boy doesn’t shy away from.
“Would you…” he asks slowly, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “Like to meditate with me?”
Anakin looks astonished, then hopeful, then disappointed, then dejected. “I’m no good at meditating,” he says, scuffing the point of his shoe on the ground. “It wasn’t a huge part of my...former Master’s curriculum, and the Force is just so loud in my head that it’s hard to do anything but react.”
He looks up at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, biting his lip as if he’s afraid that he’ll be turned away for this.
Instead, Obi-Wan turns fully to face him and latches onto his flesh hand. “There are some things, I’ve found,” he murmurs, leading them away from the edge of the roof before pulling Anakin down to sit cross-legged in front of him, “that are much easier done with someone else. Done together.”
#that last line shows up in anakin's wedding vows#like eight years later#and obi-wan thinks anakins making fun of him#but really that was just the moment sith!anakin decided obi-wan would singularly possess his heart and soul for the rest of his life#of course he was gonna quote it in the wedding vows#OBi-WAN#what did you expect?? him to quote the line about killing padawans??#asks#obikin#my fics#omg im so happy i told myself when i finished writing and posting this i would get to eat two gyoza and now its gyoza time#its also 12:33 am#but most importantly its gyoza time#prompt fill
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Luckless Romance
Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.
Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.
Chris Evans x OFC
18+
Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-
Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.
Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.
Please let me know what you think!
_____
August 2015
Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.
That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.
It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.
I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.
But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.
Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.
I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.
There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.
But it was more than just that.
There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.
Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.
"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"
His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.
"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."
"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"
"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"
Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.
"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."
His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.
"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"
I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.
"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."
Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.
"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."
The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.
"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."
There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.
"Well, was that was you asked for?"
"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"
My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.
"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"
"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."
It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.
"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."
"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"
"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."
Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.
"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."
Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.
"As long as she promises to make better choices."
I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.
"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."
Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.
Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.
"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."
"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."
"Does this group need any encouragement?"
Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.
"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"
He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.
-
"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"
"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."
"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."
"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.
"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."
"Terrible is harsh!"
My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.
"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."
"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."
Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.
"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."
"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."
We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.
"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"
"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."
Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.
"Beginners luck!"
Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.
However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.
"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"
"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"
"It was clearly on your side!"
"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."
"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."
"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."
I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.
"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"
"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."
"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."
"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"
Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.
"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"
My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.
-
Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.
My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.
"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."
I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.
I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.
I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.
That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.
"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"
"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."
"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"
"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."
I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.
"Really? That's not a great area..."
"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."
"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."
"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."
"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded in response.
"Absolutely."
I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.
"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."
Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.
"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."
"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."
Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.
"Can't it be both?"
"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."
I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.
"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."
Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.
"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."
"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."
"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"
"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."
"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."
"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"
"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."
"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."
"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"
I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.
"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."
"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"
"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."
"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."
"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."
I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."
"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."
"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."
Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.
"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"
"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."
They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.
"Really? Could I see them?"
"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."
I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.
"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"
"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."
We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.
"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."
I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.
"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."
Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.
"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."
"I did not!"
"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."
"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."
"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."
I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.
"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."
"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."
His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.
"You're just drunk."
"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."
There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.
"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."
Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.
My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.
I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.
"This is me..."
Chris looked up and nodded slowly.
"It doesn't look so bad."
"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."
"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."
Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.
"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."
Chris laughed, but shook his head.
"Now who's drunk."
"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."
He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.
"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"
Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.
"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."
"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."
"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."
Friends.
Good friends.
His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.
Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.
At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.
I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.
I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.
Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.
As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.
---
July 2016
And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.
I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.
But we kept things very much friendly.
There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.
My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.
I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.
"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"
"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."
"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."
I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.
"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."
"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"
I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.
"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."
"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."
"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."
Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.
"You're impossible."
"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."
"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."
The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."
I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.
It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.
"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"
"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."
"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."
"Nah, this place is great!"
"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."
"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"
I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.
"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."
I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.
Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.
"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."
"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."
I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.
"Then we'll stay in?"
"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."
"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."
"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."
I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.
"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."
He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.
"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"
"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."
"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."
"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."
"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."
"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."
"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"
"Imaginary ones don't count."
I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.
"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."
"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."
"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."
"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."
"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."
I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.
"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."
"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"
I sighed and shook my head.
"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."
"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."
"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."
Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.
"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."
I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.
"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."
"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."
"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."
"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."
I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.
-
Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.
"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"
I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.
"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."
Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.
"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."
The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.
"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."
Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? How so?"
"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."
"And what did he say?"
I scowled at the memory.
"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."
"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."
"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"
"What was this one's job?"
I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.
"A club promoter."
"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"
"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."
"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."
I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.
"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."
Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.
"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."
"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."
That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.
"What was it about then?"
"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"
Chris shrugged.
"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."
"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"
"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.
"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."
Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.
"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"
I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.
"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."
"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"
I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.
"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."
"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."
"Until now."
"It's not true!"
"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."
I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.
Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.
"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"
He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.
"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"
Demonstrate.
Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.
Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.
"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"
Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.
His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.
He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.
It was now or never.
Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.
He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.
I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.
There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.
I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.
It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.
Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.
Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.
As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.
"Are we really doing this?"
I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.
"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"
A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.
"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."
I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.
In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.
But the anticipation was practically killing me.
My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.
Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.
"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."
His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.
"Not much of an exhibitionist?"
"Not on the first date."
My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.
"Alright, that's fair."
I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.
My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.
"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"
I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.
"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.
"So, you're like, always this strong?"
Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.
"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."
My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.
"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."
Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.
"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."
With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.
I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.
Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.
"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.
"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."
"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"
"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."
He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.
I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.
I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.
"Now, it's your turn."
"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."
I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.
"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."
I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.
"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."
His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.
"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."
His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.
So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.
"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."
I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.
It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.
Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.
However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.
"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.
I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.
His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.
"Like what you see?"
His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.
"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."
"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."
Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.
I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.
"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."
I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.
He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.
I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.
He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.
As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.
"Well?"
"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."
Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.
"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."
"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."
Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.
He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.
"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."
He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.
"Only because you're huge."
I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.
"Thank you."
I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.
I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.
The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.
I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.
"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.
It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.
"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.
"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."
A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.
"You heard about that?"
He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.
"Everyone heard about that," I teased.
He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.
"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."
His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.
"Atta girl, Winnie..."
His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.
My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.
"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."
His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.
The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.
After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.
"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."
I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.
"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."
He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.
"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"
His question made my own smile widen even more.
"Of course not!"
He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.
I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.
-
The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.
I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.
Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.
At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.
After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.
By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.
He wasn't coming back.
It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.
We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.
One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.
The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.
But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.
-
Part Two
Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces
#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fic#chris evans one shot#once bitten/more hearts
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The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one!
Read previous chapters here!
wordcount: 3.6k
warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing
tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee
It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave.
“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.”
You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”
“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”
You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.
“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you.
You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh.
“Where are you?”
“You never came to bed last night.”
“Off fucking the boss man?”
“Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”
“Fucking slut.”
“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”
“Fucking answer me.”
“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”
“This is ridiculous.’
“So you’re just running away?”
“Don’t be such a baby.”
“You are so in for it when you get home.”
“I should have killed you.”
There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant.
“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.”
He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.
You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.
“Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.
“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.
“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up.
“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone.
“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.
“Hotch--”
“Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face.
“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”
“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked
“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”
“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Do I get a say in this at all?”
“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly.
“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted.
“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.”
“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion.
“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”
Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall.
“Come in,” you called.
“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little.
“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.
“Hotch…” You responded softly.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.
“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”
“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head.
“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.”
“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.
“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.”
“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.
“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly.
“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.
“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered.
“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up.
“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.
“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him.
“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded.
“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you.
“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.
“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke.
“Good point.” She chuckled.
“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her.
“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock.
“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU.
“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately.
“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.
“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.
“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him.
“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you.
“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.
“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh.
“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs.
“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”
Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators.
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.
There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes.
You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.
“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again.
“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out.
“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay. Your hand--”
“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen.
“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer.
“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head.
“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it.
“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles.
“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it.
“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you.
“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?”
“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?”
‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly.
“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes.
“Hotch, I’m--”
“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.
You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?”
“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.”
“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”
“If you’re not up to it, we can--”
“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.”
The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest.
“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”
“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist.
“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up.
“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle.
“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile.
“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.”
Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.
You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment.
“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly.
“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk.
“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.
“Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually. At her pace, he reminded himself.
“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats.
“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile.
“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly.
“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”
He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”
“Hotch, I’m---”
“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.”
You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x y/n#aaron hotchner x you#hotch x you
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Invisible String
Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid
Warnings: None, this is just fluff.
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?
A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.
November 6th, 2007
Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.
Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.
It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.
You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.
In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.
***
April 16th, 2008
Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.
Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.
Dear. Dr Abraham
I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.
Yours sincerely,
Dr. Spencer Reid.
***
May 12th, 2008
Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.
It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.
“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”
This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.
Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.
There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.
So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.
But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.
It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.
What’s the harm?
You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.
Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.
----
“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”
Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”
"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”
“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”
“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.
Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.
It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.
“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.
“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”
“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”
You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.
“Seriously though babe, FBI?”
Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.
***
March 8th, 2009
“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.
“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.
Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”
"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”
Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”
“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.
“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”
Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.
Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.
***
June 1st, 2009
The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.
You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.
Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.
Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.
On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.
“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.
You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”
Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.
***
September 2nd, 2009
"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”
It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.
“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.
“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.
You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.
“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”
“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”
You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”
Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”
That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.
You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.
***
October 29th, 2009
Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.
He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.
The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”
“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”
He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”
“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”
A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.
It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.
***
November 2nd, 2009
You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.
However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.
It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.
You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.
“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”
Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”
He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”
“Oh?”
His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.
“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”
You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”
He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.
“That was so thoughtful.”
He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.
It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.
***
December 22nd, 2009
Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.
The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.
Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.
“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”
Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”
Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.
“Can I hug you?” He asks.
“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.
He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.
You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.
He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.
***
June 10th, 2011
Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.
And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.
------
Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician
(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#imagine spencer reid#criminal minds x you#imagine criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagines#pls like this it took me so long
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the little things - c.san
↣ pairing: san x reader; poly ot8 x reader
↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au
↣ wc: 3.3k
↣ summary: one of your favorite things to do is look at the stars with san
↣ warnings: none !
“You’re out rather early.”
You don’t turn towards the source of the voice; just hearing him speak is enough of a clue for you to know exactly who it is. Although, even if he hadn’t spoken, you’re sure you would have known from the flutter of wings that resounded before his arrival.
“The stars are prettiest right before dawn breaks,” you sigh, hugging your arms a bit tighter around your knees. Your new companion moves forward and comes to a stop beside you. He doesn’t sit down quite yet; for a while, he merely stands at your side and stares up at the same sky hanging above your heads. The time is roughly four o’clock in the morning — a late night for you and an early morning for San — but your words hold true. The glimmering stars are tucked behind fluffy and luscious clouds that seem to herald coming rain, and they shine against a midnight blue background that seems infinitely deep.
San sinks down to sit beside you at last, tossing his legs over the lip of the stone wall you’re perched on, and he sways his legs in rhythm with an unknown melody. You squeeze your knees as you press your cheek to one of them, enough to have a clear view of San’s pretty side profile against a landscape of green pine trees and shining stars.
“I thought you were out here to look at the stars,” San whispers. He glances at you out the corner of his eye. There’s no malice in his speech, just a hint of teasing, and you can’t keep your lips from quirking into a smile.
“I’m looking at you instead.”
“I should be the one looking at you, little star.” San turns his chin to face you, and his dimples flash as he grins back through the hazy moonlit night. “Our precious star,” he murmurs before reaching a hand out to trace over your forehead, slipping down to your temple then to your cheek and dragging the pads of his fingers over your skin in an unknown pattern.
“Why are you up so early?”
“Waiting for Hongjoong,” San says through a sigh. His hand retracts as quickly as it made contact, and you can’t pretend to be oblivious as to why. Things are always… harsh for San when Hongjoong is gone. It’s much worse when it’s a job like Hongjoong’s current one where the witch has to be gone for weeks at a time. Then San becomes quite volatile and hard to deal with — it only makes sense when a familiar is separate from his master for so long. Seonghwa tries to do damage control every time, tries to use techniques that normally help his own familiar Yeosang calm down, but they never work for San. Hongjoong is the only person and thing that can quell the anxieties and worries and stress that flow through San’s veins in times like these. And seeing as they are a bonded pair, it makes the connection of sharing emotional states weaker. They can’t share emotions this far apart, and that weighs heavily on San’s shoulders after being so used to sharing his heart in such a way for so long. Even if Hongjoong has a tendency to cut San off from feeling the brunt of his negative emotions, there’s still a lingering knowledge that the other is right there, just within grasp.
Not now, however.
San has gone three long weeks without even a breath of a whisper from Hongjoong.
And tonight (this morning? Today? Whatever time it may be) the witch is supposed to return. San’s nerves must be getting to him if he’s out this early because usually he would curl up in Hongjoong’s bed and await the witch there, presenting himself like a neatly wrapped present for the other to unravel with warm kisses and soft touches.
San clenches his fingers blindly around the lip of the wall.
“Tell me a story?” You inquire out of the blue. Your eyes shift to look up at the sky again. San huffs out a weak laugh.
“What kind?”
“Hm, how you and Hongjoong met?”
A risky choice, maybe, but you know how near and dear that tale is to San’s heart, and how much comfort it brings him in simply thinking of it. So it is also a very wise choice on your behalf. San’s lips twitch into the shadow of a smile.
“You’ve heard it so many times already…”
“I’ll give you something in return,” you coo, reaching out to pinch the skin around San’s elbow. He yelps like a kicked dog and offers up a deep pout that has you ready to tease him further.
“Seven kisses.”
“Seven?” You echo. Confusion slips into your tone. You can’t recall any significance to the number seven, nor can you remember whether it’s supposed to have special meaning.
“One for each time I’ve told you this story,” San murmurs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. You scowl at the faint sensation as a laugh nearly escapes you, but you manage to bite it back enough to smile again.
“I always forgot how good a crow’s memory is.”
“Ravens remember well too, little star.”
You poke your tongue out between your lips in his direction, and San merely laughs at your expression before shifting closer to you. He loops a hand around one of yours, pulling it away from the leg you have propped up on the rock wall, then he loops his fingers through yours.
“Several hundred winters ago, this land we live in now held very different values and laws. The people were cruel and brash, only using their fists and crude weapons to handle gathering food and protecting their women and children. No one imagined there was any other way of doing things — the people knew nothing of what gentle prowess magic could offer.” San glances over at you, drawing a laugh from your lips when he makes eye contact with you. You shake your head ever so slightly.
“I didn’t mean for you to give me the version that’s in books and legends…”
San dares to giggle at that, and a moment later, he’s shifting his position so that he can rest his head against your thigh and look up at the stars like that. You have to push your other leg down to accommodate the shift, and once San is comfortably staring up at the sky with you, he begins speaking again.
“I was alone. It wasn’t something new; I was used to it at that point. Ravens don’t have the longest lifespan, and I was still a young familiar at the time. I had no owner or master. My mother’s master left our nest after she passed, leaving me with two sisters who were sick and close to death. They were too ill to shift to their human forms, so I couldn’t bring them to an apothecary or village. Ravens are seen as bad omens after all; had I brought them to a town, they would have been killed on the spot. I spent some time going between our nest and the nearest village, stealing food and medicine where I could because I couldn’t afford it. I worked some too, little odd jobs here and there, but it was a lot of delivery work. Made it easy to steal thankfully. Then… well, one day, I got too bold and tried pickpocketing a high-ranking guardsman. He was some lieutenant or something like that, I don’t remember. Too many years have passed since then. But I got caught trying to lift some coin off him in a bar, and he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out to the streets. He was planning on killing me right then and there with no trial, but some short little witch came stalking up without a care in the world and knocked the guard on his ass. He was going on and on about how rude it is to grab random people off the street like that.”
“Of course he would,” you murmur, a bit of fondness slipping into your tone. “Don’t let him catch you calling him short though.”
“Eh, he’ll survive. In any case, when the guard tried explaining that I was trying to pickpocket him, this witch extended a hand to me and asked if I needed help. I naturally said no because I didn’t think I could trust him, then took off running. I went back to my nest in the hopes of finding my sisters and telling them to get out of the area, yet when I got there, they were already gone. It had been nearly two years since my mother passed, so they were well enough to do things on their own at that point, but they’d never up and left like that without warning. I couldn’t do anything but stay and wait for their return. We’d gathered some food and supplies, so I was able to live off of it for several months before needing to depart for more again. The entire time, not once did my sisters return. They just… disappeared into thin air. I waited every day, wondered when they would come back, and some nights I would stay awake all night flying around the area in search of them.”
“That part always breaks my heart,” you whisper. Stretching a hand down, you drag your fingers along the curve of San’s cheekbones then his jaws, torn away from the stars as you look at the familiar.
“Why? Had it not happened, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I know but…”
“But Hongjoong found me,” San continues through a smile. You huff but let him finish the story, pointedly ignoring the curling grin he sends your way. “After a few months, I started noticing magical residue near my nest. And sure enough, that little witch from before was setting up camp nearby. I did nothing at first, watched him from afar for a while, then I got brave enough to try to lift a few things from his camp. That turned out to be quite the mistake because he caught me within three seconds of setting foot into that camp. And yet… instead of threatening to kill me or harming me, the little witch simply asked if I was alone. ”Are you alone? Do you have anyone with you? A master? I feel your magical energy yet it doesn’t seem normal. You must be a familiar. Where is your master?“ When I said I had no master and was on my own, the little witch was… hm, I would say he was both confused and concerned. Said it was no good for a familiar to go without a master. Without one, I would die within a few years. He suggested that I hurry along with finding one, and I explained I had absolutely no one else in my life.”
“And after that?”
San hums to himself a bit, bringing his hands up above his head as he stares at the night sky. A delicate little smile graces his pretty lips and squeezes his dimples out, but he doesn’t speak any other words for quite some time. The next voice you hear doesn’t even belong to him.
“After that, I invited San to spend some time in my care and work an honest job for me before going on his way to finding a master.”
Hongjoong.
You twist your neck towards the source of the voice, finding the witch standing a little ways away from the wall you and San are currently seated on, and he grins through the moonlit night at you. San jolts upwards at the sound of his master. The smile that splits his lips is so broad and heartwarming that it feels too intimate to look at, even for you who shares in their love for one another. It’s different for them, and you know that, even if it’s just a different strain of the same love, it’s different nonetheless. San hops off the wall in one swift move, closing the distance between his and Hongjoong’s bodies within seconds.
“As it turns out, we were…we did quite well together. And thus, here we are,” Hongjoong says as he lets San press his nose into the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. Had to make a few extra stops along the way to gather some supplies. How was he?” Hongjoong directs the words to you, watching with careful yet loving eyes as you pull yourself down from the wall as well and step closer to him and San. The familiar will be like this for a while; unmoving and unresponsive as he soaks in Hongjoong’s presence again and drowns himself in the sensation of having all those feelings doubled once more. Hongjoong will try to ease the burden as much as he can for both their sake, and you’ll do what you do best: taking care of both of them when it gets to be too overwhelming. While Seonghwa and Yeosang (who don’t go a long time without each other anyway) don’t have to deal with this type of ordeal, Hongjoong and San always do. Hongjoong thinks it has something to do with how frequent his trips are, or perhaps the lingering sensation of separation anxiety that San suffers from given his past. Either way, it makes their reunions that much more emotionally taxing and intense. Even you, who has not a drop of magical ability in your body, can feel the sheer power radiating off them both right in this moment.
“You came home at the right time. He was getting antsy,” you murmur back, reaching up to comb your fingers through the long hair at the base of San’s scalp.
“Next time I’ll leave you all with a bit more of a safety net.”
“Or you could come back sooner.”
Hongjoong nearly rolls his eyes, and you catch the way he stops himself just beforehand. The annoyance in his features is nothing serious, only something because he’s heard such words a hundred times over.
“No doubt you haven’t slept yet?” He inquires, trying his best to make his way to the door of the coven’s home. San proves to be quite the obstruction, as it seems, and Hongjoong has to hoist the slightly larger man up enough to loop his legs around the smaller’s waist. Hongjoong grunts from the added weight but manages to carry San the rest of the way with no other complaints. You trail along beside them, taking care of opening the door and grabbing Hongjoong’s satchel once inside.
“Welcome home, my sweet starlight. I see our star and bird found you before I could.” Seonghwa is the first to greet the three of you upon stepping inside. You only notice Yeosang’s sleek black cat form slinking around the hearth witch’s ankles when you’re helping Hongjoong out of his shoes.
“Mm, they were waiting outside,” Hongjoong mumbles into the chaste kiss Seonghwa delivers to his lips. Seonghwa also places a sweet kiss on the back of San’s head before Hongjoong steps around the taller man, continuing to carry San as he goes.
“Mingi fell asleep in your bed last night, so don’t be surprised if you find him there,” Seonghwa calls out over his shoulder. You stretch up to your tiptoes in front of him, half-expecting the kiss that he presses to your lips a few seconds later, but the sudden appearance of Yeosang’s human form popping up on your left is much less expected. You nearly jump out of your skin, and probably would have if not for Seonghwa placing a steadying hand on your hip.
“You haven’t slept either,” Yeosang comments, nose pushing hard against your cheek. You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.
“No need to lecture. I’m going up with them, don’t worry.”
“I’ll come by after Jongho heads out for morning work.” Yeosang smiles a little before turning on his heel and heading back into the kitchen, no doubt where Jongho waits. Seonghwa huffs out a laugh but sends you on your way without any more conversation. You catch him slipping back into the kitchen as well just as you start climbing the stairs behind Hongjoong.
“Did San fall asleep already?” You ask after the man. You can barely see the familiar’s face from how hard he has it pressed into Hongjoong’s neck, but his eyes seem to have fallen shut at some point. He’s either basking in Hongjoong’s presence as much as he can or he’s entered a pleasant state of unconsciousness with Hongjoong’s warmth around him.
“Almost. He’s calming down some though. I’ll put him in bed with Mingi then take a bath. Care to join?”
“Such a temptress,” you snort to his back.
“I’m only joking, my dear. Keep San and Mingi company while I’m washing up for me instead? We can bathe together another day.”
“Of course darling,” you murmur, drawing a hand across his shoulders once the two of you reach his door. “Be quick though. Mingi will want some time to cuddle before he joins Jongho for yard work.”
As Seonghwa warned, Mingi is already curled up into a tight ball in the center of Hongjoong’s bed when you enter the room. It’s not hard to move his lanky limbs to the side to make room for San, and when Hongjoong eases the familiar down to the mattress, Mingi immediately takes to curling his body around the smaller man like it’s an act of pure instinct. San nuzzles into the touch, releasing a content little hum. You feel a hand brush the small of your back and jerk to look Hongjoong in the eye. Turns out, it was only a way to distract you because he captures your lips in a quick kiss that tastes a bit of honey and cinnamon. You have no time to savor the taste, however; Hongjoong pulls away just as quick and mumbles something about being quick to clean up. You bring a hand up to touch the spot where his lips just were. The smile that overtakes your face is one you can’t hold back, and now it’s your turn to be content and happy as you pull the sheets back to join Mingi and San under the covers. A large hand clamps down hard on your waist, tugging you flush against San’s chest.
“Where’s my kiss?” Mingi’s voice rises through the silence, thick and groggy from sleep. You reach around San to smack him as gently as possible on the arm.
“Go back to bed.”
“Joong home yet?”
“Mhm, he’ll be in bed in just a bit.”
“Good,” Mingi sighs. He settles back into the mattress, maintaining his hold on you around San’s body, and you twist just enough to lean over the sleeping familiar.
“Kiss,” you murmur, and Mingi rushes to meet you halfway with a cheeky grin. “Okay, now sleep. You don’t have long before you have to be up.”
It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep wrapped up in that embrace, and even when Hongjoong does finally come to bed, he doesn’t stir you from sleep except for the barest sensation of lips against your forehead. You might hear him mutter some loving words to all three of you, perhaps lingering a little while longer on San because he knows the familiar needs that reassurance and comfort right now more than ever, but once he settles down and tucks your head against his chest, a wildly comfortable and deep sleep overcomes you.
#atzinc#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#ateez x reader#san x reader#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez fic#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#choi san x reader#san fluff#san angst#san imagines#ateez scenarios#ateez drabbles#ateez drabble#ateez scenario
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Hi! Coul you do a Hunter x Jedi FemReader fluff. Myybe They are reunited after a long time and they hang out in secret.
Hey! It took a few days, but here’s where this prompt took me:
Hunter + Jedi F!Reader + Fluff
“Steady!”
“Watch the far side - it’s tipping!”
“We need another few troopers over here to help balance it!”
“It’s too heavy!”
“Stop, men,” you ordered, your calm voice cutting through the clamor with ease. “Let me get it.”
Lifting the heavy crate with the Force was simple, one of the first things you had learned to do in the Temple. From there, transporting it to the correct section of the hangar wasn’t any more difficult, and you accomplished the task with ease.
“Still showing off, General?” a rough voice asked from just behind your ear.
You turned around, already smiling at the familiar face. “Sergeant Hunter,” you greeted. “I had no idea you were on-planet.”
He shrugged, the movement flowing with grace that would have made even a Jedi jealous. “We picked up a new member for the Batch. We needed to have him cleared on Coruscant before we could risk taking him into action.”
“And?” you asked, already thinking about how you could help. Force-healing wasn’t your strong suit, but you could pull a few strings to get the right padawan to the GAR headquarters. If Hunter needed something, you would do everything in your power to get it for him. He had saved your life often enough to deserve that dedication from you.
“And he’ll be fine,” Hunter reassured you. Gesturing to the flurry of men working to unload your gunships - each one painted with a flattering caricature of your profile with a lightsaber held out in front of you - he asked, “How did the mission go?”
You shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected, I suppose.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means- Well, it…” you sighed. “This war never seems to have a true victory. There are always losses, and those sacrifices don’t always make sense given what little is accomplished in return.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re made for. Sacrificing.”
You hated hearing that, no matter how often it had been repeated by the Kaminoans, the GAR, and the Jedi Council. These men weren’t a product and their lives weren’t something they should expect to lose simply because they had been created rather than born. They had names and personalities, painted their armor with patterns in your favorite color, and some troopers even asked for permission to use your handprint in their designs. Hunter’s casual defense of what you saw as the fatal flaw of the Jedi Order made your stomach lurch and your spirits drop.
“So they keep telling me,” you agreed, mustering a smile for Hunter. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Sergeant. It has been far too long.”
"Wait," Hunter called and you paused in turning away. "What did I say?"
His earnest question only served to make you feel worse. "Nothing, Hunter. The problem seems to be with me. I just need some time away from the war, the loss."
Hunter's eyes cut a neat contrast against the darkness of his tattoo. "I can't help much, but how about some time spent with an old friend?"
"I have to go make my report to the Council," you hedged.
"After that, then," Hunter suggested. "I'm not gonna twist your arm about it, but you're the one who said it's been too long since we saw each other."
You gave a small smile at that. "That's true. Meet me at Dex's Diner tonight?"
"Comm me when you're leaving the Temple," Hunter instructed, giving a respectful nod as the two of you parted.
As soon as you had finished with your report and washed the grime of a long mission from your skin, you contacted Hunter and started your journey to Dex’s Diner. The small restaurant had been a Coruscant staple for years, but it had recently seen a huge surge in business. Not only did Dex make fantastic food, but he served meals to anyone who wanted to buy them. The Besalisk had a firm open-door policy, especially where clone troopers were concerned. Off-duty clone troopers were a common sight in the diner, laughing and mingling with Coruscanti civilians.
Hunter was already inside, having secured a booth tucked away in the corner. While clone troopers were far from rare at Dex’s Diner, Jedi were seen less often, especially since the war had begun.
Still, you slid into the booth across from Hunter and gave your usual order to the serving droid. Surreptitiously, you input your credit information as well, paying for the entire meal before it had the chance to deliver a total.
“What is that smile?” Hunter asked, offering one of his own.
“Nothing,” you said, waving off his question. “So, what have you and Clone Force 99 been up to since I saw you last?”
Hunter blew out a breath. “It’s been - what? A year since we saw you?”
“Yes, nearly that,” you agreed, trying to keep the edge of sadness from your voice. Early in the war, you had been on a series of missions with the Bad Batch and had planned to keep working with them, but a member of the Jedi Council had sensed your attachment when you returned planetside. You had been reassigned and ordered to cut ties with the enhanced troopers before the attachment grew stronger.
You had reluctantly done as you were told, but saying goodbye to Clone Force 99 had been difficult. In retrospect, that was likely a good sign that you were indeed getting attached to these troopers. However, that hadn’t stopped you from meeting Hunter today, the first time you had ran into him since following that order. It was with a surge of guilt that you realized you had taken care not to let any other occupants of the Temple see you leave. You hadn’t wanted them to ask where you were going…
“Hey,” Hunter said sharply, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere in particular,” you excused yourself. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter told you. “I just sat here and watched you get lost in your own head. Stay out of there. After all, I don’t get to see you every day.”
“Fair enough,” you conceded. “How have things been going for you out there?”
Hunter shrugged. “Pretty well. We haven’t found another Jedi who works with us as well as you did, but the few we’ve been assigned to have been competent.”
From Hunter, that was high praise indeed. “And who have you been assigned to?”
“Well…” he mused, “We did a few missions with General Unduli and you know we usually work with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. We did just finish a mission with General Skywalker, though.”
“And how did that go?” you asked, smiling at the thought of the GAR’s most unorthodox squad working with the Jedi Order’s most unorthodox Knight.
Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and launched into the story of rescuing one of Skywalker’s troopers who had been captured by the Separatists. It was horrifying to think of one of the Republic’s soldiers in enemy captivity for so long, but Hunter nearly had your sides splitting when he talked about Captain Rex brawling with Crosshair, Tech leaping onto the back of some winged creature, and Wrecker demolishing an entire Separatist fleet.
“I bet Wrecker was thrilled!” you said to the last point, still laughing.
“He was, of course,” Hunter agreed, sending a soft smile your way. “He’ll forever be looking for ways to top that mission, so I guess I have Skywalker to thank for that.”
“Oh, I needed this,” you sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.
“Want to talk about it?” Hunter asked. “I get the feeling you haven’t been happy about much lately.”
“Oh-” you stammered, his insight stunning you for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s any particular reason…”
“If you had to think of one, then,” Hunter suggested.
You blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to gather a year’s worth of abstract thoughts and quickly stifled smiles into a cohesive summary. “It’s… hm. It doesn’t feel… right, to laugh and joke when soldiers like you and your brothers are working so hard and so seriously to win battles. It seems- seems almost like ignoring their sacrifices. People are dying every moment, and being happy feels… frivolous, somehow?”
“You aren’t sacrificing people, if it makes you feel any better,” Hunter told you consolingly. “Just clones.”
You had stood from the table before you knew what had happened. Hunter stared up at you in surprise, a rare expression from a man whose senses allowed him to predict behaviors so well.
“I don’t think this meeting was a good idea,” you told him bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait-” Hunter started, trying to rise from the table, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the serving droid. The droid, oblivious to things such as tense silences, began busily unloading its tray of food onto the table, its position trapping Hunter in his seat.
You watched in silence as the table was set to the precise specifications that the droid had been programmed to deliver. Hunter, avoiding your gaze, fiddled with his silverware, ruining the droid's perfect symmetry with only a touch.
When the droid had finished and rolled away, Hunter looked up at you, confusion and guilt mingling on his face. He gestured to your plate. "Please?"
You eased back into the seat after a moment of thought. Hunter couldn't know why you were upset if you didn't give him the benefit of an explanation.
To give yourself a moment of thought, you unfolded your napkin and spread it across your lap. When you were done, you made direct and unblinking eye contact with Hunter. "It hurts me when you talk about the troopers like their lives have less meaning. Like they deserve nothing more than death to achieve a goal."
"That's what we were told all our lives," Hunter countered carefully. "At least the regs were told they could die in sacrifice for the Republic. We were told that we deserved to die because we were different."
The disgust and self-loathing in Hunter's last word made you reach out and cover his hand with yours. You made no effort to influence him - you respected him far too much for that - but you tried to convey your sympathy with a touch.
"And now you know that isn't true in the slightest," you reminded him. "I can't change a moment of your past, but we can all impact our shared present to create the future we deserve."
Hunter's warm fingers flexed under yours as he flipped his hand over to weave your fingers together.
"That's why you're the Jedi we keep asking to be assigned to," he said with a fond smile. "You don't see us for what we can do for you, for the Republic. You just see us."
You raised your eyebrows at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had since the early days of the war. "As if the Bad Batch could be tied to a single Jedi…"
"For you?" Hunter pretended to think about it. "I think we could give it a try."
With a shared smile, the two of you turned your attention to the food you had ordered. Neither of you commented on your hands, still intertwined on the table between you.
---
A/N - I originally had a different ending in mind, but I liked this one too much to change it. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what happens when Hunter realizes that you’ve already paid for your food!
Thanks for the request, @dreamingofclones! I hope you enjoyed!
#star wars#star wars the clone wars#star wars the bad batch#star wars fanfiction#star wars fic#swtcw#tcw#tbb hunter#sergeant hunter#hunter#hunter x reader#clone force 99#jedi reader#fic request
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Don’t Call Me a Hero-Dabi
Help and Hide Series. Dabi Edition
Bakugo Ed. Kirishima Ed. Denki Ed. Todoroki Ed. Deku Ed. Shinso Ed. Iida Ed. Tamaki Ed. Aizawa Ed. Hawks Ed. Shiggy Ed.
+You are not a villian but you aren't exactly a fan of the heroes either. One day, while being out and about like a normal person, you get mistaken for a bad guy. You are able to slip away into a chase from the hero's only to be yanked aside by a certain hothead. Unfortunately, you get him roped into the chase.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I couldn’t help what happened. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and I have to admit that I wasn’t acting the best towards the situation. I had been in the building that just so happened to be victim to a robbery. I was dressed in all black clothes just like the robbers and I can have a bit of an attitude.
“I am not with them!” I snapped at the pro that had helped diffuse the situation. I leant back against the side wall and rolled my eyes. I crossed my arms across my chest.
“How can I be sure? You are dressed just like them and you have quite a bit of attitude.” He stood tall, trying to intimidate the ‘truth’ out of me.
“Wearing all black doesn’t mean I am a bad guy! I just prefer to wear dark colors.” I said exasperated. I leant my head back.
One of the actual robbers started making a commotion, drawing our attention. I took this as an opportunity. I made a small motion with my hand while focusing on the robbers handcuffs. One came unlocked on my command and he went wild. The pro went over to help and I took off in the opposite direction.
“Hey! Get back here!” They yelled after me. I darted around corners and ran down alleyways. I thought at first that I lost them until I was hit in the side by a powerful kick. I flew out into the street.
“Crap!” I yelled and narrowly rolled out of the way of a speeding car. I got onto the sidewalk and to my feet. I looked up to see the pro coming my way. “I wasn’t fucking involved!” I yelled, stumbling back into the street. I ran across, jumping over the parked cars on the other side.
“Stop!” I rolled my eyes.
“How many times has even worked?” I asked no one in particular. I looked back as I ran before my arm was grabbed and yanked into another alley. I stumbled before falling and rolling across the ground. I slammed into a dumpster. I shook the cloudiness out of my head.
“What the hell are you doing, idiot?” I heard a raspy voice. I looked up and saw Dabi standing there. I sighed in annoyance.
“Running from that damn hero.” I said getting up and brushing off my jeans. “He thinks I had something to do with a robbery just because I have an attitude and I’m wearing black.” I said motioning to my clothes.
“Really?” He said, raising an eyebrow. He leant back a little to look out of the alley. “Well I think you’re okay for now…What’s wrong with you?” He asked as he looked back at me. I was holding my side where the pro kicked me.
“He got a hard kick in on me.” I said before straightening. I took a big breath. I joined him just inside the mouth of the alley. “Where did he go?” I said. Dabi tensed a little beside me realizing the hero was gone. He grabbed my arm and pulled on me, further into the alley.
“Let’s get out of h…”
“There you are.” I heard the hero land behind us. I whipped around and so did Dabi. “I knew you were trouble. You’re both coming with me.” He said, taking a step forward. Without hesitation, I threw the dumpster at him. He ducked just barely.
“Go!” Dabi yelled while the alley lit up blue as he activated his quirk. I ran from the alley, Dabi close behind. Fire spewed from the alley as we ran. We pushed through the people on the street as the hero came after us. Dabi pulled ahead of me.
“Got you!” My arm was yanked back, causing me to cry out and fall, hitting my head. I heard yelling and I saw a flash of blue go above me. I saw the hero fall next to me. I was picked up, being thrown over their shoulder before they started running.
“Shit!” They yelled. I groaned and held onto the back of Dabi’s coat. “You know this was not in the plan today, idiot.” He yelled at me. I hit my fist against his hip.
“Not like I planned this either.” I yelled back. He hit me on the ass before taking a sharp turn and skidding to a stop. He set me on the ground and pointed at a basement window.
“Get in.” He said. I moved without hesitation and dropped down through the window. He came in just after me and grabbed me by the waist pulling me down to sit against the wall under the window. He wrapped his arm around my neck and he placed his hand tightly over my mouth as footsteps run up outside the window.
“Shit.” I heard the hero grumble under his breath. I looked over at Dabi and his eyes were locked on the window. The hero yelled out and a flash of energy broke the window. I tried to yelp but Dabi’s hand kept me quiet as he covered me from the falling glass.
“Over-dramatic much.” Dabi said taking his hand away after we heard him walk away. I chuckled before he finally looked at me. Our faces were barely an inch a part. I gasped silently while locking gazes with his turquoise eyes. We sat there for a few seconds before I pulled away slightly.
“Is Dabi playing the hero, swooping in and saving me from…” I was moving away from him, trying to move his arm from my shoulders when he grabbed my chin and pulled me back connected his lips with mine. I yelped before I fell into the kiss.
“Don’t call me a hero.” He threatened while barely pulling away. I nodded meekly and he smirked before kissing me again. All of a sudden, a group of running footsteps came into the alleyway. We pulled away and Dabi glared up at the window, pulling me into him more.
“Sir, that one you were chasing wasn’t a part of the robbery. Multiple witnesses attested to it. She was telling the truth.” We heard someone say.
“Well no shit.” I muttered. Dabi gave me a side eye.
“Damn but that doesn’t matter. I found them with that villain Dabi. They have some connection with him.” The hero said. “In my books that makes her as bad as the rest of them.”
“Dabi? A high profile villain with a disheveled bystander like them?” I halfway glared up at the window.
“Yes. Keep an eye out for them. I lost them in this area.” We heard sounds of acknowledgement before retreating footsteps. Dabi let go of me and stood up slowly. He looked through the window before holding out a hand without looking at me.
“Come on.” He pulled me farther into the building. “Looks like we’re going to have to find another way out.” He grumbled. We got up to the ground level and the police were outside the main doors and in the alley ways.
“Looks like we’re going to have to go higher.” I said. He groaned before we ran up the stairs to a level that was above the height of the next building. Dabi, without a second thought, jumped across to the roof. He turned and looked at me once he landed.
“Come on.” He ordered. I gulped and looked through the window and down. We were at least 8 stories up. Below, a police officer looked up and I shot back and backed up against the wall. “Y/N, come on!” He yelled out. I took a breath and moved back to the window.
“I don’t do this every day, Dabi.” I said stepping up on the window seal. I took a big breath before pushing off. I fell the distances only to land unsteadily on the ledge. I started to fall before my hand was grabbed and I was yanked onto the roof completely.
“God! How many times am I going to have to save your ass?” He griped. I chuckled into his chest.
“Well since I am now known for knowing you…who knows.” I chirped. He groaned out loud. He looked around with his arm still wrapped around me. He let his head fall back, looking up to the sky.
“Come on, let’s get going before you find another way to get us in even more trouble.” He pulled me along. I laughed out loud as he rolled his eyes at me.
#dabi headcanons#mha dabi#bnha dabi#dabi fanfic#dabi imagine#imagine#imagines#dabi x reader#mha fanfiction#mha imagines#mha headcanons#dabi#mha#mha x reader#my hero academia#my hero imagines#my hero academia imagines#my hero academia fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#bnha headcanons#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#bnha#touya todoroki#boku no hero academia#boku no hero headcanons#boku no hero x reader
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