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lucy-sky · 3 years

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The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)

You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.

Words: 3 656

Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you

A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle, @lunamoon-87

“There he is.”

Stella pokes you with her elbow.

“What?”

“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.

“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”

“Stella, please.”

“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”

“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”

“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.

“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”

You chuckle at this.

“Don’t you dare.”

To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.

Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.

“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”

You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet.

You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.

Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.

“Hey.”

You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.

“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”

“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you face him again.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.

“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”

You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”

“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say.

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”

There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.

“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”

“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?”

“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.

You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”

“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”

“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”

“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”

You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”

“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”

“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”

“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.

You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.

“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.

“Leo, I…”

He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.

“Yeah?”

“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”

“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”

“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.

You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together.

“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.

“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”

“You too.”

You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time.

“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.

You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.

A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.

Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.

You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it.

You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.

When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.

Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.

“Y/n.”

Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”

“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”

“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”

Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”

“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”

He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”

You finally turn to meet his gaze.

“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”

“Did… you do it?”

“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”

“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”

“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.

“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night.

Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight.

All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.

He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.

“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”

“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”

You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.

“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”

“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.

“Okay.”

Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare.

You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.

Thanks for reading!

Hugs, Lucy

#the purge #leo barnes x reader #frank grillo #fanfiction #the purge fanfiction #the purge anarchy #the purge election year #lucy tries to write

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for.

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia

Pairing: Gen

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch.

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered.

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis.

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label.

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information.

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised.

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well.

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases.

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps.

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes.

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?”

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case.

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner.

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better.

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully.

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that.

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively.

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away.

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air.

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer.

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand.

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning.

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important.

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.”

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you.

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it.

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

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kim-taehung · 3 years

Text

revelation - first arrival

byun baekhyun x reader (has a vagina)

smut, established relationship, 2k words

almost getting caught is the fun part. part one of a trilogy that chronicles y/n and baekhyun's growing discovery of the pleasures of...public pleasure.

ft. ceo! baekhyun

warnings: public (semi-public?) sex, fingering

a/n: i'm going straight to hell for this one, and it isn't even that dirty

pt. (ii) pt. (iii)

masterlist

it happens for the first time at an auction. one of those fancy black tie events, where the bidding begins high enough to rent a fully furnished two bedroom and the items would look out of place anywhere other than a museum.

rich people.

but you're anything but present, shifting in your seat, waiting for the event to finish so you can get out of your outrageously expensive heels, when you feel baekhyun's hand on your knee.

it's romantic at first, it truly is. he's had at least a finger on you the entire night, offering a hand to help you out of the limo so you don't trip, warm palm settled on the small of your back as he introduces you to his colleagues, fingers brushing smoothly across your shoulders as he helps you out of your coat so he can hand it over at the coat room, thigh pressed against yours as you two wait in line side by side to get his paddle.

but now, as his fingers trace up the fabric of your dress, just stopping short of mid-thigh, where your knee-length dress has ridden up, you know it's different.

you've only been dating a short while. but you've had sex enough times to know when he's getting restless. and when you had seen his expression as you stepped out of the bathroom in the outfit he had gifted you, given him a twirl as his eyes raked down your body and he slowly bit his lower lip, you knew that it'd be a miracle if you got through the night without that restlessness making an appearance.

all traces of boredom leave your body as his fingers move a couple of millimetres higher.

on stage, the auctioneer is calling out a new item and in the ensuing excitement, you dare to turn your head and look at the man next to you.

leaned back against the chair, his crisp suit across broad shoulders and his gelled back hair cut an imposing figure. elegant fingers curl around the stem of his champagne glass, paddle left forgotten with a derisive sort of carelessness on the satin clothed table. he makes no pretense of engagement, looking absently around with a vague sort of interest at the two bidders who are facing off for a 17th century, gold gilded vase.

but under the table, his pinky finger begins to tap, as if itching to go higher, waiting for your go ahead.

you watch his neck move as he swallows, his eyebrow arched perfectly in an arrogant expression that you know is effective in dissuading all the 'boring, entitled, snobbish assholes' from attempting to engage in mindless conversation with him. (his words.)

his finger is still tapping, and you've gotten entirely too comfortable with the sensation of his large palm sat warm on your lap, but you know there's no way you'll be able to keep your composure if he goes any further.

slowly, gently cupping your hand around his, you move it in the opposite direction in which it was steadily going.

he shows no resistance, easily letting you guide him back to your knee. but once you stop moving, he bends his head toward yours.

far enough to convince any onlookers of innocence, but close enough for you to feel the heat of his body and the whisper of his breath against the shell of your ear, he whispers, even as his palm flexes gently right above your knee, squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

"are you scared of getting caught?"

you feel a shiver run down your spine at his low tone, but what really surprises you is how affected you are by what he says.

surrounding crowd and bright lights be damned, you turn toward him with a shaky smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. there's challenge in his eyes, and a smirk waiting right behind his conceited façade, you can tell. loathe as you are to admit it, it seals the deal.

with a deep breath, you slowly unwrap your fingers from around his hand, once again facing the front. you're glad for the position of the table you're sat on, wall directly behind the two of you with the stage diagonally in front.

you steal another glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and catch a flash of his insofar hidden cocky smirk that he hides with another sip of champagne.

around you, the bidding has begun for a basquiat.

under the table, his hand has restarted its journey upward.

this time, he takes the hem of your dress with him, the tips of his appendages grazing your rapidly pimpling skin, leaving a freezing fire in their wake.

you've become completely focused on their path and the growing wetness between your legs, that you nearly don't notice when a steward stops right in front of your table.

baekhyun's hand stills, but remains firmly attached, now just a few inches away from the top of your thighs, exhileratingly close to your core.

you clear your throat and offer a small smile to the new arrival, trying not to resent him and rationalising that he's just here to do his job. he moves next to baekhyun and ducks low to whisper, "sir, the item you had requested to be notified about is next. lot 48."

baekhyun nods in thanks, waits until the man walks away, and covers the last stretch of your thigh in the next ten seconds.

you try not to seem hassled as you watch him turn back around, nonchalant as ever even as he fiddles with the bottom of your underwear, just to the side of where you've been steadily needing him more and more.

"baek," you hiss, holding in a gasp as he pulls the bottom elastic band of your underwear before letting it snap back against your skin at the top of your thighs. "you have to bid."

both of you look at the auctioneer finishing up with lot 47, watch as the next item, an 18th century stradivarius violin, is brought in and placed on the stand, wait as he describes the instrument. and the entire time, baekhyun is moving closer and closer to the heat in between your legs.

and right when bidding opens, he ducks towards you once again, drops a chaste kiss against your cheek that could be interpreted as romantic by anybody watching, and whispers, "i only need one hand to make you come."

the next second, his paddle is in the air, and his palm is cupping your pussy through the wet fabric of your underwear.

“mr. byun, opening the bidding,” the auctioneer calls, gavel held in his hand as his eyes rove around the room, proceeding to call out the four others interested in the item in quick succession.

mr. byun, you wrily think, taking a sip of champagne to compose yourself, opening my legs.

his hand is warm against you, but stilled in their position, tip of his middle finger directly atop your clit. you hope nobody is looking at you too closely, because you're sure that with even just a little scrutiny, people will be able to make out the fakeness of your smile and the calculatedly slow measure of your inhales.

with bated breath, you await his next move.

"seven million, ms. hyejin placing her bid at seven million. do i see a seven point five?"

baekhyun's lazy tone as he drawls, "seven point five," diametrically contrasts with the sudden pressure of his middle finger against your clit. he doesn't even move it. just presses, and lets you squirm.

so that's how it's going to be.

you know when to expect the next move now. but it doesn't make it any less frustratingly exciting.

this time, right before he puts his paddle up for nine million, his index finger joins in on the fun. as he speaks, awe-inspiring disinterest in his voice even when he bids enough money to cover the life insurance of ten people, your now swollen clit is pinched.

you can't hold in the squeak slash moan you let out, your legs instinctively clamping on his wrist, not letting it move. at this point, you're so wet that you could probably pour the champagne that you're periodically sipping into your underwear and there'd be no difference.

he doesn't wait for the next bid to execute his subsequent move.

with a soft, barely-there chuckle, as the attention of the room moves to the only other person who hasn't dropped out of the bidding, he begins to stroke your clit.

not the quick, hard and rough rubbing that you need to get off, and you so very badly want to get off now; but little, feather-like strokes up and down that make you shiver in need, even though you can feel a trail of sweat now running down the side of your neck.

through your now glassy eyes, you can faintly make out the skepticism on ms. hyejin's face as she bids nine point five million, knowing that baekhyun's next quote is going to be the last.

just as you debate moving your hips so you can get some more friction from his stroking finger, with the sole purpose of getting off before this ends, he ducks his head toward you, ceasing all coherent thought.

this time, he's closer than he's ever come the entire night, lips brushing against your ear. your soft whine as he suddenly stills his hand is stopped in its tracks as he whispers, "try not to be too obvious when you come. unless you want to get caught."

and just like that, like the sound of the auctioneer banging the gavel on wood is a pistol shooting before the start of a race, he begins to rub.

your eyes very nearly roll into your head; but you're forced to keep on a proud smile as baekhyun nods at the people congratulating him for acquiring the most expensive thing in the catalogue, all the while his finger bringing you closer and closer.

distantly, you're so very glad for the auctioneer and his too loud voice as he calls out the next item, diverting any attention that might have otherwise been on you.

you bury your head in the crook of his neck when your orgasm hits, your thighs clamping shut as you try not to shake too much, tiny whimpers muffled by the material of his suit.

for his part, he does admirably well pretending that he didn't just make his girlfriend come by fingering her under the table at a high-profile auction, while also bidding and acquiring a ten million dollar violin.

all in a day's work.

he works you through the tiny tremors, slowing down his finger before gently pulling his arm out, other hand stroking your hair as you sigh softly and slump against his shoulder.

you can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses you on the forehead, letting you catch your breath, but the moment you make to move, he's speaking in a low growl.

"let's get out of here."

the look in his eyes leaves no doubt as to why he wants to get out of here, and you'd be a fool to say no. the fire he had taken so long to stoke and fan has only dimmed slightly, and a surreptitious look down at his lap confirms that he's just as affected.

adjusting your underwear and pulling your dress down, you take his held out hand.

it's sticky.

he gives you a wicked grin, flashing into startling presence as you feel yourself getting turned on again at the realisation, before he stands up, and helps you out of the chair.

you only stumble slightly, but gather your wits about you as baekhyun leads the way out of the room, skirting the wall and nodding at the steward who opens the door.

his hand flexes around yours, the only indication of his impatience; although, you're pleased to note a slight furrow of his eyebrows that wasn't there previously.

the corridor is deserted, and you half-expect the fucking to happen then and there, but baekhyun is famous man. and famously private. even for your newly adventurous libido, an area this exposed and open is too much too fast.

which is why the two of you end up in the men's room that's tucked away at the end of the corridor.

the look of victory on his face when he looks at you after locking the door sends a thrill down your spine and leaves you, somehow, wetter than earlier.

"there could still be cameras," you warn softly, even as your traitorous arms reach forward, grabbing at the lapels of his suit and helping him shuck it off.

the last thing you hear before his lips crash into yours, your fingers tangling in his hair as he undoes his belt, fire blazing in his eyes, is, "i don't care."

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softyoongiionly · 4 years

Text

Will You Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change...

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: HELLO YES I MISSED YOU. Guys, I swear i’m working on updating my series (plural) but, I’ve been out of writing for a while and, I needed something to get me back in the groove. What better way than to continue to affirm that my love for Jungkook is unavoidable and, unstoppable. i love youuuuu. This is unedited for now, please forgive any mistakes, I was too excited.

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

After 4 grueling months of relentless studying and lectures, you can finally say that your second to last semester of university is finally over.

Finals week is still at the entrance of your subconscious as its literally all you’ve been able to think about for quite some time. You haven’t been able to unwind or see your friends and, if you’re being honest, you don’t remember the last time you actually slept for more than four hours at a time.

The good news is…

All of that is now behind you.

The exams have been taken, the textbooks have been returned or re-sold, the mountain of instant meals have been cleared from your kitchen (for now) and, you are currently on the subway headed to celebrate with the only person in the world that could properly bring you out of your post-exam haze:

Your boyfriend, Jungkook.

Jungkook is a kinesiology major, whom you met in one of your labs nearly two years ago. The two of you were friends for a long time before you finally got up the courage to kiss him at a party 5 months ago. And by courage, you mean you had a little too much to drink and, Jungkook looked way too good in his university crew neck so, you awkwardly leaned in to kiss him and he, being the absolute angel he is, pecked you on the lips before explaining to you that he wouldn’t kiss you properly until you were sober.

The next day, you woke up in his bed, alone. Your first response was to panic but, upon slowly sitting up in his sheets, you find Jungkook curled up on the floor amongst a pile of blankets. After a few slightly uncomfortable conversations, the two of you arranged a date and, started…you know…falling in love

Or whatever…

Fun fact: Given the fact that you’ve only been with Jungkook for a few months, the two of you have yet to be intimate. Jungkook stated early on that he wanted to take things slowly and, of course you were more than ok with that.

He’s been more and more comfortable with heavier petting so to speak as of lately but, the farthest you’ve ever gone was having his hand down your panties, and your hand over the seam of his jeans. And you’re fine with the progression of your sex life with Jungkook but, he’s only ever made you cum before and, every time you try and return the favor he politely declines.

“It’s ok, I just wanted you to finish jagi…”

“I’m ok, don’t worry, it will go down soon. Do you feel good though? Did I do it right?”

“Soon baby, I promise, it’s just not the right time yet.”

Once again, you’d never push him into something he didn’t want to do but, you were slightly confused as to why he never wanted you to reciprocate.

Jungkook is quite frankly the best boyfriend in the entire world. He’s all of the cheesy stuff and, more. Things have been progressing slowly but, you didn’t mind. Whatever you have with him, it feels real.

And to be completely honest, you miss him so much that it’s starting to really get to you.

20 minutes later and, you’re in front his place and sending a quick text to let him know you’ve arrived.

You: I’m outside

You: please save me, it’s freezing :’’’(

Not even a full minute goes by before you hear the fumbling of the lock and, you quickly prepare yourself to latch onto your boyfriend like a freaking spidermonkey.

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen him face to face so, you can imagine your confusion (and disappointment) when you’re met with the face of his older brother instead.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s dimpled smile is a sight for sore eyes but, it does nothing to wane your confusion, “Kook is passed out upstairs but, he told me earlier to be on the lookout for you in case he fell asleep, which he did.”

A smile is passed to Namjoon as he holds the door open for you, “Of course he did, thanks Joon, is it just you guys right now?”

Jungkook has six brothers and, they all live under the same roof, so the rent is split in seven equal parts.

It’s the only way for them to afford a house off campus.

“Nah Jin and Tae are upstairs too, everyone else is out.” He murmurs and, its then you notice the dark circles decorating the space beneath his eyes.

“Gotcha, are you excited to be done with finals? I feel like I could sleep for 15 years…” You jest, nudging him gently, knowing full well that Namjoon was feeling the same sense of exhaustion you were.

He chuckles and nods immediately, walking with you to the bottom of the stairs, eyes flitting eagerly towards his bedroom.

“That is literally my plan for the rest of the day. I have an adjustment on my project and, after I get that submitted, I’m falling asleep and not talking to anyone for at least 24 hours.” He declares, the seriousness in his tone causing you to giggle.

“I’ll make sure to thwart any of the guys that try to fuck with your beauty sleep…” You vow, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the good ones Y/N…” He laughs, jerking his chin towards Jungkook’s door, “he’s missed you a lot.”

Namjoon’s response is unexpected and it warms you from the inside out.

“Yeah? Did he say something to you?”

You feel like you’re in middle school again, attempting to figure out if your crush likes you.

“He was whining about it the other day, he’s really into you.” Namjoon smirks, before sending a pointed look your way, “don’t tell him I told you that though, he’d kill me.”

The smile on your face probably looks a little ridiculous but, you don’t care, you’re only concern is getting up these stairs and into your boyfriend’s bed.

“I wouldn’t want to expose you for breaking the bro-code.” You return his smirk, passing him to ascend the staircase, “Get some rest, thank you for letting me in.”

“You got it. Have a good night.” Namjoon disappears behind his bedroom door rather quickly, eager to pass out and, you suddenly feel your heartrate increase as you grow closer to Jungkook’s room.

You really did miss him and, the urge to jump into his arms is stronger than you’d like to admit.

Especially given that you know he’s asleep and, you’d have to wait for him to wake up. And you would, cause you know, he deserves to sleep as long as he wants.

You’re not certain that you won’t fall asleep with him.

The door to his room is opened carefully and quietly and, shut just the same.

His bedroom is almost too dark due to the blackout curtains that hung over his windows; a birthday present from his brother Yoongi, they are his new favorite thing.

Jungkook must have shut them in a haste however because, there is a tiny sliver of light shining through which thankfully provides you with a clear path way to his bed.

Soft snores emit from the pillow closest to the windows and, all you can see is Jungkook’s mop of black hair peeking out from underneath his covers. The hum of his noise machine is a comforting sound and, paired with the woodsy vapors coming from his diffuser (a gift from Namjoon), you could feel the sleepiness beginning to tug at your body.

With your overnight bag placed on Jungkook’s gaming chair, you make your way to his bed and slowly peel the covers back.

Oh-

Despite the fact that it’s freezing outside, your boyfriend has unfortunately decided to sleep shirtless, his toned body clad only in his favorite grey sweatpants and, a pair of black socks.

He looks like a god but, you know, that’s totally fine and, not at all distracting.

His brows are furrowed in deep sleep, his cherry lips formed into a slight pout, snores still rumbling deep within his chest. One of his arms is bent at the elbow and, tucked firmly underneath his pillow, his other arm stretched out across the expanse of his bed.

Which of course, poses an issue for you since you don’t want to disturb his sleep but, you want nothing more than to snuggle up to him.

(forever)

Jungkook is a pretty heavy sleeper so, the likelihood of waking him is pretty slim and even if you do, you can at least take comfort in the fact that he’s expecting you.

So you slowly lift his arm, quickly tucking yourself into the warmth of his bed and, move the covers back to their original position. It isn’t super comfortable but, you’re afraid to move anymore in fear of waking him up.

Your hands absentmindedly trail over his forearms, admiring the warm, caramel undertones in his skin and, the veins which protrude gently underneath the surface.

His hand is still covered in the temporary tattoos he got nearly two months ago.

Being the Virgo that he is, Jungkook wanted to insure he liked the chosen designs before deciding to get the real thing. You certainly aren’t complaining but, you are secretly hoping he decides to keep them.

Jungkook and tattoos: a lethal combination.

You lay like this for awhile, admiring your boyfriend, listening to the various white noises echoing off the walls, enjoying the scent of his freshly washed sheets.

He washes his bedding once a week.

Sure enough, you feel your lids grow heavier and heavier, the temptation of sleep growing ever so slightly at the back of your mind.

However, Jungkook’s hand twitches at your side and, you feel movement beside you, causing your head to tilt in his direction.

You’re met with a sleepy smile and, a gaze so endearing, you might just die right then and there.

“You’re here…” He murmurs, voice raspy and decorated with sleep.

It doesn’t take you long to get closer to him, his free arm not leaving your body in order to hug you against his bare chest.

“I’m here…” You answer, a smile in your voice, pursing your lips to place kisses on his skin.

Jungkook smiles properly now but, you don’t see it, your face tucked firmly into his neck.

He’s so happy you’re here.

His arm moves out from underneath his pillow to envelope you completely, shy lips pressing a few kisses to the top of your head as he shifts onto his back, taking you with him.

“Missed you..” He mumbles almost, coy and unsure but, genuine.

As he usually is.

A smile erupts on your mouth now, as you look up to face him and, for whatever reason you’re overcome with the need to feel his lips against yours. So you do just that and, secure your mouth to his, letting a deep breath out through your nose. His quick too, big hands sliding down your back to hold onto your hips.

“Missed you more” You whisper against his lips, a little breathless from the depth of the kiss you’ve just shared.

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss you again, “No…me…”

The childish nature of his response makes you giggle, accepting another kiss eagerly.

“If you missed me so much, why did you make Namjoon let me in hm?” You tease, still kissing at his mouth, one of your hands sliding over his ribcage.

He nibbles at your lip in retaliation, a slight smirk on his mouth, “Cause I was tired and, you were taking forever…”

Jungkook chuckles at his own whining and, you follow suit whilst shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’re only further proving my point, I rode the silver line to get here, just because it was faster and, I walked through the cold just so I could see your stupid face…”

By stupid, you mean beautiful but like, he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook laughs harder this time, its higher pitched and more genuine, his hands that are on your hips squeeze in retaliation.

“My face isn’t stupid….you’re stupid…” He chuckles, teasing you because, its one of his many ways of coping with how he feels for you.

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, your comeback dying in the back of your throat as your hand comes up to rest against his cheek.

The two of you can’t stop smiling and, giggling as you indulge one another, ignoring the clumsy way your lips connect.

“You look so beautiful like this…comfy…” He adds, his tone taking on a shyer tone as he nudges your nose, eyes half open, “I really did miss you jagiya…”

His words send emotion careening into your chest and, you can’t help the way your lips respond more eagerly against his.

“You make comfy look like a Calvin Klein campaign…” You retort before adding, “I missed you too. You’re staying home this winter too right?”

It’s a rarity for both of you stay on campus during winter break but, this year your families had decided to come to you.

He nods, eyes still soft as he tucks your hair behind your ear, lips pouted that you stopped kissing him for a moment, “Mhm…we’ll be here together…”

Jungkook has his moods like most people do but, there is a certain way he gets that you swear he reserves only for you. Being the youngest of seven boys, he’s used to being the source of a lot of banter and, teasing so, being with you is no exception but, recently he’s been getting softer and softer.

Sweeter and sweeter…

And you’re not complaining…

“We will.” You affirm, pecking his lips again, “we can go on all those dates we’ve been promising eachother.”

He nods, pulling the duvet up higher over the two of you, “Yeah, I have a lot of ideas but, I want to hear your ideas too…but I’m excited for mine…”

Another giggle leaves your lips at his almost jovial tone, his competiveness sneaking through a bit.

“I’m happy I get to spend the night with you more, you keep me warm.” You hum, delighting in the fact that Jungkook blushes at your statement.

“I keep you warm?” He checks, securing his teeth to his bottom lip, nibbling on it nervously.

With a nod of your head, you snuggle into his body, taking in the scent that was uniquely Jungkook: woodsy and clean, free of any harshness.

“So warm.” You whisper against his neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Though, as gentle as the kiss was, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from immediately plumping up from within the confines of his sweatpants. His neck is his weak spot.

You don’t feel him yet but, you do notice a reaction from him: his head tilts back ever so slightly, feet rubbing together at the end of the bed. The teasing words stay trapped in your throat as you decide to push your luck and, kiss him there again, letting your lips linger longer than before.

He doesn’t stop you when you place a third kiss into the sweet spot on his neck, or a fourth or a fifth but, soon enough he feels his dick filling out the empty space in his sweat pants, the sensation of your lips beginning to get to him.

“Jagiya?” He croons into the darkness of the room whilst his heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands sort of fidgeting against your hips.

“Hm?” You hum, kissing up his neck towards his lips, “Are you ok?”

He isn’t, he’s hard and, there is four months of stress sitting on his shoulders that he is certain your lips will melt away but, he’s so nervous.

“Uh…I’m…” He stutters for the right words but, you already know what he’s trying to say because, you can feel him now, pressing into your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” You place a gentle kiss to his stuttering mouth, wanting to check with him before you continue.

“No…yes, shit I-“ He looks torn, glancing down towards his dick before looking back at you, “I don’t know jagi, I’m sorry…”

Immediately, you shake your head, pulling back to look at him, “Hey…hey it’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for ok? We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. I should have asked you if it was ok to kiss you there…”

He shakes his head now, pulling you closer, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I want you to kiss me and…touch me, I just wish I wasn’t so…” He sighs, biting his lip, dark eyes flitting nervously around, “I’ve just never…let anyone make me cum before…”

You have to admit, this shocks you.

Jungkook was obviously a campus heartthrob, literally everyone had a crush on him, even the Dean and, while you didn’t think that made him into some kind of Casanova, you had been certain that he had some sexual experience before meeting you.

But clearly, you were wrong.

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you pull his gaze back to yours, “There’s nothing wrong with that babe. We all do things at our own pace. The two of us have all the time in the world, you can wait as long as you need to…”

His fingers curl slightly against your hips, shifting you until your sitting in his lap, causing you to ignore the way his length feels pressing into your core. A deep breath is needed but, it doesn’t last long because, Jungkook speaks again, surprising you.

“Noona I-“ He kisses you again, trying to focus on anything other than his throbbing dick, “I don’t want to wait anymore though…I’m just really nervous.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks but, you remain focused, allowing him to take all of the time he needs.

“That’s ok, it’s ok to be nervous.” You assure him gently, kissing between his eyes, “Can I ask what you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t know what it’s going to be like and, I don’t know…my hyungs say it feels amazing but, I don’t want to do the wrong thing or what if you use your mouth and, it tastes bad or something, fuck I sound really dumb, I swear…I’m ….”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling fondly into his skin as your hands come up to rub tenderly at his back.

“Slow down for me baby.” You whisper and, the words along with your touch are enough to calm him slightly, “you say you don’t want to wait right? So, what would you be comfortable with us doing right now? It doesn’t have to be all at once, we can take things slow.”

His fingers explore the skin on your hips, as he wears a nervous but eager expression, “I don’t want our first time to be…here or like…after all of this. I don’t think I’m ready for the way you’ll make me feel, I can barely hang on when you’re sitting on me like this but, I…”

His eyes flit down to your center for a moment, as if the thought of being inside of you overwhelms him. He looks back up at you, lips swollen from all of the kiss, his timid expression tainted with lust.

“I wanna feel what it’s like to have someone touch me…I want you to touch me really bad.”

The world could be ending beyond Jungkook’s blackout curtains and, it still wouldn’t be enough to stop you from honoring his request.

Your finger tilts his chin towards your lips, “I want to touch you too. Can I touch you right now?”

He nods immediately, swallowing around a dry throat and an unsteady heartbeat. To soothe himself, he kisses you again before, nudging your nose playfully, trying to ease the tension he feels.

“Ok, I’m going to get behind you alright?”

Your response confuses him and, you can tell but, you know he’ll catch on soon enough. He leans forward, allowing you sit directly behind him, your legs on either side of his silhouette, your body encircling him with your warmth.

“Lean back against me…” You whisper in his ear, causing him to shiver as he obliges, his bare back now flush against your chest. “Comfy?’

He chuckles, his cheeks on fire at the position you’re both in but, he nods none the less, his hands moving to the outsides of his thighs and, then to tops of your knees, rubbing the skin there.

“Now, I want you to show me how you touch yourself ok? So I can see what you like and, then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll touch you.” You explain gently, kissing around the shell of his ear, your hands coming to brush over his hips.

Jungkook already feels like he could cum, he just can’t believe you’re about to touch him.

He has no idea what to expect.

“Ok…” He tilts his lips to mumble against your mouth, his tone boyish and jovial, “ You promise you won’t laugh right?”

At his question you giggle, kissing him and shaking your head, “Of course I’m not going to laugh babe, I’m here to make you feel good.”

He chuckles too, relishing in the way you make him feel: comfortable and comforted.

“OK, I’ll uh…I’ll start now…” He whispers, his shaky and quite frankly clammy hand leaves your knee and, slowly travels to the band of his sweatpants, tucking underneath for a moment before bringing his dick out from it’s confines.

It’s bigger than you anticipated and, as hot as any dick can be. Swollen and curving slightly at the reddened tip, it makes your mouth water; literally every inch of your boyfriend is beautiful.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath in through his nose as he encircles a hand around his length, squeezing tentatively right underneath the tip, the sensation makes his head spin.

He stays silent as he finds a rhythm his comfortable with and, you admire the way his toned stomach trembles with his own ministrations. You take note that he pays careful attention to his frenulum, his thumb rubbing over it continuously as he strokes himself.

After a few moments, you start pressing kisses into his neck, allowing your hands to wander over his hips, tracing patterns into his skin.

“Jagi…I-“ He mutters before his words catch on the softest moan, the sound of course caused by you nibbling on his neck, “You’re making it so good for me…”

He sounds helpless, like he knows that you touching him is going to ruin him because, you touching on him whilst he jacks off is already fucking him up.

“Yeah? It feels good?” You reaffirm before sucking gently on his sweetspot, a motion that causes his hand to stall right underneath his tip, his head falling back against you.

“Mhm…” He hums and, if he wasn’t reigning it in, he would be whining but, he stops himself, trying to gain some sense, “Do you know how to touch me now?”

He’s starting to feel impatient, because he knows the way your hands feel on him now and, his dick is so hard he feels like he could burst.

You smirk fondly against his neck as you nod slowly, your hand trailing over his wrist which is still working on his length, “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” He answers immediately, letting his hand fall to the side, his eyes closing tightly as he prepares himself for your touch.

“Just relax for me ok? I’m going to make you feel so good.” You coo into his ear before slowly resuming the touch on Jungkooks length.

At the first squeeze of your hand, he’s quite certain he has never felt more pleasure in his entire life, as you slowly drag your fist up his aching dick, his mouth falls open in complete awe but, when you begin the same rhythm he had just performed on himself, Jungkook swears his going to melt into a puddle on the bed.

“Oh-“ He huffs, his eyes popping open to zero in on your hand because, watching you touch him is enough to fill up his spank bank for the rest of the year. “Oh my god…Noona…you’re touching me…”

He’s in disbelief. In 22 years, his never let anyone touch him like this before and, although he can’t believe he ever lived without it, he’s glad it was you who touched him first.

“Mhm…” You hum in his ear, kissing gently on the side of his face, “Does it feel good baby?”

As your thumb repeats his early movements, his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, his adams apple jumping around his throat as he swallows.

“I can’t…feel anything else but, your hand on my dick I-oh my fucking god…” He whimpers, his eyes popping open again to watch your pace increase.

His words surprise you, he’s never been so vulgar before and, now you know why but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear more.

“Nothing else huh? Do you think you’re gonna cum for me baby?” You’re egging him on, wanting him to cum his brains out for you.

You gotta make a good first impression after all…

He nods, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his abs trembling even more so with your motions, his toes curling painfully against the sheets.

“Yeah…really soon…for you..” He gets out, not thinking clearly enough to form full sentences.

“Yeah? What if I went a little faster hm? Would that do the trick baby? Will you make a mess now?”

Oh he’s fuck now.

As your pace increases on him, you focus more attention on his throbbing tip, pulling and squeezing him to the point of no return. Jungkook feels nothing but, pleasure as he starts to rock his hips up into your touch.

“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…oh my god you’re so good…” He mutters before a whimper takes over his speech, eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back against you once more, “fuck….thank you Noona…god thank you so much…”

Those are his last words before his release comes, the sweltering pleasure consuming his entire being, starting up from his balls and, shooting up his length. Jungkook knows in his heart he’s never cum so hard in his life. Nothing could ever compare to the way you make him feel.

“There you go…let it out baby…” You whisper, kissing at his cheeks as you stroke him through his release.

Once his hips begin to twitch with sensitivity, you slow your pace on him, easing off his dick.

Jungkook’s breathing his erratic and, he feels drunk off of the pleasure he’s just received but, he knows for a fact that he came all over himself and, all over your hand.

You wait for him to open his eyes so, he can watch you lick his release from your fingers, taking time to show him the skills of yours he’s yet to experience.

“holy shit…” He mutters, eyes completely glazed over before leaning in and capturing your lips between his and, kissing you with everything he has.

You giggle against his lips before, squealing unceremoniously into the kiss as Jungkook turns quickly in your grip, falling back towards the foot of the bed and, taking you with him. He just chuckles, kissing you harder as he lets his hands run a little more freely over your body.

“I’m guessing you liked it?” You tease into the kiss before he leans back, his expression completely offended.

“Liked it? You’re guessing I liked it???” He blazes dubiously before, pinching your sides and, suddenly leaning into kiss all over your face, nibbling on your cheeks, “You almost made me cry…”

“You cry all the time…” You point out, pinching his side back, causing him to gasp in mock horror.

“Shut upppp…” He whines, smirking as he tucks his face into your neck, nibbling on the skin again and, while it seems innocent, soon enough Jungkook’s nibbling turns into kissing and, his playful touch on your hips turns to caressing.

“Noona?” His tone has shifted lower, it shoots straight down to your core.

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes shut against the sensation of his lips.

“Will you make a mess now?”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Storm 9

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), teasing, some fingering

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Um, some stuff happens.

(I can’t blame @lokislastlove but I will anyway)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

That night was as sleepless as many since your arrival at the palace. You mourned your old life not just for its simplicity but for the restful nights, even if they hadn’t been very long then either.

In the morning, the routine you’d formed was the only thing that kept you from stewing in anxiety and self-pity. You just couldn’t help but sink yourself further into the mud.

You took the tray from the kitchen and crept your way up the winding staircases to the upper floors. A sense of dread filled you, a cursed sense of deja vu pervaded your mind.

You had to stop to gather yourself outside the solarium, having unintentionally taken a turn that would see you past the king’s chambers. Loki’s were just a single corridor away. Before, they’d felt like a haven but now it was like entering another snare. The snake’s tooth was just as sharp as the lion’s fang.

You took a breath and knocked with your elbow. No answer came and you kicked instead. Still, the silence remained.

Surely you weren’t to carry the tray all the way back to the kitchen, you knew Loki was within. So you balanced the tray against your hip and opened the door as it teetered precariously. You entered and closed the door with your bottom, jostling the lid just a little. The prince, presumably, was still abed.

You went to the balcony and set the tray in its usual place on the round table. You turned back and swept through to the receiving chamber. You listened for any stirs from the bedroom. It would be better to wait.

The prince no doubt recalled the previous night as well as you, though he’d not have an ounce of guilt for it. In fact, you suspected he would be quite indignant on your errant tongue. His curt dismissal, still crisp in your head, assured you of that.

You didn’t wait long as you were called to attendance. Loki’s voice carried through the open door and you froze in place, only then realising how you’d been pacing around the chaise. You went to the doorway and hovered just upon the threshold of the bedchamber.

Loki sat up as you did, his chest bare and pale as the sunlight peered in through the tall windows. His black hair was askew, unlike its usual sleek perfection, and his green eyes were slitted with the remnants of his slumber.

“Ah, timely as always,” He commented as he turned his legs over the side of the bed, the blankets pulling away from him as he did. He was naked and either unaware of it or unaffected by it. “Come here.”

He stretched his arms above him and you reluctantly obeyed. You approached nervously, your eyes on his profile as you prayed they didn’t slip lower. He reached to you as you neared and grabbed your wrist. You let out a yelp as he pulled you close and fell back on the bed with you atop him. Your eyes were wide and fearful as you stared down at him.

He smiled and chuckled, his gazed flicked down and back to your face.

“Forgive me, I did not realise--” He said. “I do forget myself.” He purred, your lips only an inch from his. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me some water?” He sat up and shoved you off of him. “I am terribly thirsty.”

You blinked and bit down on your cheek as you turned to grab the ewer of water on the side table against the far wall. You poured a cup and returned to him. He took it and drained it easily before he stood, handing it back as he sidled past you.

"If you would draw me a bath," He said as he rounded the bed and went to the window.

"Your highness," You uttered stiffly.

You left him, thankful to be away from him, and neared the pump at the head of the ebony tub. You cranked it and watched the water splash down.

You were more angry at yourself than Loki. You knew not to trust him and perhaps you hadn't but you had thought him different than Thor. Sure, he was deceptive, arrogant, and entirely self-serving, but you hadn't thought him to be... like that.

He entered and you stopped the faucet. The water had risen rather high. You stepped out from behind the tub and stared at the marble floor as you walked along the wall to the other side. Loki went to the tub and paused at its edge.

"You might set out my attire for the day. I've a council meeting shortly." He said. "If only I were king and could hold my own pleasure above the needs of the realm."

"Yes, your highness," You were quick in your flight, taking his dismissal before he could rescind.

Even so, you were unnerved that he let you go so easily. As you were learning, Loki was patient and with time, his plots grew ever more sinister.

You went to his wardrobe and chose one of his many green tunics, this one trimmed in silver, and a pair of matching trousers. His heavy emerald jacket was hung at the read from a hook on the wall and you laid it out next to the rest of his outfit. You rubbed your hands together as you listened to the gentle ripples of water and his movement from the next room. No doubt leaving would only make whatever torment he had planned worse. Oh how much like his brother he truly was.

When he emerged, covered from the waist down with a towel, you stood by the door. He approached the bed and looked over your selection with a haughty grin. He let the towel fall slack and bent to dry himself. You looked away and focused on the engraving of a snake hung over the desk.

“Tell me,” He said and you kept your eyes above his shoulders as you glanced at him. “Did my brother have you dress him? Well, of course that’s rhetorical. He must have.”

You pursed your lips and said nothing. The silence was your begrudging answer.

“Don’t worry, dear, I can dress myself,” He took his undershorts and stepped into them. “I will however have you accompany me to the day’s council. The king has insisted upon it though I’d rather he put more effort into his marriage. Figures he would heed his duty when another lays upon his shoulders.”

You found it hard to do more than taste the bile of anger rising on your tongue. You cleared your throat and recited a tame “your highness.”

He smiled to himself and continued to dress. Deliberate and slow, it felt like an eternity before he was clothed. He brushed his hair and glanced in his mirror. He turned his head to admire his sharp features and stood straight. He went to his desk and seized the heavy ledger and a bundle of papers. He approached and thrust them into your arms.

“Very well, let us be off,” He declared. “But I do expect you to wipe that trite look off your face in the presence of the council. I will not shy away from doing it for you should you continue to wear it.”

You inhaled and eased the tension from your jaw as you bowed your head. He stepped past you and strutted into the receiving room.

“Do not tarry,” He called to you. “Unless you do long for my remonstrance.”

🌩️

You did not miss the surprise that raised Loki’s brow as you arrived at the council chamber. Thor was the first there and sat at the head of the long table. Before him, he had his own stack of papers and barely even acknowledged his brother’s presence as he perused them.

The other lords came one at a time. You’d only attended one other session and yet something felt amiss. The way the men and single lady sat wordlessly and eyes flitted here and there, never quite meeting as something remained unsaid. You glanced at Loki for any hint of what it might be and to your surprise he seemed just as perplexed.

Thor brought the meeting to order as he sat up and slapped the table. He took a breath and could barely withhold his questionable pleasure. You peeked at Loki again and then back at the king. He had effectively ignored your presence and you felt as if you should be thankful and yet it only injected you with a sense of foreboding.

“As some of you are already aware, today is more of a formality than anything. I do have a new wife awaiting my attentions and I do hate to disappoint her so early in our union.” Thor announced. “So let us get to the matter at hand.” He paused and raised a hand to Loki who shuffled a paper before him. “Brother, your paltry little gripes can wait until our next. I do not care for the tax on grains.”

Loki’s lip twitched and he merely swallowed his protest. He looked to Sif and then Hogun. They both avoided his gaze and he poked his tongue against his top lip as he thought. Something was indeed going on.

“We will be holding a vote today on the matter of at last reinstating the legacy act.” Thor explained. “Brother, I have always admired your knowledge of our legislation. Surely you are familiar with the act.”

Lines formed around Loki’s lips and across his forehead. His green eyes burned fiercely as he glared at his brother.

“I am aware of it. I am more than. I recall our father disbanded it upon our mother’s insistence and it was upon good reason that he did.” Loki replied. “The kingdom does not need a civil war.”

“Nor does it need an empty throne,” Thor countered smoothly. “My wife, should the fates bless us, is expected to provide me the heirs necessary to continue our lineage but we both know how fickle fate can prove. I should hate to leave my kingdom without a prince, or should we have one, a princess.”

“Calla is young, she has many siblings as did her mother and father,” Loki insisted. “You hardly need insurance upon our bloodline.”

“Ah, but we cannot rely on assumptions or hopes. Didn’t you always warn me of such optimism? Ever the cynic, you are, brother,” Thor chided, “I finally take your advice and you look as if you’ve swallowed your own tongue.”

Loki’s fingers tapped on the stone table and he shrugged. “Very well, put it to a vote then brother. Certainly I am not the only who sees through your foolishness.”

“Before we go forward, are all parties familiar with the contents of the legacy act?” Thor asked. All nodded, Loki with some reluctance as he looked around. “Very well, let us vote. All those in favour,” All but the prince said aye, “And against, “Nay.” Loki shook his head, his defeat already obvious.

Thor nodded and sat back in victory. Swift, neat, easy. You knew as Loki did, as he stared down each member of the council, that they had conspired without him. The prince realised all too late that his brother was just as tricky as he was. You hadn’t any idea what had been done but as the king’s eyes settled on you and he winked, you knew it could not be good.

“Maid,” Loki beckoned to you. “I do favour a walk in the woods. If you would pack my lunch in a basket and await me in my chambers, I shall not be much longer with the matters of council.”

“Your highness,” You dipped your head.

“Quickly,” He bid under his breath and waved you away.

You obeyed, eager to be away as much as he wanted you away. His urgency to have you gone was an ill omen. It confirmed that whatever trouble twinkled in Thor’s eyes would not be good for either you or the prince.

🌩️

You walked along just a step behind Loki as he led you through the trees, stopping to watch a passing bird or look closer at some leaf or petal. He had been quiet since his return from council. He’d not said a word as he tossed a blanket from the chest into the basket you’d packed with cheese, bread, and wine, and a book as well. You carried the heavy load along the narrow trails, the air warm as it was trapped by the thick trunks around you.

You came upon a clearing and he paced around its parameter. He bid you to lay down the blanket and as you did, he sat upon it, one leg bent and the other straight. He rested his elbow on the bent one and hummed in thought. You pulled out his lunch but he didn’t seem very interested in the food.

“Sit,” He said as he gestured beside him. You sat on your knees and stared at the weave of the blanket. “Are you going to ask or shall I take the initiative?”

You peeked over at him and he sighed. You shrugged and he pushed back a strand of his dark hair.

“The legacy act was created to ensure that the kingdom was not left without heir.” Loki rubbed his chin as he spoke. “Be it legitimate or otherwise.” The words seemed sour on his tongue as he forced them out. “It legalizes the keeping of concubines by the monarch so that he may assure himself a continued bloodline.” Loki shook his head. “I am certain you can guess why my brother did take an interest in reviving the antiquated and ridiculous bill.”

Your mouth fell open as it was not difficult to surmise. Even an uneducated servant like yourself could solve such a basic equation. Yet, a part of you still wanted to deny it. The king would not do all that because of you. He could have any woman in the kingdom; in your estimate, he had.

“I do understand.” You said.

Loki was silent and he reached for the loaf of bread. He took a chunk of bread and a piece of cheese and offered it to you. You thanked him as you accepted it but didn’t feel much hunger as that terrible feeling sunk deeper and deeper. Was it destiny or dread?

“Is that it?” You wondered. “Nothing else to say?”

“On the matter of my brother and his foolery? No,” Loki bit into the cheese.

You looked down at the food in your hand and broke off a piece of cheese and bread and began to nibble at it. You ate slowly, silently. The prince offered you more but you declined as you feared your stomach would flip. He packed up the leftovers himself but did not rise. He took the book he had slipped into the basket and sat back, his legs sprawled out before him.

“Do you like stories?” He asked.

“I suppose,” You answered as you played with a blade of grass pulled from along the edge of the blanket. “My mother used to tell us about the monsters found by the fishermen.”

“Well this is nothing so fantastical as that but entertaining nonetheless,” Loki said. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

You considered him a moment. He had tasted bitter defeat and it seemed to humble him but you did not truly believe him. How could you? He had proven himself a convincing actor. Yet, you found the question harmless enough. A story; a brief escape from your reality. Perhaps he was belittling you with the offer but it seemed your pride would be chipped away one way or the other.

“I would,” You accepted. “If it is no trouble to you.”

“Not at all,” He accepted. “Come,” He pointed between his legs, “Sit with me.”

Then it returned. That repulsive flavour, that bubbling sickness. Ridicule. Why had you thought it would be anything less than another trick? You didn’t have the energy to argue with the prince. You’d tried it the night before and found it futile. Humour him and perhaps he would lose interest. It wasn’t so amusing when your prey gave you no chase.

You walked on your knees to him and turned to sit between his legs. His hand rested on your hip as he guided you and bent his legs to cradle you. His hand snaked around to your stomach and he urged you to lean back against him.

“Do you mind if I continue from my mark?” He asked.

“No,” You said flatly. You just didn’t care anymore.

“Very good,” He praised as he opened the book with one hand and cleared his throat.

‘He’d never seen a creature like her. Never seen the coils of sheer delight that seemed to contort her body.’

You went rigid as you registered the words, the scene set without much preamble as his soft tone seeped into your ears.

‘It was at his touch that she writhed and raved. That she pleaded for more and yet, he had barely done anything more than pet her.’

Loki’s hand slipped down your stomach to your lap. Before you could press your legs together, his hand was between them.

“Ahh,” He warned you bluntly. “Just sit and listen. Don’t you move.”

You swallowed and looked at the text. You’d never learned to read and wondered if perhaps he was conjuring the words on his own. It didn’t matter. You just sat there as his finger pressed your skirt against your cunt.

‘He obliged her, his fingers moving almost upon their own accord.’ His own seemed to mimic the written scene. ‘He traced circles along her tender bud and watched those upon her chest sharpen. The way she gasped, moaned, and soon enough, sobbed had him swollen with desire.’

His fingers swirled as he rubbed you through your dress and your thighs squeezed his hand as the peculiar tingle stoked the panic only then breaking through your apathy. You touched his hand and he waved you away with a hum which warned of worse. You bit your lip without thinking as the ripples that rose in you echoed the movement of his fingertips.

‘He slipped further down and felt the sacred folds of her flowers. Two fingers sank into her, coated in her lust, and she choked upon her pleasure.’

His words faded in your mind as his hand stoked your body. You’d never felt anything like it before. You wanted him to stop and yet you didn’t. His voice carried on without a hint of what he was doing to you but you could not focus on the story. You leaned into him and purred as you felt yourself nearing some precipice you couldn’t see.

Your toes curled against your sandals and you grasped Loki’s knee without thinking as you arched your back. You let out a sharp cry as the tension broke suddenly and deluge washed over you. Your eyes rolled back and closed as you panted through the pulsing pleasure and his fingers slowed, easing you down from your peak.

When you opened your eyes, the book was closed. You felt a prodding along your lower back and Loki’s hand floated away from your lap. He felt along your side and sent a shiver through you as he leaned in to inhale the scent of your neck. His lips brushed your skin as he spoke.

“Remember this when he takes you,” He said. “Know that he will never make you feel better than I can.”

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crassussativum · 3 years

Text

Day 9: Spice

@oc-growth-and-development

@turianspeedjunkie

Cornered and outnumbered with sensitive Blackwatch intel in his pocket, Mav cursed hotly. He didn’t know how he’d managed to miss three of the fuckers in all he’d fucking done to clean this shithole up but obviously he fucking had. The minute failure had his mandibles tight to his jaw and a growl rolling low-key in his chest. It was annoying more than anything, inconvenient. He was better armed, armored and trained but they had the better positioning on him. And one, he was sure, was biotic. He could smell that eezo stank and the only reason he hadn’t already been splattered to the four corners of the room was who fucking knew. Mav cursed again and peaked around his cover with his pistol leading.

Two turians and a drell. First time he’d actually gotten eyes on them and he could tell just by looking they weren’t more slavers but regular mercs like he was pretending to be. Fucking Spirits, just what he needed to deal with. And they appeared to be waiting for him to come our of cover rather than trying to flank him. An option for surrender? Sure seemed like it to him. Mav cursed again. He’d really rather not be shot but it was pretty clear all he’d done here and maybe they were in retainer to the slavers he’d just killed. Mav checked the thermal clip.

“I’m fully loaded.” He called around his cover.

“And outnumbered.” One of the turians called back.

“Nothin’ new to me.” Mav laughed and let a little of the well-crafted crazy leak into his vocals. “Sure you noticed, yeah?”

“We did.” A different turian voice, deeper and vaguely displeased.

Mav was starting to think he might have to kill them too. “I’ll take out your biotic first,” He warned. “Got him in my sights now. You wanna bet on how good a marksman I am?”

He gave that a moment to sink in and he really hoped it did. The biotic was a problem he really didn’t want to deal with, that he didn’t have enough leeway to focus on with the other two likely just as dangerous. Mav hoped the mercs didn’t figure that out as quickly as he did and checked the thermal clip again just in case. He could take them if he had to.

“O’course,” He offered when the silence stretched and stretched and they still hadn’t flanked him. “We could just meet in the middle with open hands. You don’t shoot at me and I don’t kill the lot of you. Whatcha say? Seems fair to me, yeah?”

The silence stretched again but finally, he heard the first turian answer him. “I’m not interested if being shot today.” He sighed.

Mav barked a laugh and thanked the Spirits for reasonable men. “Yeah? Me either.” He extended his gun arm out of cover and let them see him pop the thermal clip clear. He waited a beat to see if they were going to double-cross him anyway. “Just to be up front, I’m wired with a killswitch so y’all decide to shoot me anyway, we all go out.”

“Fucking crazy.” One of them muttered.

“Insurance policy.” Mav drawled as he stepped from his cover, hodgepodge armor dented and bloody, as small as he was, he knew he was an unexpected surprise. One of the turians, huge and black plated laughed at the sight of him. The other, pale with icy eyes fluttered his mandibles. Mav couldn’t read the drell at all and there wasn’t any point in guessing. “Well? Y’all think it’s a good day to die or can we all just be on our way?”

#oc-tober 2021 #single word prompts #writing #fanfiction #Mass Effect #mav #day 9 #mercenary!au #(spice bc Mav's attitude #it made sense to me #this is how he met Pet's new master #and somehow didn't get shot lol #turianspeedjunkie

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americasass81 · 3 years

Text

Make Her Mine - Chapter Three

{Warning: 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Fingering, Drugging, Mild Somnophilia, Non-con, Swearing, Choking, Mention of oral, Violence, Male Masturbation, Real Persons Mentioned}

Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you.

A/N: Okay though this started out as something to keep me occupied while I was without Wi-Fi for a week and never really planned on posting it, here at chapter three I would like to thank everyone who seems to like it and hope they get the same kick out of reading it as I’ve had writing it. Having started out with an original female character, I have decided for those reading to remove the reader's name. As such it’s now dark!Tony Stark x Reader and I figured it was about time I posted this chapter which was written months ago. Hope you all enjoy it.

Word count:- 2,490

Waking the next morning well rested, you started the day by emailing Sabrina the vague outline of your plan to escape Tony as well as how Sebastian might get involved should his infatuation prove stronger than you hoped. Titled Operation Goldfish, you figured it was a handy enough codename to quickly slip into a compromised conversation. Once satisfied, you then ordered breakfast before heading downstairs to rebook your room for five more days. Getting off the elevator and walking towards the reception desk, you took a sharp turn back to the seating area when you saw Tony walking through the front doors.

'Fuck.' you thought, 'what was his problem. Was his ego really so bruised, that he was determined to track you down?' Looking around, you quickly picked up a paper off the table and hid behind it, while you waited to see what happened next. Noting the time it was taking him to be dealt with, you instead seized the opportunity of his distraction to make it back to the elevators unseen, and quickly returned to your room.

Running through the suite, collecting all your belongings, you were just about to text Sabrina regarding the situation when you heard a beep and the sound of the door opening. Heart pounding and cursing that you didn't feel comfortable having Sabrina retrieve your weapons as well, you slowly walked towards the bedroom door to be greeted by the sight of Tony Stark standing in your suite.

"Well Darling, have you any idea all the bother you've caused me. Now I hope you're not planning on going anywhere after I gave clear instructions as to what was expected of you."

"How the fuck did you get in here and why are you doing this? Is your ego really that fragile?" you asked, while quickly trying to assess how you were going to get out of this.

No sooner were the words out of your mouth however, when you found his hand around your throat as your body hit the jam of the door. "You'll find being Tony Stark I can pretty much buy my way in anywhere. Now listen to me very carefully, the money you're using to hide from me was earned in my employ. That means Darling, that I own your pretty little ass."

Trying to hit him with one hand while using the other to pry his off your throat, he released you and you slumped to the floor, gasping for air as tears leaked from your eyes. Glaring at him, your temper flared and you couldn't hold your tongue. "So what, you think you're entitled to do whatever you want with anyone who works for you? That is seriously fucked up and illegal on so many levels."

"Oh no, Y/N, not anyone." he purred, helping you up while forcing you to look at him as his fingers caressed your chin. "Just you. There's something about the way you think you're too good for me, that makes me want to see you kneeling naked before me while choking on my cock."

Disgusted at his words and brimming with fear and anger, your knee came up to connect with his family jewels as you reached your hand around the wall and pulling a floor lamp towards you, brought it down on him. Though all this only stunned him, it gave you enough of an opening to hit him again, before reaching for your getaway bag and running from the room.

Not looking back to see if he was following you, you forgot the lift and started down the stairs as fast as you could. Reaching the street, you made it two blocks before you felt a sharp prick in your neck. Slowly slumping forward, you weren't conscious as iron arms wrapped around your chest and a booming voice told passersby that everything was under control. Taking you to an Avengers controlled facility because of the publicity surrounding your episode, the next phase of his plan was to extricate you from those determined to keep you from him.

*************

Having received the unexpected call from Tony Stark, it didn't take long for Sabrina to show up at the facility with Sebastian and two of his goons in tow. Being greeted by a kindly nurse, they were allowed to see you for a few minutes before being ushered into one of the unused offices where Tony sat waiting.

Closing the door behind him, Sebastian had to hold his wife back as she lunged at Tony. "What did you do to her, you sick fuck? I swear, if anything happens to her the full might of the New York Mob will tear you and your costumed freaks to ribbons."

"Firecracker, calm down. At least let the man explain." Sebastian coaxed, quickly glancing at Tony.

"Fine." she said, sitting in the nearest vacant chair while keeping her eyes fixed on Tony, as Sebastian took the seat next to her.

"Well it's good to see you have some control over your woman, but I wonder Mr. Stan, does she actually speak for you."

"Mr. Stark, please don't interpret my love for my wife as a sign of weakness. While she may not speak for me on Mob business, where Y/N is concerned we act as one."

"Fair enough. I was on my way back from a routine rescue when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted me to a pedestrian in distress. I reached her before she could hit the ground and only discovered it was Miss Y/L/N when I saw her face. I then brought her here and immediately called you, of course." he said, turning his gaze on Sabrina.

"And what exactly is wrong with her? The nurse Charlie wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information." Sebastian stated, reaching out to take his wife's hand.

"That I'm afraid is a question I don't yet have the answer to. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is running every conceivable test, but if nothing comes up, we may just have to accept it's something else and simply let it run its course."

"Something else? As in stress related?" Sabrina snapped, glaring daggers at him. "I wonder what could possibly have stressed her out that much?"

"Yes Mrs. Stan, I'll admit it, I didn't handle her rejection of me very well. But I've since gotten over it. Which is why I now intend to make sure she gets the best medical care my resources can provide."

"Mr. Stark," Sebastian interrupted.

"Tony, please." he stated, turning to face the mob boss once again.

"Tony. Given the issues these past couple of days have thrown up between you and Y/N, surely you can understand our concern. I don't think my wife and I are very comfortable with this arrangement."

"I totally understand your reservations, but as a Stark Industries employee she is also covered under the company's medical insurance, which means I can insist on the best possible treatment available anywhere. I will of course be more than happy to keep you updated on her condition. Now perhaps we can leave it there for today? I have your number."

"Sebastian, we can't just leave her here with this arrogant douchebag. This is exactly the opportunity he's been waiting for." Sabrina explained, locking eyes with her husband.

"Sabrina, sweetheart, his concern seems genuine and he should be made pay for her care. She'll be okay." Turning back to Tony, he looked him over once, before he spoke again, "Remember what my wife told you, Stark. In the meantime, I'll expect regular updates." he stressed, rising from the chair and taking his wife's hand to lead her from the room. Left alone with you incapitated down the hall, Tony couldn't hide the satisfaction he felt, knowing he finally had you in his grasp.

Suspecting that your friends didn't believe a word he said, Tony walked down the hall to your room where he couldn't help but gaze on your sleeping form. Though the sedative he'd hit you with should give him until tomorrow to get you moved to his secret location, part of him was disappointed that it had come to this. He had hoped when you left his office you would do as he asked, but it seemed you weren't as meek as you pretended to be. Still, he did love a challenge and he would enjoy breaking you.

Leaving you temporarily to deal with the paper trail and the nurse, he returned quickly and went about removing what medical equipment had been hooked up to lend some reality to the scene. Next, pulling back the sheets, he frowned at the hideous workout gear you still wore but couldn't help himself as his hand made its way up the inside of your thigh. Though he knew he wanted you awake for all he had planned, he told himself he simply wanted to see how effective the drug was at keeping you sedated.

Reaching your waist, he gently eased down your leggings before running his hand along your panty covered folds. Moving his hand up and down a few times, he brought his fingers to his mouth and coated them in his saliva before shoving your panties aside to feel your flesh against his hand. Slowly gliding up and down your folds, he moved up every now and then to circle your clit before he poked your entrance with a finger. Moving it gently in and out, he was surprised by the small amount of moisture this single digit was producing. Deciding to experiment further, he slipped in a second finger and was rewarded with a tightness that wasn't there the first time. Pumping his digits harder and faster into your pussy, he marveled at how well the drug was working, while still allowing your body to slick up his fingers.

Hearing movement out in the hall, he quickly removed his fingers, replaced your clothes and licked your juices off his digits before pulling the sheets back up. Bending down to softly kiss your lips, he pulled back before whispering "soon darling, you'll feel more than my fingers and you'll never be empty ever again." Then when a dead quiet once again fell over the place, he released his armor, eased you out the window and gently flew you to the secluded spot where his car was waiting. Placing you on the seat and securing your belt, he swept the hair back from your face before shedding his armor, getting behind the wheel and driving off to your new home.

*************

Pulling into the secluded, underground hideout, he thanked all the gods above that no one knew of its existence or its connection to him. Housing a garage, living quarters and state of the art lab, he knew it would be the perfect place to hide you until you finally accepted him. Taking you gently from the car and depositing you in your room, he still had things he needed to do before you woke up.

Removing your leggings and panties, he hurried to your bathroom to clean you up after his earlier exploration, before slipping into his room to retrieve a pair of boxers. Left to him, you wouldn't need clothes any time soon, but he figured after the hotel you might not take too kindly to waking up naked. As a compromise, the drug should afford him time to wash your lower garments and return them before you knew anything was amiss.

Heading to his room to shower, his mind wondered how you would react when you regained consciousness. Oh he could easily have tied you to the bed already and after the hotel maybe he should, but where was the fun in that? The contrast between the meek 'Mr. Stark' spouting you in his office and the fiery you that had evaded him and attacked him in the hotel suite excited him more than any woman had in years. He couldn't wait to see which you would open your eyes or what it would take to tip you in either direction.

So consumed was he by you that it took him awhile to realize his hand had strayed to his throbbing erection. Continuing to pump his hand up and down while thinking of your tight, warm and wet walls squeezing him like a vice, his mind wandered back to his fingers buried in your pussy and working himself harder he came with a groan, his cum coating his hand. Looking down at his release, he quickly washed up, exited the shower and changed his clothes before making a bite to eat.

Once fed, he headed back to check on you, to find you just as he left you. Though fairly certain about the timeframe of the sedative, he thought it best not to dally and headed off to his lab to set up a cover that would hopefully keep your mob friends off his back.

His first act was to wire money to associates in Europe to make it look like his private jet had landed with himself, you and the nurse Charlie aboard. Next was the setting up of a false trail that currently had you under the care of the best doctors in Denmark, no way he figured would your meddlesome friends travel there. Then he fished your phone out of your getaway bag, while marveling at the amount of cash you had stashed away. He knew he paid his employees well, but the ingenuity of someone your age to even think of something like this both amazed him and made him wonder why you did it in the first place. But that was a mystery which could wait.

Unlocking your phone, a pathetically simple task he noted, he quickly cloned the whole thing and then, placing it back with your cash and passport, hid the bag in the lab's secret safe. Once done with that, his next task involved combing through every voicemail you had in order to synthesize your speech pattern should he have a need for it at some point. He also contemplated freezing your accounts, but figured that might raise some red flags. When all that was done, he then redirected his business calls, thus making the whole thing look legitimate before instructing his A.I. V.I.R.G.I.L. to shut down most of the building.

Satisfied that his efforts were enough, he returned to your room with your freshly washed clothes and redressed you before settling on the couch to spend some time watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Knowing it would be a while before he got to see you this peaceful again, he savored every minute until his eyes started to close and so rising, he kissed your forehead before reluctantly returning to his own room. Laying down, he drifted off to sleep, wondering what the days ahead held in store.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @malloryharris , @ironlady1993 , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , sorry if I missed anyone.

#dark!tony stark x reader

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Forever

Summary: Logan knew it was just a matter of time before Remy left him. There was only so much one person could give before they needed something in return, and Remy was going to hit that breaking point sooner or later. Remy just wished Logan could see how much he was giving them. Content: Blind!Logan, insecurities/self-worth issues in relation to being blind, mentions of becoming blind, fear of being dumped, crying, hurt/comfort, happy ending, nb!Remy Pairing: Romantic losleep Notes: Written in @emo-disaster‘s blind logan au- I suggest you read their stuff before this, though technically this fic can stand alone. Also, I’m not blind, and my knowledge of living life blind is pretty limited, so!! if there are any inaccuracies in this fic please let me know and I’ll do my best to remedy them!

It had been months since what Remy had taken to calling ‘the accident.’ Logan had his own name for it, but Remy said it was too long and not good for his mental health, so Logan tried to avoid thinking of it as ‘the completely preventable accident that changed everything and stole away the stars’ and just referred to it by Remy’s name for it.

Logan was adjusting. He was learning how to use a cane to get around and getting fairly good at it. He had learned braille. He could move about his and Remy’s house independently. He could do a lot of things independently now.

That didn’t, however, make Logan independent, and he couldn’t help but be bothered by it.

At first, the only thing he was bothered by was how useless he felt. He hated how much he had to rely on Remy to do things that used to be mundane and commonplace. Remy was amazing, of course, and Logan couldn’t ask for anyone better to help him, but that comfort only helped so much.

Eventually, however, he got used to it. It was survival of the fittest, after all- he was in a new situation, he had to adapt. And if adapting was letting Remy help walk him around the house until he got better with his cane and memorizing floor layouts, then that was what Logan would do.

As soon as he had accepted that, however, a new problem ‘reared its ugly head’ in Logan realizing just how much of a burden he had become. Remy would never let Logan call himself that, Logan knew, but it couldn’t stop him from feeling like one.

Remy seemed to always be there when Logan needed them, whether to help him with something or even to just take a break and relax with him. Not to mention, Remy had quit their job for Logan- they said that they could freelance program just as well, that they preferred the new flexibility in their life because of it anyways, but Logan knew that was just a cover. Without a stable job, Remy had no benefits, no insurance or medical plans, no promise of a paycheck. Until Logan found a job- a new one; the accident may have been the byproduct of his own foolish past times, but that didn’t mean he felt chemist was really the job for him anymore- Remy was the sole provider for the both of them, working a job with no guarantees just so they’d be there if Logan needed them.

And Logan… well, he was getting better at not knocking things over when he tried to perform basic tasks.

Suffice to say, he felt pretty useless. Useless and… confused. Remy was doing so much work, all of it for Logan’s sake, but they were just… boyfriends. Dating. Not married, not engaged, not bound together by any real promise or law. It had to be easier, Logan thought, to just dump him so that they could move on with their life.

He had decided, after a bit of thinking, that Remy was just waiting for a good time to dump him. Dumping someone right after they lost their eyesight would be rude, and even if they weren’t going to keep dating, Logan was sure he and Remy would still be friends. Remy probably just wanted to help Logan adjust to his new life before informing him that there was no way they were going to work now. And while Logan did appreciate the sentiment, waiting for that day to come, for the figurative other shoe to drop, was becoming a tense activity.

Because as logical as he knew the action would be, for Remy to dump him and move on, therefore allowing them to continue to live their life unburdened of Logan, Logan still feared the day it would come. He loved Remy, after all, and even if the break-up would be better for them, Logan knew he would miss them, miss cuddling with them and sassing with them and hearing them call him ‘starshine’ and the smell of coffee that always hung about them.

But it would be better for them. So as much as Logan hated the thought of it, he knew it had to happen. And he knew he would be alright, eventually, as long as he could remember that, even if Remy wasn’t his anymore, they’d be happier.

Which is how he had ended up here. He was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, his feet lifted up and balancing on top of the base rungs of it to avoid putting his feet down into milk or ceramic. It had been an accident, of course. He hadn’t meant to accidentally hit the side of his mug of milk too hard when he was trying to pick it back up, he hadn’t meant to forget just where it was on the counter in the first place. But he had, and it had fallen and broken, and Remy had still shown up and refused to let Logan try and clean it up, and it was still all his fault that Remy was busy cleaning the floor of Logan’s mistake instead of working.

Of course, Logan was getting better about this. Mistakes like this one didn’t happen often. But they still happened. And it was still always Remy fixing them.

“Why are we still together?” Logan asked, regretting it as soon as the words made it out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Just because he knew Remy was going to break up with him didn’t mean he wanted to make it happen any sooner. But words said couldn’t be taken back, and Logan knew both he and Remy had been thinking them much too long anyways. Might as well put it out in the open.

Logan didn’t have to see Remy to know they had stopped cleaning, to know they were looking at Logan now, to know they were tilting their head and furrowing their brow. “What?” They said, voice quiet and confused.

Logan tugged on his fingers, not bothering to hide the nervous action. “Why are we still together?” He repeated, because surely Remy must’ve missed the question, because this was really the perfect moment to end it, to end them, and if they knew what Logan had said they would’ve already taken their chance-

Logan’s hands were suddenly in Remy’s, his boyfriend apparently now in front of him. Their grip was gentle but firm, and for a brief moment Logan wished they were holding him instead so that he could melt into that grip. “Because I love you.” Remy said, simply, as if that was all there was to it, as if that was an answer and an explanation all wrapped up in one.

“So?” Logan asked, hating himself more even as he did. He loved Remy too, so much, and they didn’t deserve to have their love met with ‘so.’ But Remy could love again, could love someone better, love someone who didn’t need to constantly be cared for. “You can love someone else.”

“I don’t want to love someone else, darling.” Remy responded, pain and worry now colouring their words. “I’m happy just as I am, right here, loving you.”

Logan shook his head. “No you aren’t.” He said miserably.

Thumbs rubbed over the back of Logan’s hands, the gesture likely meant to be reassuring. “What makes you say that?”

“You can’t be happy like this. Helping me with… helping me with everything. Paying for everything. Doing everything.” Logan told them, squeezing Remy’s hands in lieu of being able to squeeze his own. “And you can’t… you can’t love a burden.”

Remy squeezed Logan’s hands back, and Logan could tell from the grip it wasn’t just reassurance, wasn’t just a reminder that Remy was there. It was a reaction of surprise; probably surprise that Logan had called them out so easily. It was kind of them to say they were happy and all, but… Logan would rather they be actually happy than they try to be happy in a place where they couldn’t be.

But then Remy spoke, tone urgent and tight as if they needed Logan to hear whatever they had to say. “You’re wrong, beloved. Completely wrong.”

“Remy-”

“You’re not a burden. Gods, Lo, you could never be a burden to me.” Remy said fiercely, one hand releasing Logan’s and resting on his cheek instead. “I love you. I’m happy with you.”

“For how long?” Logan asked, his voice breaking as he spoke. Everything about Remy’s voice and words screamed real, but even if Remy still loved him now, Logan knew it couldn’t last.

“I- Forever. Logan, I’m going to love you forever.” Remy replied, both of their hands now on Logan’s cheeks.

Logan reached up, hands finding Remy’s wrists and holding onto them. He wasn’t sure if his eyes had been open before then or not, but they were squeezed shut now as he forced his tears not to fall. “It can’t last. You’ve already given up so much for me… you can’t keep giving forever. You’ll tire of it and then you’ll tire of me and you won’t love me anymore, no matter what you say.”

For a moment, there was silence. Logan wished he could see Remy’s face, see what they were thinking, what they were feeling, but it was the reason why he couldn’t that had gotten them there in the first place.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” Remy said. It wasn’t a question.

Logan nodded and the grip on his cheeks increased, even though it was still gentle. He let out a small sigh. He was going to miss this.

“I love you, starshine, and that’s not changing anytime soon.” Remy reiterated, voice soft. They pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, one just as gentle as their tone. “I just finished a project. Do you want to cuddle and listen to Big Hero 6?”

They’re avoiding the subject. Logan thought, his metaphorical heart falling. That meant… Remy knew what he was saying was true. They knew that, one of these days, it was all going to fall apart. Logan took it as a small win that they were distressed enough by the thought they were avoiding it, however. That meant that, for however long it would last, Remy did love him. Logan could work with that. He could cherish that.

“Don’t you have to finish picking up my mug?” Logan asked. He hated to bring it up, a reminder of just another reason why they weren’t going to work out, but a slippery floor with ceramic shards was more of a hazard than it had ever been for him before. It was for the best that it was cleaned completely.

“It’s already taken care of, hun, don’t worry.” Remy told him, moving their hands from Logan’s cheeks to hold his hands instead, helping him to his feet. They let go of one of Logan’s hands, clearly intending to let him lead the way to their bedroom, but Logan stepped closer to them and pressed himself into their side. He wasn’t sure how many more of these moments he’d be able to get, and he wanted to make the most of every one.

Without hesitation, Remy slipped an arm around Logan’s shoulders, holding him close. They still held one of his hands as well, starting off towards the bedroom at a pace that was steady and consistent, making it easy for Logan to match their stride.

They broke apart when they reached their bedroom, Logan moving to settle on the bed while Remy (presumably) saved out of their work and closed their laptop. Barely a minute passed before Remy was back, pulling Logan down so that his head was resting in their lap, already starting to play with Logan’s hair as they turned on the movie. Logan tried to focus on the niceness of the moment and not how much he’d miss it.

Because he would miss it, would miss the light scrape of Remy’s nails against Logan’s scalp as they convince him to relax, would miss Remy’s warmth as they held him close to them, would miss the sound of Remy lightly humming until the movie started and sometimes even when it was playing. He would miss Remy.

But while he was missing Remy, Remy would be free and happy. And if the choice was happiness without Logan or Logan without happiness, well…

If you love something, let it go.

“Remy, why are we here?”

“You’ll see babe, you’ll see. Er. You’ll understand.”

Logan ignored Remy’s slip of tongue. It was just an expression, and Logan had far more important things to worry about than phrasing that was technically inaccurate.

For example, why he and Remy were at the beach.

Remy had, of course, told Logan where they were going before they left, but Logan could’ve guessed where they were even if they hadn’t. He could hear waves lapping on the shore, and the smell of saltwater was still very recognizable. None of that answered why they were at the beach, but Logan figured it was nice to at least know where he was.

Remy bumped their arm against Logan’s, allowing him to take it if he so pleased, and Logan accepted the offer of help gratefully. He felt secure enough in his skills with a cane to get around by himself, but he hadn’t exactly attempted to navigate a beach yet.

Still providing no explanations, Remy began to move forward, their grip on Logan’s hand gentle but firm as they walked. Though Logan was careful to not go too fast, he found the sand to be less of a challenge to traverse than he thought. He still didn’t let go of Remy’s hand, however.

Logan stopped when Remy did, guessing from the sound and smell that they were now standing right on the shore. He poked his guide stick forward, suspicion confirmed by the small splash noise that was made when his stick hit ground again.

“Do you mind taking your shoes off, love?” Remy asked after a moment of them just standing there in silence, both enjoying the moment in their own way. On old instinct, Logan turned towards Remy, hoping his confusion showed on his face. It must have, because Remy chuckled before adding, “I’ll explain in a minute, I promise.”

Though he was confused, Logan did as Remy asked, using their arm to support himself as he tugged off his shoes. Having not put on socks (also at Remy’s request), Logan tried not to shudder at the texture of sand directly against his feet. It wasn’t a bad texture, just an odd one. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt it.

Logan dropped his shoes next to him. “Now what?” He asked, curious as to where all of this was going to.

He wasn’t expecting Remy to squeeze his hand and ask him, surprisingly seriously, “Can you feel the sand beneath your feet?”

“Can I-” Logan shook his head, more puzzled than he had been a moment ago. “Of course I can, Remy. My eyes are damaged, not my nervous system.”

“I know, babe, don’t worry. Just asking.” Remy said, which cleared nothing up for Logan. Remy tugged just a little bit on Logan’s arm, prompting him forward. “Step forward with me?”

Logan did so, only shivering a little as he stepped into the cold water. Despite the chill, the feel of the water around his feet and lapping at his ankles was nice.

“Can you feel the water?” Remy asked, once more prompting Logan to turn towards them, as if facing them would help Logan read them.

“Yes, I can.” Logan answered, still confused, now waiting for Remy to provide him with an explanation.

A breeze blew by. “Can you feel the wind in your hair?” Remy asked as it happened. Logan nodded. “Can you feel the sun on your skin?” Logan nodded again, the feeling of sun-warmed skin plenty familiar.

Remy tightened their grip on Logan’s hand. “Can you feel my touch?” They asked, their voice sounding slightly wrong, half a pitch too high.

Logan squeezed their hand back. “Of course I can, Andromeda.” Logan told them, the old but beloved petname rolling off his tongue before he could stop it. He had been trying to use less of them recently, to make the inevitable transition from dating to being single easier, but something about Remy seemed to be off, and it would always be Logan’s first reaction to try and help Remy when something was wrong.

Remy let out a small laugh at the petname, but Logan knew the reaction was a fond one, and he didn’t need to see Remy to know they were smiling now, a small but sappy expression that Logan intended to never forget.

There was a rustling noise as Remy moved, and a moment later their free hand was gently getting Logan to let go of his guide stick, leaving it to hang off his wrist instead. Hand now empty, Remy left his hand so that it was open and palm-up before pressing something into it and curling Logan’s fingers around it.

“Can you feel that?” Remy asked, their voice still a little off but almost in a good way, as if they were borderline giddy or trying not to be excited. Intrigued, Logan pressed his fingers even closer around the small object, trying to discern what it was.

It didn’t take long for Logan to figure out what it felt like it was. Circular, metallic but not heavy, no center. It felt like it was a ring. But it couldn’t be a ring- there was only one reason Logan could think of that Remy would be giving him a ring, and that wasn’t- that was never going to happen, so it couldn’t be a ring.

Further investigation of the object seemed to only be providing evidence to it being a ring, however. The hole in the object seemed to be just big enough to fit snugly on his ring finger. There were three slightly uneven bumps embedded in the metal, the middle one a little bigger than the others, just like inset gemstones. Raised points on the opposite side of the possible gemstones felt like braille, and after a moment Logan was able to make out the word they stood for- ‘forever.’

“The braille’s new.” Remy said softly as Logan ran his finger back over the dots again, trying to see if it was a different word, but only coming up with forever, forever, forever. “The ring’s not.”

“I…” Logan didn’t know what to say. The ring being old probably meant that Remy had gotten it before the accident- which was another thing he was going to have to contemplate soon- but adding the braille meant after the accident, meant after Logan went blind and after quitting their job and after having to do so much to help Logan, meant after all of that and still waiting to give Logan the ring. It meant… it meant more things than Logan felt he could process right then, maybe ever.

“I’m not asking you to marry me.” Remy said, which made Logan’s heart ache even though he knew there must be more to the explanation, even though most of him knew Remy wouldn’t want to marry him anyways; not now. “I don’t know if you’re ready for that, or if you want that. That’s not my call to make, and that’s not my decision to force on you. But that’s not the point.

“I love you, Logan. I loved you before the accident, I loved you after the accident, and I still love you now. That hasn’t changed.” Remy stopped for a moment, their free hand coming to rest on Logan’s cheek, catching the one tear that had begun to slip down Logan’s cheek and wipe it away. “Last week… you kept talking about being a burden, about how I would get tired of helping you and then I’d get tired of you. You said I was giving everything without getting anything. I told you you were wrong, but I could tell you didn’t believe me.”

Logan didn’t respond to that. Remy was right; he hadn’t believed them. Maybe he believed that Remy still loved him in the moment, but he wasn’t a fool. No moment lasts forever, and a relationship built on one person always giving and the other always taking was a doomed relationship.

“So that’s why I’m telling you again. You’re wrong, babe, so completely horribly wrong it really puts a shame to that big brain of yours.” Remy went on, tone both teasing and adoring, catching Logan off-guard. “You’re not a burden. I don’t think it’s possible for me to tire of you, much less leave you. And to say I’m giving without getting is a little rude to the love of my life, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped thinking like that.”

“...What are you saying?” Logan asked, slowly, fingers still pressing the ring into his hand hard enough to indent his palm, well aware another tear was slipping down his face even in his confusion.

“I’m saying that you give me so, so much, sweetheart.” Remy answered, sounding the slightest bit choked up, and Logan had the feeling if he touched their face he’d find tear tracks running down their cheeks. “You give me cuddles when I try to get out of bed before you and you indulge me when I do the same to you. You let me hold your hand even though I’m perfectly capable of just following you because I want to hold your hand. You rant about space and stars and planets to me when even slightly prompted. You accept my snark with a smile you pretend isn’t fond and you offer me a completely and unabashedly fond smile when I’m just playing with your hair. You give me your love,” Remy’s voice cracked there, but Logan had the feeling that wasn’t a bad thing, “and that is worth so, so much more to me than I think you know.”

Logan was properly crying now, tears falling down both his cheeks and making a mess of his face. Remy didn’t seem to mind as they pressed their forehead against Logan’s, pulling him close.

“It would be my greatest honor, pleasure, and joy to spend the rest of my life with you, to the point I’m more than willing to have it stamped out on some government paper.” Remy said, voice quieter but still filled with only love. “And if you wanted, I would marry you right now, or tomorrow, or in a week, or in a month, or in a year, or in a decade, or never. I would marry you if you were blind, deaf, and mute. I would marry you anywhere, anytime, anyway, because I love you, so damn much, and nothing is going to change that, much less the fact that you’re blind.”

“I love you.” Logan said, suddenly, his grip on Remy’s hand tightening almost too much. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Remy vowed in a breath. “That’s the whole point of this.” Their hand left Logan’s cheek, moving down to hold Logan’s hand, interlocking their fingers and trapping the ring between both of their palms. “I wanted you to be able to feel my love.” And then, softly, so softly spoken Logan almost missed it, “Can you feel my love?”

It was, objectively, a ridiculous question. One can’t feel love- it’s an abstract concept, something you can know exists in words and actions but can’t feel all by itself.

And yet, Logan knew without a doubt that the answer to Remy’s question was a firm yes. He could feel Remy’s love, logic be damned. He could feel it in every word Remy had just said. He could feel it in the warmth of Remy’s hands in his, to keep him steady in more ways than one. He could feel it in the new braille raised on old metal.

He could feel it because he knew it was there.

It only took one stumbled step forwards before Logan was against Remy’s chest, the ring once more firmly held in his hand alone as Remy’s arms wrapped around him and held him close, close enough Logan could feel Remy’s heart beat against their chest. He held onto Remy as best he could, pressing his face into Remy’s shoulder and crying, no longer in fear of an approaching end but in the overwhelming joy of a beautiful future.

“I’ll marry you.” He said a minute or two after he had finished crying, when it was just him and Remy, holding each other silently.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Logan responded, aware that he should wait, aware that he should step back from the situation and not make any decisions like this until he had calmed down from new realization that Remy wasn’t going to leave him, to make sure he wasn’t just trying to figuratively snatch Remy up before they could change their mind and get away from him. But he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to marry Remy and he wanted Remy to know he wanted to marry them and he wanted Remy to know that now.

Remy chuckled as they pressed a kiss against the top of Logan’s head, and Logan liked to believe he could feel Remy smiling as they did so. “Then you’ll marry me.” They promised before gently pulling away from Logan, one arm still wrapped around his waist as they took the hand Logan was holding the ring in. They pulled slightly at his fingers and Logan opened his hand, allowing Remy to pick up the ring before they turned his hand over, holding the palm of it while allowing the fingers to stretch out.

“May I?” They asked, the quiet request causing Logan to blush for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.

“Please do.” He responded, also quiet, his words laced with longing as well. Slowly, as if they wanted to savor the moment, Remy slipped the ring onto Logan’s finger. Logan wiggled his fingers, happy when the ring didn’t move. It fit perfectly.

“And now, we’re engaged.” Remy said, raising Logan’s hand so that they could kiss the back of it, causing Logan’s blush to deepen as he smiled. He leaned forwards a bit, happy when Remy met his lips a second later with their own.

The kiss wasn’t long- neither Logan nor Remy cared much for making-out or lip kissing in general- but it didn’t need to be. They already knew the importance of the moment, the beauty of each other, the love they shared that some might have called too much but they would’ve called not enough. The kiss was just a symbol of that. It didn’t have to be long, it just had to be theirs.

Logan pulled away after a few seconds, once more resting his head on Remy’s shoulder, this time not to cry but just to be close to them. He held his hands close to his chest, running his finger over the braille on his ring over and over and over, the repeated motion and word a continuous reminder of all that had just happened and all that would happen.

Gentle fingers worked their way into his hair, Remy settling their head on top of Logan’s as they played with his hair. “Do you want to go home and celebrate with cuddles?” Remy asked, their tone soft and fond and sweet in ways Logan wasn’t sure he had heard before but wanted to hear forever.

“Soon.” Logan answered. “I want to stay here a little longer.”

“Anything for you, starshine.” Remy replied, kissing Logan’s head again. Logan smiled into their neck, relaxing against them even more.

Though Logan could still feel the sand beneath his feet, the water around his ankles, the wind in his hair, and the sun on his skin, he wasn’t focused on them. His attention was held entirely by Remy holding him, by Remy’s hand combing through his hair, by Remy’s chest steadily moving up and down in time with their breaths, and by the braille on his ring. His attention was held by warmth and comfort and Remy. His attention was held by love. And his love’s attention was held by him.

And despite what challenges they might face, despite Logan’s worries and fears, despite everything that might stand in their way, that wasn’t going to change. They were going to be together. They were going to be in love. They were going to be happy.

And they were going to be like that forever.

#losleep #ts logan #ts sleep #ts remy #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blind logan au #blind!logan #nb!remy

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scroll-of-thought · 2 years

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I've been having so much bad luck. I've lost all my income. It's now zero income. My hair is falling out in handfuls. I'm starting to breakout on my face. I have lost everythin n everyone. I don't have any friends here. Ive always kept to myself. It was just me my kids n my life partner. He just left us like we don't exsist From one day to the next. He loves his new girl. She is clearly with other men in front of him n he goes running after her like a lost dog. What is happening?

Hey Anon, I'm sorry to hear you've gone through so much.

I'm guessing since you came to a witch, you suspect there might be some kind of magical, supernatural, or paranormal reasoning for this sudden turn in your life. And I've got advice for that, but I think I should mention some mundane advice first.

Sudden break outs and hair loss can be caused by all kinds of things, including stress, which it sounds like you've got in abundance. But sudden hair loss can also be a sign of other serious medical issues. If you have the ability to see a doctor, I'd do so. Especially if you're on his insurance. It's also possible that you might still be covered with your previous job's insurance, depending on where you live and your plan. Some plans are forced to cover you for a full length of time, even if you lose your job. So I'd definitely try to get that figured out ASAP.

Now, on to the witchcraft advice. I'd assume that if this is paranormal, it's either a curse or a negative spirit preying on you. Both can be solved in the same way.

Firstly, cleanse yourself. If you search my blog for "cleansing" you'll find a bunch of ways to cleanse yourself, ranging from a ritual bath or shower, to asking your deity to help cleanse you. Do whatever feels best for you and will work in your current living situation. As someone who's had nothing, including running water for a time, I know how hard it can be to take a simple shower, let alone a ritual one.

The whole point of cleansing yourself is to drive anything that might be attached to you away from you. It'll disconnect and either go away entirely, or it'll wait in the surrounding area until it's safe to reattach, which is what we solve next.

Next, cleanse your space. You can find info on this under the same tag, and there's a ton of ways to do this too. Smoke cleansing is the most popular. People burn various plants or incense, and incense is cheap, but I personally use oak leaves and twigs. I pick them up while walking the dog in the fall. They might be a little hard to find this late into winter, but you might get lucky. Otherwise, even walmart carries incense sticks, and some dollar stores do.

If smoke isn't an option, sound is another popular option. Anything from a bell to banging pots and pans can work. Ritual cleaning of a space is also very effective. Wipe down the walls, sweep the floors, picture the negative force being pushed out with the old. Sweep it right out your door way, or into a trash and immediately take the trash out.

Now that the negative force is no longer attached to you and no longer waiting in your house, you need to keep it that way. You're going to need a protective charm for yourself and your loved ones. If you're religious, a prayer to your deity, written on a paper slip is a good option, as well as maybe praying personally for their protection. If you're not religious you can do something similar by making a protection sigil, a protective spell, or any number of other protective charms. Again, you can search for protection and sigil if you have any questions on those things, I try to tag stuff well. Keep these protective charms on you, or in something that represents you.

Lastly, wards and barriers. This is locking the door some the thing can't return and linger around your home. Search for "Ward", I've got a lot of stuff and a bunch of reblogs to resources on this too. Layers of wards are important, meaning do more than one, just in case one fails or isn't particularly effective against one thing, as it is another. Personally, I place decoys like witch's bottles near my home, more decoys in my home, I "paint" protective sigils on my walls and doors in water (water evaporates when it dries, but the spell stays), I've got enchanted doorway thresholds, piles of protective charms scattered around the house, and much much more.

That's more or less a crash course in the steps I'd take to remove anything that might be actively causing problems with you, and prevent them from coming back.

Next, look up spells for bringing good luck, financial stability, all the things you're lacking. I don't really deal in those kinds of spells, but there's a lot of others out there who are really knowledgeable on those topics.

Hopefully that helps turn things around for you. I know things a pretty rough right now, even without the problems you're going through. Just hang in there, it's got to get better if you just keep fighting.

If there's anything else I can help you with, feel free to ask. I try to reply to these whenever I have the time to check my messages.

#anon #ask #witchcraft #ward #cleansing

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halfbisexual · 3 years

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Men Cause 100% of Unwanted Pregnancies

Our conversation about abortion places the burden of responsibility on women. I argue men are the root cause.

Gabrielle Blair

Sep 24, 2018·

As a mother of six and a Mormon, I have a good understanding of arguments surrounding abortion, religious and otherwise. When I hear men discussing women’s reproductive rights, I’m often left with the thought that they have zero interest in stopping abortion.

If you want to prevent abortion, you need to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Men seem unable (or unwilling) to admit that they cause 100% of them.

I realize that’s a bold statement. You’re likely thinking, “Wait. It takes two to tango!” While I fully agree with you in the case of intentional pregnancies, I argue that all unwanted pregnancies are caused by the irresponsible ejaculations of men. All of them.

Don’t believe me?

Let’s start with this: A woman’s egg is only fertile for about two days each month. Yes, there are exceptions, because nature. But one egg which is fertile two days each month is the baseline. And those fertile eggs are produced for a limited number of years. This means, on average, women are fertile for about 24 days per year.

But men are fertile 365 days a year. In fact, if you’re a man who ejaculates multiple times a day, you could cause multiple pregnancies daily. In theory, a man could cause 1000+ unwanted pregnancies in just one year. While it’s true that sperm gets crappier as men age, it doesn’t have a fertility expiration date; men can cause unwanted pregnancies from puberty until death. So, starting with basic fertility stats and the calendar, it’s easy to see that men are the issue here.

As a society, we really don’t mind if women suffer, physically or mentally, as long as it makes things easier for men.

“But what about birth control?” you might ask. “ If a woman can manage to figure out how to get an abortion, surely she can use birth control to avoid unwanted pregnancy, right?”

Great question. Modern birth control for women is possibly the most important invention of the last century, and I’m very grateful for it. It’s also brutal. The side effects for many women include migraines, mood swings, decreased libido, depression, severe cramps, heavy bleeding, aneurysm — and that’s just a small fraction of them.

Discouragingly, a promising study on a new male contraceptive was canceled in large part due to… (wait for it)… side effects. To be clear, this list of side effects was about one-third as long as the known side effects for commonly used women’s contraception. There’s a lot to unpack in that story alone. I’ll simply point out that, as a society, we really don’t mind if women suffer, physically or mentally, as long as it makes things easier for men.

But, men, I’ve got good news. Even with the horrible side effects, women are (amazingly!) very willing to use birth control. Unfortunately, it’s harder to get than it should be, but that doesn’t keep women from trying. Birth control options for women require a doctor’s appointment — sometimes multiple doctor’s appointments — and a prescription. They’re not always free, and often not cheap. Some are actually trying to make female birth control options more expensive by allowing insurance companies to refuse to cover them. In addition, contraceptive options for women can’t be easily acquired at the last minute. In most cases, they don’t work instantly.

The pill requires consistent daily use and doesn’t leave much room for mistakes, forgetfulness, or unexpected disruptions to daily schedules. Again, the side effects can be brutal — and not just in rare cases. Despite the hassle and side effects, I’m still grateful for birth control. (Please don’t take it away.) But it’s critical to understand that women’s birth control isn’t simple or easy.

In contrast, let’s look at birth control for men — i.e., condoms. They’re readily available at all hours, inexpensive, convenient, and don’t require a prescription. They’re effective and work on demand, instantly. They don’t cause aneurysms, mood swings, or debilitating cramps. Men can keep them stocked up just in case, so they’re always prepared. They can be easily used at the last minute. I mean, condoms are magic! So much easier than birth control options for women.

As a bonus, most women are totally on board with condoms. They keep us from getting STDs. They don’t lessen our pleasure during sex or prevent us from climaxing. The best part? Cleanup is so much easier — no waddling to the toilet as jizz drips down our legs.

So why would there ever be unwanted pregnancies? Why don’t men just use condoms every time they have sex? Seems so simple, right?

Oh. I remember. Men don’t love condoms. In fact, it’s very, very common for men to pressure women to have sex without a condom. It’s also not unheard of for men to remove the condom during sex without the women’s permission or knowledge. (Pro tip: That’s assault.)

Why would men want to have sex without a condom? Because, for the precious minutes when they’re penetrating their partner, not wearing a condom gives them more pleasure. So… that would mean some men are willing to risk getting a woman pregnant — which means literally risking her life, her health, her social status, her relationships, and her career — so they can experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure. Is this for real?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Pregnancies happen when men have an orgasm. Unwanted pregnancies happen when men orgasm irresponsibly.

Imagine a pleasure scale, with pain beginning at zero and going down into the negatives. A good back-scratch falls at 5, and an orgasm without a condom is a 10. Where would sex with a condom fall? A 7 or 8? So, it’s not that sex with a condom is not pleasurable, it’s just not as pleasurable. An 8 instead of a 10.

Let me emphasize that again: Men regularly choose to put women at massive risk in order to experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure.

For the truly condom-averse, men also have a non-condom, always-ready birth control option built right in: the pull-out. It doesn’t protect against STDs, it’s an easy joke, and it’s far from perfect. However, it’s 96% effective if done correctly, and 78% effective in practice (because it’s often not done correctly).

Still, many men who resist wearing condoms never learn how to pull out correctly. Apparently, it’s slightly more pleasurable to climax inside a vagina than, say, on their partner’s stomach. Once again, men are willing to risk the life, health, and well-being of women in order to experience a tiny bit more pleasure for roughly five seconds during orgasm.

Think of the choice men are making here. Honestly, I’m not as mad as I should be about this, because we’ve trained men from birth to disassociate sex and pregnancy. We’ve taught them that their pleasure is of utmost importance.

As a general rule, men get women pregnant by having an orgasm. Yes, there are exceptions — it’s possible for sperm to show up in pre-ejaculate — but in most cases, getting a woman pregnant is a pleasurable act for men. But men can get a woman pregnant without her feeling any pleasure at all. It’s even possible for a man to impregnate a woman while causing her excruciating pain, trauma, or horror.

In contrast, a woman can have nonstop orgasms with or without a partner and never once get herself pregnant. A woman’s orgasm has literally nothing to do with pregnancy or fertility — her clitoris exists simply for pleasure, not for creating new humans. No matter how many orgasms she has, they won’t make her pregnant.

Pregnancies happen when men have an orgasm. Unwanted pregnancies happen when men orgasm irresponsibly.

A woman can be the sluttiest slut in the entire world, she can love having orgasms all day and all night long, and she will never find herself with an unwanted pregnancy unless a man shows up and ejaculates irresponsibly. Though our society tends to villainize female pleasure, women’s enjoyment of sex does not equal unwanted pregnancy and abortion. Men’s enjoyment of sex and irresponsible ejaculations do.

Let’s move to the topic of responsibility. Often, men don’t know, don’t ask, and don’t think to ask if they’ve caused a pregnancy. There are often zero consequences for men who cause unwanted pregnancies.

If the woman decides to have an abortion, the man may never even know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation. If the woman decides to have the baby, or put the baby up for adoption, the man may never know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation either. He may never know there’s now a child walking around with 50% of his DNA.

If the woman does tell him he caused an unwanted pregnancy and that she’s having the baby, the closest thing to a consequence for him is child support. Our current child support system is a well-known joke. Only about 61 percent of required payments by men are actually made, and there are little to no repercussions for skipping out. In some states, failing to pay child support doesn’t even affect your credit.

If a man does pay child support, it doesn’t come close to what is required by a woman in the case of an unwanted pregnancy.

Let’s talk about abortion. When the topic comes up, men might think: Abortion is horrible; women should not have abortions. Never once do they consider the man who caused the unwanted pregnancy.

If you actually care about reducing or eliminating the number of abortions in our country, simply hold men accountable for their actions.

If we’re discussing abortion law — and not how to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and the unwanted pregnancies caused by them — we’re wasting our time. Shift the conversation. Stop protesting at clinics. Stop shaming women. Stop debating whether or not to overturn abortion laws. If you actually care about reducing or eliminating the number of abortions in our country, simply hold men accountable for their actions.

What would that look like? A real and immediate consequence for men who cause an unwanted pregnancy. What kind of consequence would make sense? Should it be as harsh, painful, nauseating, scarring, expensive, risky, and life-altering…

… as forcing a woman to go through a nine-month unwanted pregnancy?

If you consider abortion to be murder, consider this thought experiment: Would you be on board with having a handful of men castrated to prevent 600,000 murders each year? If this argument sounds too provocative, could it be that many of us have a hard time wrapping our heads around a physical punishment for men? We seem to be more than fine with physical punishments for women. Perhaps we care more about policing women’s bodies, morality, and sexuality than we do about reducing or eliminating abortions.

Here’s another prevention idea: All males in the U.S. could get a vasectomy when they are ready to be sexually active. Vasectomies are very safe, highly reversible, and about as invasive as a woman getting an IUD implanted. In most cases, there’s some soreness afterwards for about 24 hours, but that’s pretty much it for side effects. (Take a moment to remember that female contraception options, used by millions of women in our country and billions across the world, have well-known side effects which can be brutal and severe — and yes, also include soreness.) If and when a man becomes a responsible adult, finds a mate, and wants to have a baby, the vasectomy can be reversed and then redone once the childbearing stage is over. Each man can bank their sperm before the vasectomy, just in case.

Don’t like my ideas? That’s fine. I’m sure there are better ideas, and I challenge you to suggest your own. My point is we need to stop focusing on women if we’re trying to get rid of abortions. Think of abortion as the “cure” for an unwanted pregnancy. To stop abortions, we need to prevent the “disease” — meaning, the unwanted pregnancy itself. And the only way to do that is by focusing on men, because irresponsible ejaculations by men cause 100% of unwanted pregnancy.

Ask yourselves: What would it take for you to value the life of your sexual partner more than your own temporary pleasure or convenience?

If you’re a man, what would it take for you to never again ejaculate irresponsibly? A loss of money, rights, or freedoms? Physical pain? Ask yourselves: What would it take for you to value the life of your sexual partner more than your own temporary pleasure or convenience?

Men mostly run our government, and men mostly make our laws. In theory, men could eliminate — or drastically reduce — abortions within months without ever touching an abortion law or even mentioning women. They’d simply need to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and legislate accordingly.

To reduce or eliminate abortions, stop attempting to control women’s bodies and sexuality. Because unwanted pregnancies are caused by men.

#abortion #pregnant #pregnancy

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Weak ~ S.R. (part 2)

A/n: A good song for this part is “Grow As We Go” by Ben Platt. Even though I wrote this inspired by “Weak” by AJR, I feel this song works a lot better :) Side note: for some reason I changed POV halfway through but for only one part? And I didn’t want to miss something so I just left it. Just... ignore that lol.

Word Count: 7000+

MASTERLIST

They call me after dark, I don't want no part. My habits, they hold me like a grudge- I promise I won't budge.

"Hey JJ," Y/n greeted as she braced herself in front of the office she now stood in front of.

"Hey." JJ's voice had become quite familiar in their time talking. Prentiss had also given her number, but they didn't talk as much. JJ, Y/n and Penelope had a group chat though and the three of them talked loads. "I heard you start your new job today. You excited?"

Y/n tried not to think about it. The first time she'd walked into the police station she usually worked at she'd had a panic attack, and even when it had gotten better she still couldn't find comfort there anymore. Everyone understood and they'd given her basically worker's comp as she searched for a new job. They'd even helped her out. But it hadn't worked and she couldn't find any other real work there, so she was back in DC. The place wasn't tainted anymore, but Y/n did miss the small town feel. The real problem was that Y/n hadn't told anyone that she had moved back. She'd just told them she'd gotten a job at the diner.

"Very," Y/n lied. "I have to start in a few minutes actually. Mind if I call you tonight?"

"Oh of course," JJ assured. "I thought you started later."

Y/n chuckled. The woman had become a sort of comfort for her. "I appreciate the check up call," she said. "I'll tell you how it went later." JJ agreed and they ended the call and Y/n walked inside. It was as far from Y/n's dream as she could get. Well, maybe now as far from, but it was just a printing store. You came here to get your pictures printed from a camera, or you faxed them and they printed here. Posters. Invitations. Anything. Y/n wore a polo shirt and khakis. She was going nothing great for this world, but at least she could pay rent.

The day was long and boring. Y/n was glad to be home, but not excited to call JJ about it. She hated lying and this one might require her to do it. She could just tell JJ she was back in town and working literally BLOCKS from everyone else but... then they might ask to hang out and that would bring her around to see Spencer again and that was what she REALLY wanted but also what she even more needed not to happen.

"Hey Y/n!" JJ greeted. "I'm so glad to hear from you."

"Just get off of work?" Y/n asked.

"Just gave Hotch a new case," JJ corrected, sighing. "It's going to be a rough one." She paused. "I kind of wish you were here. We could get coffee while they get ready." She chuckled.

It kind of came out when she said that. "I actually am." A long pause. "I- I couldn't find a job. I lived here before I moved away, so I moved back. Uh. I could meet you somewhere?"

"Sure," JJ said slowly, processing what Y/n had just said.

Y/n planted her face in her hand. "I'll explain over coffee, okay?" JJ agreed and they hung up. Y/n headed out, meeting her at the nearest coffee shop they'd both agreed on. When the two women saw each other, their smiles grew. They hugged and then they parted, went inside, ordered, and got a close by place that would let them talk without possibly missing their order. JJ didn't have a lot of time before they all left. "Did you tell anyone I'm back?"

JJ pursed her lips. "I got the feeling you didn't want anyone to know."

Y/n sighed, covering her face. "I adore you guys, it's nothing like that. I just-" she laughed nervously, feeling her emotions rising. "Did you know that when I was a kid, I wanted to be a cop?" She laughed, looking anywhere but JJ. "I can't even handle one run in with a bad guy, let alone hundreds. Thousands. I'm not-" Y/n cut off. She was about to say 'worthy'. Something she screamed at herself all the time. But she couldn't say that to JJ- that would lead to her finding out about five and a half years ago. "Strong enough." That would work. "And because of that, I quit a job I really loved. Not even that- I just couldn't work there anymore. Quit and fired leave the idea that anyone wanted me to leave." She scoffed at herself. "And now I'm at Shutterfly printing pictures and talking to practically no one ever, standing around and waiting for someone to ask for a picture or a poster or something. I'm-" she huffed.

JJ reached across the table, hand resting against Y/n's arm. "You are not weak." Her words were so firm and sure that Y/n had a hard time finding something to argue. What had she been so sure of a moment ago? "You were kidnapped by a psychopath, Y/n. You were almost killed. That's horrible. Even we struggle with it for a very long time when it happens to us. The only difference is that we're conditioned to it every day of our lives. The fact that it bothers you is a good sign. We're... numb to it. It's really bad actually." She flinches, sighing. "You SHOULD be upset by it."

Taking a breath to stabilize herself, Y/n nodded. "I just... feel pathetic. And I don't want them to see me like this." She stared at the table, tracing her finger along the design. If she was being honest, it was really that she didn't want Reid to see her like this. After all, she'd told JJ just fine. But she wasn't being honest. When she looked up and met JJ's gaze, though, it was clear she didn't have to be. I guess that's what you get when you talk to a professional profiler.

"Okay." Their orders were called and they got them, heading out. "If I can do anything for you, Y/n, you have my number." Y/n nodded, but didn't say anything more. JJ had an odd look in her eyes that made Y/n nervous. "I promise I won't tell him." Neither had to clarify who she was talking. "Promise, okay?" Y/n nodded again and they hugged before JJ headed off to kick some bad guy ass.

Y/n felt terrible watching her go.

- First Person POV -

"You did what?"

"I got you a job here!" She repeated, sounded ecstatic. I felt horrified, and after my tone she continued at a very quick pace, as if to explain herself. "I figure you can get some second hand experience and see if you really are into this sort of thing. I know a lot of people like the idea, but sometimes when they get into this line of work they learn pretty quickly it's not for them. And that's okay. I just- I mean, it's just like your last job. You'll be an assistant; helping with paperwork, keeping this moving and organized and helping everyone go home sooner. We could use another set of eyes watching our backs- Hotch and I try our best, but there's just too many of them, you know?" It was an attempt at a joke, but when I didn't laugh she continued talking. "Plus, working here gives you great insurance. You could put yourself through schooling, for whatever kind of job you find you like most here. You might like to be a technical analysis instead of a field agent, or you might prefer something like my job that allows you limited field or... whatever." JJ had never sounded nervous before, but Y/n hadn't had too much experience in seeing her nervous in a personal situation, rather than seeing her face press or having to keep everything together under pressure. It was kind of endearing. "I thought it would be nice to know what you're getting into before you do it. And..." She hesitated. "We miss you. I haven't told anyone like you asked, but Garcia is dying to meet you and everyone always talk about how much we wish you were around to lighten up the mood like last time we worked with you.” JJ sighed. "Honestly, Garcia tries her best but keeping things light around here is hard, and it's taking a huge toll on her. It would be so helpful if she had someone to bounce off of."

Y/n found herself smiling. If she could really make a difference... I mean, if the job wiped out all of those who did it, who would do the job, right? Someone had to watch the backs of those too busy watching the backs of others.

She would be working Spencer constantly, but she tried not to think about that. She'd barely survived two weeks- how would she manage sharing a career with him? But, how could she turn him down? Wasn't the whole point of pulling herself together and becoming a better person and getting her old habits bated so that Spencer Reid didn't control her life anymore? This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for her whole life. She had no real excuses- she just couldn't let him hold her back from living her life, especially when he wanted to do anything but. She'd almost allowed her awkwardness with him deprive her of really good friends, which would have left her far from where she was now with this job offer. She needed to take charge and get the fuck over herself.

"You know what JJ, I would absolutely love that."

An audible sigh of relief sounded on the other side of the receiver and Y/n chuckled. "I'm so glad to hear that. I... did talk to Hotch because he's the one who hired you, so I may have fibbed a little about not telling ANYONE else- but he's good at keeping secrets, and everyone else will be shocked when you start. Should I brace them or do you want to break that news in person?"

Y/n couldn't help it- she smirked. "How could I turn down such a dramatic entrance?"

"I thought you would say that." Just from the sound of JJ's voice, Y/n could tell both of them had matching curves to their lips. It was that which made Y/n feel so sure that this would be a great thing for her. It wouldn't even be a big deal, beside maybe the initial shock of it all. She just had to not over think it.

Walking into a precinct full of people who were trained to pick apart every person they run across until they get into their head and saw their bare soul hadn't been a thought that crossed Y/n's mind until she walked into the room after JJ's rather dramatic and mysterious introduction. All eyes turned to Y/n and she almost died right then and there because the confusion burning in their gazes demanded to be satiated, and it seemed they were trying to answer the questions themselves rather than just asking. Their gaze bore into her, making her uncomfortable and awkward.

"Guys," JJ reminded.

Morgan blinked first. He grinned, standing up and approaching Y/n. "Oh my gosh! I-" he cut off, his arms twitching. "Are you good with hugs?" Y/n nodded wordlessly. When was the last time she'd been hugged? By... Maya. Oh god let's not think about that. Morgan wrapped his arms around her and she let his warmth distract her from dark thoughts. He gave great hugs- it was easy. She'd missed that feeling, goodness.

Prentiss was next. "Okay so I need an explanation here." She was smiling though, and her tone was as light as her hand as she rested it on Y/n's shoulders. She liked how touchy the team was. It was only in that moment that Y/n realized she was hungering for physical touch.

Pushing those thoughts down, Y/n tried to aim a little better for normal. "I kind of lost my last job because every time I went into the... Well, being back there made me kind of..." she motioned with her hands, trying to explain. Her face went red. "It's hard to return to the place you were kidnapped from." She cleared her throat, but there was no judgement from the people around her, just understanding. That made her feel worse. "Well, it turns out that small towns aren't as much my thing when the only other jobs are really menial, so I moved back to Virginia. I lived here my whole life before moving out there." She shrugged. "I was looking for real work and mentioned it to JJ one day since we talk a lot. And she'd amazing, so here I am." Again everyone nodded, but this time they had smiles on their faces and JJ beamed with pride.

"Well," Rossi began, but he was cut off by someone.

"Everyone out of my way!" The crowd beginning to form around me parted for a pretty blonde girl who was... very loud. Not just like voice wise, but with what she wore as well. It made my heart more full. It was almost a relief compared to all the neutral grey and black and the occasional blue or something. "I am Penelope Garcia, and we're going to be spending a lot of time together so I thought I thought I should ask now, how are with sexual humor and platonic flirting because this is like super essential to my personality."

Y/n giggled and everyone seemed to perk up, especially Garcia. "I'm kind of awkward," Y/n admitted. "But you can do whatever you want. As long as you keep that pretty smile on your face."

Everyone's jaw dropped, and Y/n and Garcia both turned red. Y/n blushed because despite what she'd just said she really was awkward. Garcia blushed because after what Y/n had said, she hadn't expected to be flirted with, neither had she been flirted with by such a cute, innocent person. She was used to Derek who was unapologetically sexy. "Oh," the blonde noticed. "We're going to be GREAT friends."

"I really hope so," Y/n gushed sincerely. Everyone seemed to be cheery already, smiles all around.

Then Y/n saw Spencer. He approached slowly, seeming shy as he gently maneuvered through people to get to Y/n. "Hi," he greeted softly upon finally reaching a comfortable distance.

It was suddenly pin drop silent, and the lack of chatter seemed so heavy that Y/n winced, feeling her chest rage against it. "Hello." Y/n cleared her throat, hoping her burning face could be excused by her interaction with Garcia, where it had started. "So. Anything major happening today?"

JJ saw the cry of help and answered the call instantly. "We have a new case."

"Thank god," Spencer whispered, ducking his head and moving away from Y/n. She didn't think he'd meant for her to hear it, and the words hadn't seemed to hurt anyone else, so she let them roll off of her shoulders. He had seemed pretty happy to see her, if a little awkward. It was probably weird to see her so social when she was so stiff with him was all. And after how heavy the air had been, she was relieved to get away from it herself.

Was this going to be how it always was between them?

Goodness she hoped not.

One sip, bad for me; one hit, bad for me; one kiss, bad for me, but I give in so easily. And no thank you is how it should've gone. I should stay strong, but I'm weak, and what's wrong with that?

- third person POV -

"Hey, G," Y/n greeted brightly, two cups of coffee in her hands. It had been a few days on her first case, and already she understood what JJ had meant by Garcia struggling to keep the mood light. The woman hated to frown, let alone be serious, and unfortunately for her the rest of the team was pretty stoic. Thankfully she could bounce off of Morgan, but now that she had Y/n who was as equally positive - if not as high energy - the two women had come up with lots of things to keep each other in good shape. Like dorky nicknames only they used, and being around each other a lot, and sharing food and drink suggestions. Y/n was usually the one to get them since her job made her feel rather useless since she didn't do much to make a difference, but she could reason to herself that keeping Garcia caffeinated was the best thing she could do for the team other than be out there with them directly.

"Hey, Lovergirl," Garcia piped cheerily. Y/n chuckled at the nickname. Ever since her flirting, they'd been nonstop back and forth in a much more innocent way than Garcia was with Morgan. The man and Y/n had jokingly fought over Garcia, but then she had made a joke about how she had two hands and it had ended there. The sort of pure back and forth had let Garcia giving her more innocent nicknames, like Sweetheart and Lovergirl, rather than Chocolate Thunder over there. Someone had asked if they were dating and they'd both fist bumped after having a laughing fit over it. Somewhere along the way Garcia had mumbled, 'Lovergirl wishes' and it had been making Y/n smile ever since. She'd never had a friend like this before and she was basking in it.

Unfortunately, the rest of the team wasn't having as good of a time.

"It's so good to hear your voice." It was Morgan, making Y/n smile even wider.

"Not as good as it is to hear yours," Y/n replied calmly. "How you doing, Batman?"

The smile was obvious in his voice. "Much better now that you're here." Y/n giggled then settled in next to Garcia. They got to business after that. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing you want to know," Garcia sighed. She tried to keep her tone casual but Y/n could tell she also didn't want to talk about it.

"Fair enough. Anything I can do to help the most beautiful woman in the world?" She asked instead. "Give me literally anything, otherwise I have to leave your amazing presence and then where would I be?"

Garcia was grinning again. Y/n felt proud. "There's actually a lot of that footage still left. I got distracted by what you gave me last time. Want to see if you can get anything else?" Y/n nodded, getting to work.

It took a few hours until she found something, but when she did, her heart stopped. She snagged her phone, dialing Reid immediately. He answered on the second ring. "Y/n?" He seemed surprised, but his tone pitched up like he was happy about it too.

Y/n was too preoccupied to think about it. "What the likelihood of winning gambles at chance games?"

"Well what kind of chance gamble? The odds of winning the Lottery are approximately one in fourteen-million, where a person has a one in three million chance of sighting a UFO. Funnily enough, that's almost five times more likely than winning the jackpot. You are more likely to die of a flesh eating disease at one in a million than winning the lottery."

"Spencer?" Y/n smiled to herself, not being able to stop him. He was adorable. She pushed that to the back of her mind, shaking her head to refocus as well as wipe the smile off of her face. "How often do people have a so called winning streak in gambling? Like in casinos." He paused and Y/n's eyebrows together. "Spencer?" And then she realized her mistakes and her eyes widened. "I- uh- Dr. Reid."

He sucked in air before responding in a rasping voice, "Some scientists actually believe that luck streaks are real, continued by the fact that people just choose safer odds and then keep on that streak every time they... anyway, the point it, based on how smart you are, you could keep winning constantly."

A thought caught in Y/n's mind. "Have you ever lost a gamble?"

His answer was immediate and clueless. "I haven't, no. Why do you ask?"

Y/n tried not to laugh and managed a soft chuckle. "No reason. Uh-" She shook her head again. God, why couldn't she focus?! "I was looking through more of that footage we got where we saw the masked unsub walking in the shadows and looking for someone to kill. Well I was looking through the extra footage the casino gave us- remember the bonus hours they said nothing happened on, but they gave it to us just to give us more hours? To be annoying, because they were mad or whatever?" Spencer hummed. "Well, a man matching the masked attacker's height, weight, and wearing the same suit shows up the next day gambling. For nearly the entire day, and then he goes home with far more money than he came with and he hasn't lost a single game." Y/n paused, biting her lip. "Not even once the whole day."

Garcia's interest has peaked at this point. She's rolls her chair over, eyes scanning the moment Y/n's paused on on the screen. The footage is from an old camera, so Y/n doesn't even know if they can make out his face. But there he is. Facing the camera and everything. "He wore the same suit," she whispers, horrified.

"Do you think he's killing to increase his luck?" Spencer asked hurriedly.

"No," Y/n answered immediately. Only then did she realized he'd asked Garcia, but the blonde was looking at her to explain her answer so she shot off. "The day before, he was agitated. Today, he's calm. Not confident, but completely at peace. It's not like that one case you talked about where a guy went around killing people because he thought it brought him luck. I looked back on feed for that and he was reckless- almost drunk, high on confidence. This man... it's like he got a good night's rest."

Spencer paused. "How do you know about that case?"

"Oh well JJ made a comment about how this one was similar to that one so I got the file and looked into it. We have the footage and everything on file." She shrugged, then saw Garcia's look of shock. "Should... I have not done that?"

"No you're fine," Garcia voiced. "That's just really impressive catch up playing."

Y/n blushed. "I'm just doing my job." She cleared her throat. "I could be wrong, I just wanted your opinion-" she cut off, catching herself for a second. "Reid."

She could feel him nod, rather than see it since they were over the phone. "Thanks Y/n. I'll tell the others."

"Anything for you, Wonderboy," Y/n teased. The line went dead. She felt her stomach twist. She was trying to treat him like she did everyone else, but every flirt hit different when it was directed at him. Even such easily dismissed ones such as the one she'd just delivered. She could feel Garcia's eyes locked on her so Y/n busied herself with her drink until the blonde had to get back to work, boarding on already wasting time they didn't have.

For now, she had escaped questions but every day it got harder as people seem to take everything she said and looked into it so see the truth where she tried to hide it.

God help her.

Y/n slipped into the elevator. This case hadn't gone very well, ending with gun shots ringing through Garcia's phone and a long silence of unknowing whether it was for the unsub or for their friends. Turns out, it was a little of both. One for the unsub, one for none other than Dr. Spencer Reid himself. He'd lost a lot of blood before anything could be done and now he was in the hospital and the entire team had had to pry Y/n out of that room and to her house so she could get cleaned up a little after having gone straight from hours in the office, stressing about work, straight to hovering over his bed waiting for him to wake up for just as long.

Now she entered the room again, nodding to a waiting Prentiss. "They told me to come send you outside next." Hotch had been getting them home one by one, as each of the team had been as worried as Y/n. "JJ and Hotch have kids and Morgan's on Garcia duty to make sure she gets some food and rest. Have you eaten yet?" Prentiss stood, shaking her head. "I've got this, and Rossi said he might drop by to keep me company if he can't get to sleep. Please."

"Thank you," Prentiss whispered as she passed Y/n on her way out. There were frown lines on the edges of her eyes and a strain to her smile. "Don't stay too long. Sleeping here can't be good for your back." It was a weak joke- everyone knew the other girl wouldn't leave this room again until he was awake. And he would wake up. Prentiss caught Y/n's hand. "Hey, you know it wasn't your fault right?"

Y/n flinched. She had been the one to give Reid the information about the unsub. Morgan had been a little skeptical of her idea since she wasn't a profiler, and it had put an edge on everyone else too, even Hotch who was obviously trying not to be partial. The truth was though, Derek was more experienced than Y/n was. He was more familiar with the team and had their trust a lot more. They had said something about Reid being partial, but Garcia and JJ had been pretty convinced too. That didn't help Reid when he went the extra mile to prove to everyone Y/n was right though. That he trusted her for a real reason. That there was merit to her words and observations. It didn't help him when he went a different direction than the others because he had a gut feeling and Hotch encouraged him too. It didn't even help when he'd taken JJ with him, since she was the only other person who believed Y/n as much as Spencer did.

It didn't help him when he got shot on Y/n's hunch. Got shot with her on the phone, waiting on baited breath just to hear JJ freaking out on the other end.

It didn't help him now either, as he lay in a hospital bed.

Y/n looked away. "Yeah."

"I'm serious," Prentiss insisted. "At the time, it was fair for us to doubt you. We-" she cut off, choosing better words. "We shouldn't have, because you did your work like the rest of us. But you are new and untrained, so it was fair to have pause at first. But Reid, JJ, and Garcia all backed you up and we should have been there for that. We could all play the blame game. If we’d just listened to Reid and JJ. If we’d believed Garcia. If we had been more open minded about you... But that’s isn’t fair. It's no one's fault but the unsub's."

That was another thing. The man who had put Reid in the hospital was still out there, already all better and heading out to jail. His eyes were open and there had been a smile on his face when he was getting toted off. JJ had told Y/n while she was in shock. He was fine and Reid was in the hospital and Y/n sat there hating the whole thing. "Yeah," she repeated, because she didn't have the energy to fight herself on how she felt versus what she knew to be real.

Prentiss seemed to see that struggle and recognized that she couldn't get through to Y/n anymore than she already had. So she left and Y/n was there alone. She took back her old spot, where she'd been until a few hours ago. Where Prentiss had been sitting before she came back. Now she sat back down again and rested her elbow on the bed. It was itching into late mid morning and Y/n still hadn't slept. Her eyelids were dragging against her, demanding she rest. She tried to fight it, but eventually her head drooped more and more until it fell next to Spencer's limp arm and the world was lost to her as she fell asleep.

There was a sense of being watched that ripped her awake again. Her eyes shot open and her fingers curled around the sheets, her body going rigid. A pair of hands shot out to wrap around her tense fingers, pulling them away from the bed in an attempt to soothe her. She thought it was Rossi for a second until she sat up and looked over to see a weakly smiling but very awake Spencer. Y/n felt her chest shake as she sucked in a relieved breath.

"Hi," he croaked.

"You idiot." Tears were blurring her vision as she held herself back from punching him in the arm. He was hurt enough. "I oughtta sock you."

He laughed. He actually laughed, the ass. "You were right." He got a little more serious, the look in his eyes becoming soft and his smile being filled with pride rather than amusement. "He was about to kill someone when we came in. You saved a life, Y/n. Maybe even more, depending on how long it would have taken us to get him with where we were taking the case. The profile was just wrong enough he might have gotten a few more people before we stopped him."

That made Y/n relax. "I don't forgive you for getting shot."

Spencer's smile widened. "I'll do better next time."

"You better," Y/n warned. "Or I'LL put you in the hospital next time I swear to god Spencer." His eyes twinkled and Y/n swallowed. "Er, Reid."

He chuckled again. "I like when you call me Spencer. JJ does it too. It's nice."

Y/n tried not to internalize that. "Well if this is us becoming friends then I require you to have a personal nickname given to you by yours truly which only I use," Y/n warned him. After what he had done for her, standing up for her, she couldn't think of them as anything else. It was weird, as the words made her anxiety spike. Was she slipping again? Would these things lead to her obsession again? She wouldn't have to stalk him anymore- now she was right by his side, all alone. What if she was taking advantage of that situation? What would happen if he rejected her friendship? What if they got into an argument? What if his sudden interest in her was just that she was the new kid in town and it faded and they became casual acquaintances after a little while? What if... what if he met someone and that smile he wore now was for them instead?

Y/n felt jealousy twist her gut and she tried not to book it out of the room right then and there.

"I would love that."

Her eyes focused back on him and his smile seemed to waver, picking up on her mood change immediately. "Perfect," she whispered, struggling to speak around the sensation that could only be described as feeling like her ribs crushing into her lungs and heart. She had to blend in though. She couldn't be awkward with Spencer. They were already looking too closely at her. She had to stay calm and keep her distance, but not so much that people noticed and started asking questions. This job meant too much to her she had to get it under control. "How do you feel about Pence?" Her fingers fiddled with each other and his eyes caught the moment immediately. She forced the energy to move to her feet instead, softly tapping where he could not see. "Hm?"

Only then did he answer the question, when she tried to pull his attention away from her body language and to what she had said instead. His eyes stayed trained on her, but he offered a casual, "Whatever you want to call me. I've heard you calling Garcia 'G' and I think that's neat. I've never really had a nickname other than Spence."

"You're right," Y/n mumbled, focusing her mind on the task at hand rather than her pathetic need to be as close to Spencer as possible, in every way she was allowed. GOD she was insane. But that wasn't the concern right now. Right now she needed to think about a nickname for Spencer. "That's too similar. What about just Pen?"

His smile returned and Y/n felt herself relax. "Isn't that Penelope's nickname?"

"We don't use it often, and now people have started to gravitate towards G because I'm a genius and it's way cooler." Spencer grinned and Y/n felt her chest squeeze even tighter. He was beautiful... BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT SHE WAS GOING TO FOCUS ON! "I can think of something else-"

"No I love it," Spencer rushed.

It was Y/n's turn to chuckle. "I may slip into calling you Penny and you can't judge me for that."

Spencer's fingers brushed hers and she yanked her hand away, seizing up. He seemed to have something suddenly foul tasting in his mouth, but he managed, "I wouldn't ever judge you."

Those words. Oh god. She stood. "I'll get the nurses. Tell them you're awake. You need to eat something." She was gone before he could respond, leaving him confused and alone in her awake.

Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. I'm weak, but I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that.

"Pick up," Y/n spat through a locked jaw to the ringing tone she was hearing. It had wrung too many times. She had called him so much and he hadn't answered once. She knew she wasn't paying him to be her therapist anymore, but he had said they were friends. To call him if she needed someone who understood to give her encouragement, or just to catch up. Why wasn't he answering?!

"Y/n?"

Relief flooded her body. "Michael." Her tense body relaxed all at once and it was so nice she almost toppled over. Someone stared at her and she waved at them awkwardly before turning away and hoping they minded their own business. "Michael I'm losing my mind."

He was quiet for a second. "Talk to me."

Y/n ran through everything that had happened since that first day in her old office when Spencer and his team had first entered her life for real, all up until the hospital visit a few nights ago and how she had been avoiding him ever since. "It's coming back, Kel. BAD. I can't get him out of my head, and every time he gets anywhere near my body gets all tingly. I DREAMT about him last night. He keeps touching me and it's like I'm getting struck by lighting. And then he said my name and my chest gets all crushed up again and I want to know everything about him and be around him all the time and GOD I'm so scared that I'm going to end up like one of these psychotic unsubs. I don't want to quit. I LOVE my job. But if I'm doing it again-"

"Y/n, take a breath. You're forgetting to breathe when you talk again." She paused, forcing herself to intake and exhale air so her body wouldn't seize up. One time she'd talked so much about Spencer that she'd stopped breathing and had fully passed out. It was pathetic and she hated herself for it, but it had happened. "Now, I need you to really think about these questions before you answer them okay?"

"Okay," Y/n encouraged.

"Have you taken pictures of him without his permission or without him being aware?"

Y/n flinched at the memory of burning the shoe boxes, but was relieved to be able to say, "No."

"Have you followed him anywhere without his permission or without him being aware?"

"No," Y/n confirmed again, a little confused. "I don't have to, we work together."

Michael ignored the comment. "Have you learned personal information about him without his permission or without him being aware?"

"No," Y/n said slowly after thinking about it. She'd learned plenty of things, but she'd avoided it as much as possible for this very reason.

"Have you watched him in anyway without his permission or without him being aware?"

Y/n considered that. "No," she finalized, nodding to herself. "I- well I stare at him sometimes from across the room. Is that bad?"

Michael actually laughed. "Not necessarily." he paused, letting Y/n calm down with that reassurance. "How would you feel if Spencer told you he was dating someone tomorrow?"

That familiar icky gut twist returned as she thought about it. "Terrible." The word was heavy with mourning. It had slipped out immediately without her meaning to say it, so she hadn't been able to even sugar coat the response.

There was a fat pause where Michael was quiet, but he spoke again before Y/n's anxiety could get her to say something or voice her panic. "What about if he showed up with a pet, or a family member that he was close to?"

Well what an odd question. "I wouldn't care."

A smile wrung in Michael's voice when he spoke again. "Does he have someone he's as close to or closer to than you?"

"Well he's really good friends with JJ and Morgan."

"How do you feel about them?"

Y/n frowned. "I really like JJ. She actually got me this job and has been the most helpful in helping me get settled, other than Garcia. But... Morgan seems to have some trepidation about me. He liked me at first but then one day he started to get really short with me and started to try and convince everyone that I'm like not fit for this job or something."

"And that's why only JJ and Spencer went after the unsub, right?"

"Yeah," Y/n agreed. "Why is this important, Kel?"

A short pause this time. "Y/n I don't think you're old tendencies are back." That stunned her.

"But I'm doing all the same things."

"You're actually not," Michael argued. "And even when things overlap, like the watching and getting to know him, it's not for the same reasons. You're naturally forming a relationship rather than living out a fantasy that he's not apart of in reality. Do you remember the last time I asked you about Spencer having a pet or a partner?"

Y/n flinched again, but much worse. "Yeah," she mumbled, covering her face.

"What did you tell me?" Michael asked softly.

Y/n's eyes watered. "I told you they made me angry. That I..." She closed her eyes. "That I wanted to get them out of the way from me being with him."

"And what did you tell me just now when I asked again?" There was regret in his voice, but that was obviously from bringing up the terrible memories of the past. There was something else too. Urgency. He wanted Y/n to understand something, but it seemed to be going over her head.

"Uh... I told you it made me sad."

"Why does it make you sad, Y/n?"

She thought about that. "Because he wouldn't look at me anymore. He gets this really soft look in his eyes when he looks at me. Like I have something important to him but he trusts me with it completely. Or like he admires me or looks up to me. It makes me feel really good about myself." She chuckled sheepishly, wincing. "That's probably silly." She didn't pause before continuing, and Michael didn't try to interrupt her or respond, knowing how she got when she spoke about Spencer. "When he touches me, it's really gently, like I might break or like he's shy. I-" she snorted. "I think that's because he's a germaphobe."

That caught Michael's attention. "He's a germaphobe?"

"Yeah," Y/n sighed. "He won't even shake people's hands, and he washed them a lot when he's stressed. He rarely even accepts hugs from the others so I haven't offered, even when he was in the hospital. But that's also probably because I'm pretty sure I'm literally crazy."

"You're not crazy," Michael said first. Y/n smiled a little. It was very reminiscent of the times he had helped her out of the darkest place she'd ever been. Made her feel safe when she thought she was a walking crime scene waiting to happen. He had been her best friend for so long... why had she stopped calling him? "Y/n?" She hummed, letting him know she was listening. "He refuses handshakes and is afraid of germs and is even hesitant to take hugs from people who are practically his family from what you say, but even though you've guys only really known each other well for a little over a week, he's already willing to touch you?"

Now that he mentioned it, that was rather odd. She hadn't considered it before. "I... yeah, I guess."

The smile was back when he spoke again. "Y/n last time we talked about him, you couldn't even say his name without gripping something so hard your knuckles turned white. Now you talk about him like it's a relief to say it. Before he brought you stress and angst and wanting, but now he brings you peace and happiness and a feeling of belonging. You feel sad at the prospect of losing him in any way, rather than angry. Usually when obsessive people who stalk their targets see them with someone else, they get angry. Normal people get sad."

Y/n tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. Her eyes were wide with fear. A fear that was so different from but still just as bad as the thought of her fears of seeing herself being obsessed with Spencer Reid. Because if she wasn't obsessed... "What are you trying to say?" Her words begged him not to say it.

He did anyway. "Y/n, I don't think you're possessive or obsessed with him." He spoke slowly, every word filling her body with more and more dread. "I think you have feelings for him, but not bad ones. Normal ones. I think you like him, like people like each other. Like, want to date him like him."

"Oh god," Y/n whispered. "I- I'll call you later okay Michael?" He sighed and hummed, so she rushed to explain. "I swear I will. For real this time. I can't thank you for everything you've done for me but-"

"You're panicking," he realized. "I completely understand. Please don't do anything stupid, okay? These feelings are normal and perfectly okay."

"Yeah," Y/n whispered, nodding even though he couldn't see her. They exchanged a tentative farewell and then she lowered her phone, running a hand through her hair. "Well," she whispered, staring at the ground like it was about to open up and swallow her whole. "Guess it's time to quit my job."

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#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #female reader #imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Gonna Be Home Soon

Time’s passed and things don’t feel better. It’s like settling, accepting, the new normal. But sometimes exceptions can be made to the rules.

My fingers slipped. Part 2 of Away for a Moment.

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When Calum’s phone rings at 8:05 am, he doesn’t waste a second to answer it. He’s been anticipating this call ever since the two of you talked last night and you mentioned errands you needed to run in the morning. And there you are, grinning into the camera, the morning sun bright behind you.

“Morning,” you chirp.

“Morning, love,” he returns, falling back into the mass of pillows on his bed. “Waiting for the bus?”

“Nah, the store’s not too far and I’m already half way there.”

He nods, a hum falling over his lips. Your breathing is a little heavy. He can hear the pants as you walk. There’s a bit of a hill on the way there, if his memory serves him correctly. “Sleep okay?”

You shrug, ducking under a tree to take a short cut up to the concrete steps that lead you into the tiny shopping center. “Slept alright. Woke up in the night sweating my ass off.”

“What about your fan?”

“It was on. I had just cocooned myself and got to hot that’s all. What about you? How’d you sleep?”

Calum starts to answer but like his body knows, a yawn interrupts him. “ ‘Cuse me. Slept okay. Still trying to wake up even though I’ve been up for a while.”

“I’m sorry, love. I can let you go. You need rest.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He doesn’t it say it but you know just by looking at him that even if he were dead tired he’d answer your call. And you know it’s because of the two incidents you told him about while just out. Approached once by men who was too chatty for your comfort—asking too many questions about you personally. And then someone asked for directions which wouldn’t have been weird but they never got off at the stop that you gave them directions for. So when you got off at your stop in front of a gas station you marched right into it and lingered until you were sure the bus had passed.

You don’t regret telling Calum about these strange encounters. And Calum knew you could defend yourself but he didn’t want you to have too. He didn’t like that you had to be on alert and that you were always looking over your shoulder. He knew you would and did still do it in LA with him. He knew all the times you had gone out without before. But he had always been close by. And now he’s not. He’s miles away, across state lines and though he’s not too far it’s still far enough for him to worry more than he did before.

You walk into the Wal-Mart and grab a basket, cradling your phone in one hand. “Wow, it’s kinda quiet in here.”

Calum remembers previous how packed the place was when he helped you move and how you recounted going on a Saturday and immediately regretting it.

“Better hurry,” he teases, looking to Duke who’s now waiting at the edge of the bed. His ears are perked up. Calum picks him up and sets him on his chest.

Your screen when you glance back down is full of Duke’s face and his fur hiding away Calum. But that’s perfectly fine by you. “My boy! Is pops treating you well?”

Duke barks in response to the question. His snout pressing into the screen almost as if that will bring you closer to him. You don’t even realize tears are welling until one falls and hits your screen. “Love you Duke.”

He barks again at the sound of your voice, leaping off Calum to unearth your sweatshirt he buried into the sheets.

“Oh Duke gets tears but I don’t? I see how it is.”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks. “Shut up. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until just then. I know I miss you.”

“Hey, no, I’m just teasing. Is too soon for a visit?”

Calum knows it’s only just over a month. Maybe a full month and a half since the last time he visited. He’s not really sure. All he knows that the days are long. All the clothes you’ve left behind have lost all your scent. Big’s too big and most nights Calum falls asleep on the couch. You text him though well before he falls asleep to make it to the bedroom. You beg him really, knowing that it’s better to have a healthy sleeping schedule. Sometimes he makes it, even sends a selfie from underneath the covers, pouting of course.

In the studio, things feel normal. He can focus on the tasks at hands. And he still can crack jokes. The guys know though. They can all tell that Calum lingers around his phone more so than usual. He takes every call, even the ones that he’d normally ignore because he can tell they’re probably spam. But he takes them know because he can’t be sure it’s not you. Sometimes, he wishes it was you, instead of some bullshit car insurance scam.

The other guys can tell Calum’s a little down in the dumps because when they ask him if he wants to join for dinner, he declines. And it’s not like he couldn’t shoot you a text saying that he’ll have to push back the FaceTime until later, or just hold off until tomorrow. It’s not like you’d flip your shit. But instead, he holds to those FaceTime dates. He holds for the times even if he’s writing, he can glance to his phone and see you riding the bus or walking into your classes.

It’s the new normal and though Calum misses the way it used to be. It’s his new normal that keeps him mostly sane. It’s this new normal that helps Calum orient his days. Monday you text early in the morning to head into your office and you message at every stop too. And then around 2 he can call, after you’re done with one stint of classes. On Tuesdays, you morning starts early but he can call during your morning commute. Wednesdays he knows that it’ll mostly be a text day, you have meetings all in the morning and then classes well into the afternoon. Thursday start to lighten up and you can FaceTime most the day of the day minus the tutoring hours you’re putting in. And Fridays, Fridays are Calum’s solace. He can wake early, knowing you’re up early too, and he can be there for just about everything. It’s your reading day too. So you two talk mostly in the morning while you run errands.

Like today, as you pull out your grocery list, Calum watches you smile at the folks passing you by. “What’s on the list today, love?”

“Batteries. Restock on the veggies and figure out what’s for dinner for the next couple of days. I found these two recipes that I want to try. Just can’t decide on which one.”

“What are they?”

“One’s a chili recipe. Other one is a one pot spaghetti recipe.”

“I vote chili. You can freeze part of the portion for next week.”

You nod, with a hum. “Smart call. Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Calum laughs, scooping Duke back up into his arms. “Not my devilishly handsome good looks.”

“You’re hot, don’t get my wrong. But it’s what? Two years in now? Good looks don’t make a relationship. But they do help.”

“I see, loving me for my brains. I can’t say I’m upset with that.” The aisle aren’t clear as you walk down. But you pause. Calum can’t really see where, thinks it might be the clothes or close to it. You hold up a cartoon sports bra, wiggling your eyebrows. Calum whistles. “Hot.”

You snort. “I’ll pair it with my school sweatpants.”

“Doubly hot,” Calum snickers.

As you wonder about, you show small things to Calum, laughing together as you goof about in Wal-Mart. You show Calum a T-shirt that says ‘I can’t people today’ stating that you need that saying tattooed to your forehead. Even though you’ve gotten into a routine it’s still hard some days just to deal with any other human being. Calum’s always enjoyed watching you, even if it’s just you reading the ingredients lists on the back of box. And you do it out of habit now, taking the time to make sure nothing has changed in the ingredients list. Depending on what it is, sometimes there’s a recipe.

“How many bags of mango slices do you go through in a week?” Calum asks, watching the package fall into your cart.

You duck your head, speeding down the aisle even though you’re reaching back for another bag. “We do not talk about that.”

“You’re going to have a whole mango budget!”

“At least it’s better than you and your Oreos,” you sass back, waiting for the elderly couple to cross in front of you. “How many packs are you up to in a week?”

“Two,” he states through a mumbles. “But I’m cutting back!”

The giggles dissipate and you warn Calum that you’ll have to put him in your back pocket while you check out. It’s not a bad haul and you’re glad for it. You’re trying to keep the weekly grocery spending low, since the rent’s a little high at your place. With all your groceries bagged, you find your reusable bag and then head for the bus stop. Though it’ll take it a little far out of the way, it beats hauling your groceries up two hills and reduces it to one.

The morning’s growing warmer and Calum can see the beads of sweat as you walk down to the stop. He knows he ought to get up too. He should think about getting grocery, and washing the bedsheets, and scrub the bathroom. He doesn’t want to. He wants to wrap his arms around you and bury his nose in your neck and inhale the smell of your shampoo and body wash.

Once you’re safe into your apartment grocery sitting on the counter, you say your goodbyes. It’s in Calum’s eyes. The way the tears don’t fully form but they do glaze over his eyes and you know. It’s going to be a hard day. And if it weren’t for the 200 pages you had to read between your classes, you would’ve stayed longer on the call. You almost ask if he wants to stay on as you read. It almost crosses your lips.

But Calum sighs. “Guess I gotta let you go, but we’ll talk throughout the day?”

You don’t know if he’s got a busy day or not. It’s Friday and while it’s your easy day, Calum might be buried in some work. So you nod. “Of course.”

The groceries are easy to put up. You settle down for the first half the reading, pen and highlighter at the ready. Calum drops the phone into the sheets and turns onto his stomach, face buried in the pillows. The day will be long if he stays like this. But he can afford himself a little misery, a little grace so that he can sigh about how much he misses you but eventually get his own ass into gear.

Between the grocery, scrubbing the bathroom, three loads of laundry, Calum doesn’t even realize more than half the day is gone and there’s nothing much else to do. But that ache of saying goodbye to you finally comes back and he took today off from the studio. Which might’ve been a mistake. But it’s too late now, so Calum walks into his own office and picks up his acoustic guitar.

He was only going to send it to you. But he didn’t want to inundate you with the same old sad sentiments. And sure, this one was a little different, him strumming as his voice is just above a whisper, to let himself finally release the yearning. But still, he didn’t want to bother you. The texts were less consistent than normal but he also understood when you had reading days you were focused on nothing else but the readings.

Your phone buzzes an alert to let you know about an email. You check it, not sure if it was a student making an appointment for tutoring, but it’s just from the school’s bookstore. “Fucking, now I have anxiety about my email,” you chuckle to yourself.

Then your fingers wonder, you exit the mail app and tap onto instagram. Right in the bubbles up top is Calum’s icon. You tap onto it and see, or hardly see the lamps illuminating him. And it’s dark back at home much like it is where you are. His voice is soft as he croons, his cry out for a return. The semester is halfway done and you know even though you’re going to be soon buried in work for midterms, though mostly for the tutoring and teaching and less of midterms for you, you text Calum.

Gonna be home soon. Just for the weekend. I’ll book a train ticket.

Almost immediately after sending the text, your phone buzzes with a phone call from Calum. “I can come to you,” he rushes out.

“Well, it’s not home.”

“Home’s not a building, not a place,” Calum whispers. “And I know some people are going to say it’s not smart to find home in other people. But it’s too late for me. You make me feel at home.”

“Literally, I’m crying into my books,” you return, wiping your cheeks.

“What time are you free on Thursdays? After 6 is good, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, after 6 I’m free.”

“I’ll see you then. We can try that Indian place you pass on the way to class. And I’ll be there to remind you to drink water when you’re grading.”

A soft exhalation of laughter escapes you. “I definitely need that. See you Thursday.”

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