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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

It's Delicate: Part III

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.9

Author’s Note: Here's Part 3!! This was super difficult for me to get out, but I think I'm happy with it. I rewrote it like 3 or 4 times

It's Delicate: Part III

Spencer notices everything. He’s been trained to notice the slightest change in his environment. He supposes that his profiler training has helped him be more comfortable in social situations. But still, Spencer feels like a fish out of water as he pushes the door to the bookstore open. He knows he should feel at home when he’s in a bookstore, but his heart seems to be racing. Spencer tries to quiet his nerves before he can feel himself running away.

Thinking that it might be a good idea to distract himself, Spencer walks over to the bookshelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. He runs his fingers along the spine of the books. Some are old and used, and others are well cared for with their enabled and embossed writing on the spines. He recognizes some titles, but others aren’t too familiar. There’s a whole world of books out there that Spencer has yet to explore. There’s a couple other patrons in the store, an older woman who sits on the soft rocking chair in the back corner and a young woman who already has a pile of books tucked under her arms.

Looking around, Spencer walks towards the back of the store where a glowing sign directs him to the restroom. He goes into the Men’s Room and locks the door behind him. Spencer looks at his reflection in the mirror. He wouldn’t consider himself a vain man, nor would he consider himself aloof about his appearance. He’s very much aware of the deep lines that collect around his eyes and the dark bags underneath. Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. He likes the way his longer hair looks. It took so long after getting released from prison to get his curls back. His hair is the one part of his physical appearance that Spencer can say he likes; the rest he’s a little less than indifferent about on a good day.

Spencer shuts the light off in the bathroom and heads back to the front of the store. He approaches the store clerk, who sits behind the counter. She’s talking with the young woman who had the pile of books tucked under her arms. Spencer looks around the store, trying to find a sign for where the book club meets. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Y/N looks like. He decides to take out his phone to text Y/N that he’s here. Spencer walks to the short stories section of the store and looks for the “P”s. Once he finds the book he’s looking for he takes a photo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: How have I not discovered this place sooner??

He doesn’t expect for Y/N to text him back right away, so he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Spencer walks to the front of the store. The display highlights the books of the month with different authors, genres, and themes. It’s a quaint little store and Spencer wonders why he put off visiting so long. The young woman finishes with the clerk and brushes past Spencer, her face buried in her phone. Spencer walks towards the shelves of True Crime books. He sees Rossi’s latest release about the Golden State Killer. Before Spencer can pick up the book, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Ooooh a man after my own heart :) I’m guessing you’re here too

Spencer: Yes...I just realized I don’t know what you look like?

Y/N: Well, I guess that means you have to find me

Spencer looks around at the patrons in the store. The older woman and the younger woman seem like the only logical candidates. The young woman doesn’t look up when Spencer brushes past, her attention is intently focused on the book across her lap, while the older woman swipes on her e-reader.

Spencer: You know I could just call you and your phone would ring

Y/N: That’s like cheating

Y/N: Turn around

Spencer turns around and is greeted by the young woman who brushed past him before. She smiles up at him and Spencer can’t help but grin back at her. He didn’t really give much thought to what Y/N looks like, and he can only hope that she didn’t think too much about him in that way. Spencer has to stop himself from that spiral, and remind himself that it’s not a date.

“You’re Y/N?” Spencer asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too nervous.

“Yes, and I really hope you’re Spencer,” she says, “you’re nothing like I pictured,”

Spencer’s face must have shown his shock because Y/N’s hand comes up to gently touch his upper arm in an attempt to quell his worry.

“No, nothing bad, Spencer. You just text like a grandpa so I figured you were a lonely old man. I’m just surprised that you’re pretty...young is all,” Y/N finishes her voice climbing up a couple of scales making her nerves evident.

Spencer nods in agreement, used to people thinking he’s older than he actually is his entire life. He supposes that’s because of his intelligence coupled with his social ineptitude.

“Well, judging by your texting, I predicted that you would be around my age, or younger,” Spencer says he’s always had difficulties keeping conversations going, yet right now his mind is swimming of different things he can tell Y/N.

“So you ready for your first Book Buddy meeting?” Y/N asks. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a playful smile. Spencer likes her smile and grows disappointed that the only time he’ll be able to see it is when they meet together. As much as he is technology adverse, he wouldn’t mind being able to see her smile through her emojis and snarky messages.

“I’m still not too sure what we’re supposed to do, but at least I’ve got you to show me,”

“Come on Book Buddy virgin,” Y/N says winking at Spencer as she walks past him to the staircase that leads to the store’s basement.

Spencer tries to ignore her comment, but even with his brain power he can’t stop his ears from turning pink. He’s always blushing around people who listen to him, especially when those people are so enthralling to watch.

In the basement, there’s shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. A couple of couches and sofas are tucked in the corner with a table and lamp. The soft light is warm and inviting. Spencer’s eyes can’t help but to scan the various titles in the collection. Y/N flops down on the couch and taps the seat, signalling for Spencer to sit next to her.

Sitting down next to her, Spencer wonders how much space he should put between them. He doesn’t want to sit so close and have her think he’s only here to make a pass at her. Nor does he want to sit so far away, because the scent of her peppermint and eucalyptus perfume threatens to mesmerize him.

Y/N brushes her hair from her face with her right hand, that’s adorned with a ring and a couple gold bracelets. She looks over at Spencer apprehensively and he tries to give her a comforting smile back, but he’s afraid that he just looks awkward. He suddenly is very aware that his breath tastes like stale coffee and his hair is wild, pointing out in several directions.

“So Spencer,” Y/N says, “usually we meet in a big group to do these Book Clubs, but this year the store decided to do this Book Buddy thing. Reading and picking out books for someone can be a very personal thing, so I’d like to get to know you a little bit better if that’s alright?”

Spencer’s eyes steady the woman before him. She looks over at him, her eyes never breaking from his. Psychology shows that holding eye contact is a sign of confidence, for a litany of reasons, Spencer has always had difficulties maintaining eye contact. He sighs loudly. It’s almost a mix between exasperation and confusion. Even though Spencer has spent a good portion of his adult life surrounded by very forward people, he still feels slightly nervous when he comes across those types recreationally. Especially when those types seem to have smiles so contagious that they throw every scientific study on germs out the window.

“You want to know about me?” Spencer repeats. He can feel his ears flush, and is thoroughly reminded that he hardly knows who he is.

“Yes, I want to know all your salacious stories Spencer,” Y/N says with a sly smile.

Spencer chokes out a strained laugh before he tries to think of an answer. He can’t remember the last time someone wanted to get to know him. Or maybe he does, and just wants to pretend that those memories died with her. But he can’t, because they are painful and real.

“I’m an FBI Agent, uh the Behavioral Analysis Unit specifically. We track down serial killers and other time sensitive cases,” Spencer says, used to giving the speech about his job on the rare occasion he does talk to another lonely soul at a random bar in a city.

He looks over at Y/N, ready for the reaction he usually gets. Sometimes it’s pity, other times it’s awe. But it all tastes the same with a shot of whiskey.

“That must be an incredibly exhausting job, Spencer. It takes a special kind of person to do that,”

That’s strange, Spencer thinks. Her words aren’t full of pity or awe, but almost understanding. It’s strange, but Spencer likes strange things, after all.

“It is,” Spencer says. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless words that he knows are stale and meaningless. Somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

“How long have you been in the FBI?” Y/N asks. She’s curious, but cautious to proceed and Spencer appreciates that.

“Since I was 22. I’m 34. I’ll be 35 soon,” Spencer says, still not fully believing that he’s spent nearly 13 years at the BAU.

“22, that’s a baby. I didn’t think that the FBI would recruit that young,”

Spencer grimaces, realizing that sooner or later this conversation would arise. He figured it would have come up when he got through the books in an hour or two. Spencer hates having to tell people about his intelligence. He never wants to make someone feel inferior about themselves because of his brain chemistry and genetic lottery.

“I’m kinda smart. Technically I’m a genius but I really hate that term. The idea behind intelligence testing has a very sexist and racist background. Besides, I don’t think true intelligence is accurately quantifiable,” Spencer tells her, repeating his speech usually reserved for arrogant detectives.

“That sounds like something a genius would say. You’re a humble genius. That’s a rare breed, Spencer” Y/N says, that contagious smile turning up the corners of her mouth and threatening to take over Spencer’s.

“I think that’s a compliment,” Spencer says “what about you? Tell me about yourself?” Spencer says, trying to remember the points of the conversation books he used to read as a kid in hopes of making a friend.

“Let’s see, you already know the boys. I don’t have any siblings and my mom lives in Florida, so we don’t see each other too often. I’m a Funeral Director in Alexandria, took it over after my dad passed a couple years,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer responds. Y/N smiles again, clearly a little tense to be talking about a sensitive topic.

“So Second Cat, I take it you’re a Poe fan,” Spencer says, holding to help ease into a more pleasant conversation.

“I like his short stories the best, but Emily Dickinson poetry will always have my heart. There’s something so ordinarily beautiful about the way she writes. She was so brilliant. And her and Susan, that’s a tragic love story,” Y/N finishes. She plays with the hem of her jacket absentmindedly almost like she wants to say something more.

“I first read “The Tell Tale Heart” when I was around 5,” Spencer starts, he rests his elbows on his knees to tell a story and he can’t help but feel a little excited when Y/N leans in a little closer to listen in, “I checked it out from the library and brought it home to read. Now it just so happened that I got a chemistry set. I will not incriminate myself but I may or may not have used the set as the directions intended,” Spencer says, holding up his hands in innocence.

Y/N scams him with a calculated stare, it’s not mean or judgmental, but cautious and careful. It’s like she’s deciding if she can trust him or not. He supposes she does when she winks back and says, “I’m sure that’s true Agent Reid,”

“It’s actually Dr Reid, but I’ll get there another day,” Spencer says quickly, eager to get back to his story, “so the chemistry set had some chemicals, the kind that won’t hurt kids. But I stole some sodium chlorate from the local gardening store and a pack of gummy worms from the Mini-Mart. Then I got back home and took out the chemistry set. I drop some of the sodium chlorate and gummy bears into the test tube and it starts to glow!” Spencer says, his voice gets excited when he remembers the experiment. There’s very few happy moments of his childhood, and this is one.

Y/N, listening to him eagerly, wears an excited expression as Spencer continues with the story. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone so interested in what you have to say.

“How does Poe fit in?” Y/N asks. Spencer’s fingers make a “1” as if to tell her to be patient.

“So I do the experiment and there’s pieces of molten gummy worms in my hair and on my clothes, but then I hear my mother walking up the stairs so I panic,” Spencer says, he’s an animated storyteller and Y/N is a captivated audience. He tries to not pay close attention to how her eyes hardly leave his or how they seem to be looking at him with wonder. But it’s hard to ignore that when you’ve never been looked at like that before.

“I scramble into my bed and shove the experiment under the bed, and it’s still smelling like burnt chemicals and gummy worms, mind you. And I pretend to read, but I’m reading The Tell Tale Heart, which you know is about a man who’s trying to cover up a terrible deed but literally shoving it under the floor. You know I think my 5 year old mind exploded that day,” Spencer says, he leans back so his head rests against the wall.

“It must have made quite an impression on you at what 5? How on Earth did you read Edgar Allen Poe at 5 years old? I didn’t read that until like Freshman year of high school,”

“I told you I was kind of smart,” Spencer replies, hoping that it would suffice.

“Yeah, but like a child prodigy that must have been very lonely,” Y/N says in a voice that tells Spencer she knows a thing or two about being intensely lonely.

“No one ever says that,” Spencer says in a hushed tone, “no one ever gets that it’s a lonely thing being a genius,” he finishes, putting air quotes around genius to show his discomfort with the term.

Y/N nods, “I’m not a genius by any means, Spencer, but I was an only kid. Part of me thinks it’s my fate to lonely,”

“I’m an only kid too,” Spencer says, “when I asked my mom why they didn’t have anymore kids she just told me why mess with perfection. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a built in friend,”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, I tend to do that, but do you want kids?” Y/N asks, she twists a ring that’s wrapped around her finger over and over like it’s a bad habit. She looks at him, expecting an answer, from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” Spencer says in a quiet voice, terrified that he’ll reveal too much to this enticing woman with eyes that never seem to want to look anywhere, but his.

“So did I,” Y/N tells him. Her voice mirrors his in it’s guarded, yet scared to reveal too much tone. Spencer is too busy hiding his own worry to recognize Y/N’s.

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts, determined to end the stale silence that settled between them, “of what book I thought you’d like. It’s actually a personal copy of mine. I had know clue how these things work, but I thought we could write notes in the margins. You know our thoughts and ideas about the book,”

Y/N gazes over at Spencer intently, as if she’s trying to think of how she’ll respond. Spencer notices the way Y/N pauses to think before she speaks, he tries to subdue the profiler training that ebbs to the surface, but he can’t control what his instincts tell him. He knows that Y/N is holding something back, but then again, so is he and who is he to judge.

“You’re okay with writing in a book?” Y/N asks, “I know that could be touchy for some,”

“Most of my books have little writings in the margins. I always thought that a book is a love letter from the author to the reader. You get to see inside their mind and to me that’s incredibly personal,” Spencer says, rubbing his palms that grew sweaty on his pants. It’s useless, because they just slide off.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I brought a book too, but it doesn’t have notes,” Y/N says, “but if this works out, I’ll do it next time?” Y/N asks him, the hope in her voice apparent.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Y/N,” Spencer says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingertips against Y/N’s. Her hand keeps on creeping closer to Spencer’s, he thinks that she’s trying to send him a signal, but Spencer feels too wounded, too raw to take that first big leap.

“So,” Spencer starts, he decides to clasp his hands together to avoid this new predicament, “what book did you decide on?”

“Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, it’s one of the few books that is perfect,” Y/N says, putting emphasis on the “perfect,”. Spencer thinks that he can grow to be eager to wait each week for the hour or so he’s able to watch Y/N speak with such passion and love.

“I’ve heard about, but I generally read technically books and other that it’s mainly just books that aren’t in English,” Spencer tells her, he rummages through his bag, looking for his book for Y/N.

“Close your eyes please,” Spencer says, he hides the book behind his back, he smiles as Y/N’s absurdly contagious smile grows.

“Come on Spencer, I don’t like being teased,” Y/N whines, faux pout and all.

Spencer grabs her hand and guides it to the cover of the book, The Goldfinch. He lets go of her hand; his practically stinging from the way her fingertips pressed up against the back of his hand, even though it was only for a couple of seconds.

“The Goldfinch” Y/N says, “ooh how on Earth did you know I love Donna Tartt?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” Spencer says, a surge of confidence bolstering him enough to wink at Y/N.

Spencer watches as Y/N flips through the pages of her book. Spencer read it a couple of weeks ago and loved the way the author intertwined the mystery to create a riveting story. Spencer checks his watch, realizing that nearly two hours have passed since he and Y/N sat on the couch.

Just as Y/N goes to say something, Spencer’s phone rings, ripping him from his modest paradise. He gives Y/N an apologetic look and mouths “work” as he steps away from Y/N.

“Reid,” he says, he forgot to check the caller ID, a little too excited to finish this call and get back to Y/N.

“Is that seriously how you greet your favorite person in the world?” the voice, presumably Garcia asks.

“Garcia,” Spencer says, unable to hold back his slight annoyance.

“I know it’s time off, but I guess like male serial killers don’t respect women, they don’t respect our time off either,” Garcia quips.

“I’ll be there in 20, I’m out and I’ll need to get my go bag,” Spencer tells her, preparing for the inevitable.

“I know exactly where you are, Spencer. A little birdie told me you’d called him in panic. I really hope your lady friend appreciated your lavender shirt,” Garcia says. Spencer can hear the click of keys as she talks.

He rolls his eyes, but knew that this was to be expected, “Later, Garcia,” he says, hanging up the phone call. Spencer walks back over to Y/N, whose face is buried in the book. She twirls a pen in her right hand, like she’s thinking about what she’ll write in the margins.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to cut this short, work emergency,” he explains to an Y/N understanding Y/N, who nods her head.

“Don’t worry, text me that you got home safe, please,” Y/N tells him, looking up at him with genuine worry in her eyes.

“I promise, Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” Spencer says, grabbing his book and making his way up the stairs. He reaches the top flight when his phone buzzes.

Y/N: I mean it :)

Y/N: It was nice meeting you officially….

Spencer reads over the messages as he walks, replaying the interaction in his head. It’s strange to have someone care if you make it home say. The only people on Earth, besides Spencer’s mother, that care if Spencer makes it home are the people that risk their lives with him as well.

Spencer shoots a quick message back.

Spencer: I promise and I hope you like the book, it’s very special to me.

Y/N: I’m sure I’ll love it! Now go save the world :) :)

Spencer smiles to himself as he reads the message, amazed that her contagious smile can make its way through the string of code from his smartphone. As he drives off, Spencer thinks about the way Y/N actually listens to him or the way her hair sees fall perfectly into place. He thinks about her laugh and the way she almost makes him feel safe in the short time he’s known her.

But all those good thoughts amount to nothing, when the biggest thought on Spencer’s mind revolves around the shiny ring that sits on her left hand on the finger between her pinky and pointer finger.

A wedding ring.

-TAGLIST- (Comment to be added or if I forgot to add you)

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Thank You For Reading

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x reader series #criminal minds fanfic #it's delicate #spencer reid it's deicate

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bichlordstories · 3 years

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12: a promise.

~~~~~~~

Coming across dogs in the park was nothing new to you. You enjoyed the little things like petting dogs of all different sizes and shapes.

What was a little different was the fact that this dog in particular was alone.

The bulldog had a collar, but no leash.

At first, you assumed that it was one of those dogs that was well behaved enough to not need a leash, but after having it follow you around and seeing no sign of the owner, you had a feeling that the dog might have been lost.

You dropped your groceries to the ground and sat on one knee, beckoning the dog to come over to you.

The dog scampered over to you and sat down, letting out heavy puffs of air.

You lifted a finger and held the tag up for you to see its- or his name.

“Tank.” You said and turned the tag.

Once seeing the phone number, you immediately brought out your phone and tapped the numbers onto it.

As the phone rang, the bulldog next to you let out a loud fart, causing you to stare down at the dog.

“...better out than in.” You said.

“What?”

You almost jumped at the tired, gruff voice that spoke into your ear.

“Uh...” you said.

“Whoever this is, I think you have the wrong number.” The voice said.

“No, wait, I have your dog.” You interrupted.

“What.” The voice said before the sound of shuffling sounded in the background, than stomping.

After a minute of the sounds, you heard the man curse under his breathe.

“May I know where you are right now.” He asked/demanded.

“We’re in musu park.” You said as the dog next to you laid against your leg.

The man immediately hung up, leaving you in the silence. You turned to look at the dog, to which the bulky dog looked up with his tongue hanging out.

It had been over 30 minutes since then, and you were sure the cold stuff in your bags were growing warm, some of them melting.

A couple girls walked by, giggling and looking at you and the dog with blushes on their faces.

You watched the girls walk past you without turning your head, boredom clear as day on your face before looking back down at the dog.

“Look at you, getting the attention of girls.” You said to the dog, to which he let out a groan.

You almost couldn’t hear the stomps of someone heading your way. Almost.

“Tank!”

Well, if you didn’t notice the large man before, you definitely noticed him now.

Your eyes widened in recognition when seeing your teacher approach you two.

“(L/n)?” Sekijiro exclaimed in surprise.

“Sekijiro-sensei.” You responded.

The man hesitated before bending down and picking up the dog, who groaned at suddenly being lifted.

“I did not know you would be here... my apologies for my dog.” Sekijiro said while bowing a bit.

“He wasn’t any trouble...” you said.

Awkward silence ensued.

“Well... I must-“ Sekijiro spoke, only to be interrupted.

“I didn’t know you had a dog, sir.” You said, eyes trained on the bulldog being held like a toddler.

“...sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” You said.

‘...does this kid like dogs?’ Was what Sekijiro thought before smiling down at you.

“It’s no problem. Yeah, I’m a big dog person.” He said and readjusted the bulky dog.

“Would you like to pet him?” Sekijiro asked.

Your eyes lit up, but only for a moment, before you nodded.

Oh yeah, you were a dog person.

The dog licked its droopy muzzle as you pat his wrinkled head.

“Do you have a dog yourself?” Sekijiro asked, only to receive a frown.

“No... I wish I did though...” you brought your hand away from the dog, which let out a groan/whine.

You looked down at the groceries as if remembering that you bought them and quickly picked them up.

“Maybe when I finally move out, I can get one... if I ever do, that is.” You said and began walking down the direction.

“Huh, what does that mean?” Sekijiro said while walking next to you holding his bulldog.

“It’s nothing, forget i said anything.” You said immediately.

Sekijiro frown in concern but decided to drop it.

“So... where are you headed?” He asked.

“Home.” Was what you said.

“Oh right, you have groceries...” Sekijiro laughed uncomfortably.

More awkward silence. Minus the rugged panting of the bulldog.

“I’m guessing you’re heading home too, huh?” You tried breaking the awkward silence. It was hard, especially since this was your teacher.

Nobody wants to see their teachers outside of school.

“Yeah, today is my day off, which is rare. Also gotta get this big boy home.” The buff man said before baby talking his short but stocky dog.

You let a rare smile slip onto your face before hiding it with a cold, empty look staring forward. Sekijiro smirked at you, giving you a cheeky side glance.

“I saw that.” He said.

Your face turned red and you quickly turned away, unintentionally puffing out your cheeks.

“Saw what? I don’t know what your talking about, sir.” You dismissed, only turning more red when the man laughed.

The dog groaned in his arms before farting, making the man gag and hold his dog away from him.

“Serves you right.” You said.

“Serves me right? All I did was see you smiling-“

“Sir, if I may be allowed to tell you to shut up?”

“Permission not granted- god, Tank, did you eat something off the streets???” Sekijiro grunted, crinkling his nose at the dog and his smelly butt gas.

You hid a smile better than the last one, but you were still caught by the older man, who proceeded to tease you.

That day, not only did you learn that your teacher had a dog named Tank, but he also lived in the house next to yours... which was a shock... but it is what it is.

Later...

“Oh, hello! I almost didn’t see you there for a second!” A familiar voice said.

You looked up to see who you almost crashed into, only to see All Might... but deflated. You just got back late from PE after showering the blood from your body. Your hair was slicked back, only 50 percent dry and still damp.

“...hm.” You let out in disinterest.

The man smiled nervously, not knowing what to say. What can he say? The truth?

...actually, yeah.

Yes, he should. You deserve to know.

Toshinori breathed in through his nose before exhaling.

“(L/n)... I have something to tell you... it’s important... and I want you to-“ but then he stopped.

You stared him straight in the eye, waiting for him to continue.

No no no no... not like this...

He will tell you... just not right now, in the middle of a hallway in UA...

He wasn’t even sure you knew about all of his secrets, if he told you everything right now, you would be beyond overwhelmed. Beyond furious.

Toshinori cleared his throat, forcing down the blood and bile that threatened to shoot out of his ‘stomach’.

“Sorry, nevermind...” was all he said.

Damn he just wasn’t good at this, was he?

As Toshinori brushed passed you, your eyes followed...

“All Might...”

All Might paused at your voice, hesitating, before turning around to look at you.

“Huh...?” Was all he said.

“Has that boy, Midoriya or some shit, ever trained before he met you?” You asked.

All Might stared down at your back in surprise and didn’t say anything, allowing you to continue.

“Did he ever struggle for much? If so, then why is he the way that he is?”

“I don’t... understand...” Toshinori said.

“I’ve worked day and night to get here from the age of 5. I lost my social life because of my damn quirk. And I had no help with my training and future, yet that brat was given the opportunity of a life time and major support on a silver platter.” You hissed our the last part.

“(L/n)-san... did you want to inherit my quirk...?” Yagi asked hesitantly.

You turned to face the man, and as you locked eyes with him, they grew harsher, angry. your teeth were bared and appeared to grind against each other harshly.

How fucking dare he asked such a question after everything you’ve been through!

“No, I don’t want your stupid fucking quirk! I already have a quirk just like yours, I don’t need to be more like you!” You snapped.

The volume of your voice took All Might by surprise, especially what you said. No doubt someone heard you shout...

“I’ve been reminded time and time again that I’m an All Might wannabe, that my quirk is a knock off! So no, I don’t want nor need your stupid quirk!”

You paused for a moment or two before continuing.

“The problem is that you could have chose anyone else. Anyone that wasn’t so fucking gullible. Did you choose him because he didn’t have a quirk? There are others without quirks! Others that struggled for less and came out better than him! More realistic!” You threw your hands up.

“You chose a kid that struggled but never changed! You chose someone who didn’t learn shit from anything! What’s the fucking point of someone if they can’t grow the fuck up and learn??? He can’t even handle being called names or any form of degradation! I’ve seen how he was when he trained with you! The only thing that even changed was his arms and legs, and that’s it!”

“(L/n)...”

“You wanna know what I did when I was called a villain, a monster, a mistake??? I didn’t piss myself crying, I used that to fuel the very thing people feared. I became a fucking god amongst sheep, amongst people who wouldn’t amount to anything!” A crooked smile grew on your face as you spread your arms out as if to say ‘look at me’.

All Might fought the urge to take a step back and held his tongue. You let your arms fall to your side and the smile fall from your face.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do... when the sports festival arrive, I will fuck that successor of yours up.”

You stuck your hands in your pockets while staring directly into All Might’s soul.

“I'm going to show you that I am nothing like you.” You spotted something green peeking out from behind a wall down the hallway from the corner of your eye but kept talking.

“And I'm not going to be in that brat's shadow anymore, I promise that.” You finished before brushing past the tall man.

You could see the bush of green hair disappear behind a wall as you approached it, but decided not to bother yourself over it.

You knew who it was. The shithead was terrible at eavesdropping...

Whatever, he can eavesdrop all he wants.

It won’t stop you from pummeling him to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~

Yay! We get more Sekijiro daddy time and we meet his bulldog!

You can kinda see near the end of Mc’s rant, they kinda start losing it a bit, calling themself a god and all that.

That is partially due to their quirk unconsciously activating halfway through their rant.

Something to know about their quirk is how quickly they go ‘beast mode’ depends on their mood before activating their quirk.

If Mc is furious, ‘beast mode’ would start activating almost immediately, making Mc more delusional and outright impulsive.

‘Beast mode’ will make Mc do things that they would never do otherwise, and say things threatening.

Soooo anyways...

We finally getting to sports festivals!!!!

Yey.

#bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #Blood sport

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

You Found Me - Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: Language? Somewhat? Oh and some self doubt, but not a lot. There is a looot of angst though. This is part of a two part oneshot. Hope you enjoy the feels.

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Character(s): Gabriel, Dean, Sam, Castiel

You were worried, to put it simply. Gabriel had told you three weeks ago he'd start to change. That he would take you out more. See you more in general. Not go off to Chuck knows where, doing who knows what.

You were worried. Yeah. That's the word. You were also pissed. Pissed he hadn't answered your prayers at all in those three weeks. Dean and Sam and Cas had all been through all the ways to try and bring him back, figure out what was going on, except to summon him. You had insisted that be the first thing they do, but Cas had intervened. He had said that if Gabriel was gone somewhere, that it was probably good reason. And that he would answer them in other ways.

But look where that got you?

"Look, kid, I know you miss your archangel douche of a boyfriend but-" Dean starts, looking up from the table he sat at in the main library. You rolled your eyes and looked up from your lore book on angels.

"But what? Dean? He might actually be in real danger! And you're sitting there--eating take out!" You exclaim, gesturing to his heart-attack-inducing food in front of him. Dean immediately gave you an offended glare and wrapped an arm around his food. You rolled your eyes again, and then put your eyes back to the book you were reading. No one would tell you the summoning for an archangel. And since the only archangel that would be able to be summoned would be Gabriel, you figured your chances of getting his ass back here were pretty good.

"Come on, let him live a little! I mean, I don't like the guy but every now and then, a guy has to have his alone time. Find himself. I did it. Sam's done it more than once." Dean reminds. You shake your head. Dean continues. "What I'm saying is maybe you should stop trying to summon him and let him come when he's ready. I'm sure he's fine, alright? He would have let you of all people know he was in danger if he was." Dean reminds again.

You grumble and slam the book in your hands closed. "You know what? I'm done. Done with you, and Sam, and Cas's petty excuses! It's like you don't even care!" You exclaim, and stomp out of the library.

You stomp off and slam the door to your room closed, locking it behind you as you collapse onto your bed, wishing and praying for Gabriel to return.

He hadn't returned in three weeks. Not even when you were in danger on hunts and you prayed to him. It made you question if he even loved you anymore. The thought of it made you sick. But it was possible.

You felt your chest heave and tears began to pour from your eyes as you sat back up and pulled the book from where you had dropped it beside the bed. You began wiping away your tears only for new ones to take their place. You opened the book and kept scouring the pages as a knock came to your door. You immediately hid the book under your sheets and then stood up, and went to the door.

"Who is it?" You ask.

"Castiel. Dean said you were upset."

"Go away Cas. I'm fine. Just distraught over your damn older brother, nothing new." You grumbled, walking away from the door and sitting back on your bed.

A flutter of wings sounds and you look up, finding the trenchcoated angel standing at the foot of your bed. "Y/N... Gabriel will be okay. I promise." He says, looking at you with as sincere enough eyes as an angel can probably muster.

You let out a sad chuckle. "Really Cas? Same speech as last time? I just want him back... I don't want to lose him..." you say, hugging your arms for a moment as you fight the incoming tears. Castiel walks over and wraps his arms around you in a comforting hug, letting you wrap your own arms around him as he holds you. You're appreciative of the gesture as he lets you cry, and lays you down on the bed when you fall asleep. Your first real sleep in days.

~~~~

When you reawaken, it's later in the day, around midnight. You sigh and check your bed, seeing the book still there. You bring it out and start flipping through it, until you find it. And after a few quick translations, find out what you needed for summoning your absent boyfriend.

You write a quick note of the ingredients you needed, and then got up. You had some of the ingredients. But lacked two. You needed some herbs and some leaves that were hard to come by. So you needed to talk to someone.

"Yeah, those'll do. Thanks. I'll be down to pick them up in a few hours. Thanks." You say, hanging up on the friend who owed you a few favors. He had some of the ingredients that you needed. And all you needed now was to put it all together. And say the chant, of course.

You were walking out of your room, when Sam stopped you. You raise an eyebrow as the tall, moose-like man stood in your way.

"Uh...Sam? What are you doing?" You ask, a bag of essentials on your back.

Sam gives you a bitch face. "Really? You really don't think I didn't see you sneak that book into your room? I've read it. And it has what we've been telling you we shouldn't be doing. Wait it out. Alright? I promise, it's all gonna be okay-" Sam starts.

At this point, you were done of hearing that. After so many instances of Dean, Sam, Cas, hell, even Charlie saying it, you were done. Absolutely done. So you snapped.

You immediately shoved Sam out of the way as soon as his guard was down, pinning his sleeve to the wall with one of your knifes. Sam calls out to Dean to alert him of your escape, but you're too quick. You race up the stairs behind you and then you exit the bunker, racing down the road as adrenaline fills your veins.

You didn't dare take the Impala, knowing Dean would kill you if you did. He rarely let Sam off the hook when he took it. So what's to say he wouldn't kill you?

You finally slowed down near a gas n' sip, and found an abandoned car. You went into the store for a moment, and picked out a few of Gabriel's favorite sweets. You took them to the counter and payed for them before going back outside, and hotwiring the abandoned car.

The adrenaline had finally left you after you'd been on the road for awhile. You'd left your phone at the Gas n' Sip, so you weren't able to be tracked. Damn Sam and Charlie's hacking abilities.

You finally pulled up to your buddy's place around 4 am, and parked in their driveway.

"Damn, Y/N, you look great for three years gone." Your old pal Brad said as he opened the door. He opened the door for you to come in soon after, drinking a beer.

You smile but shake your head. "I'm sorry, but this is an urgent hunt. I need those ingredients now." You say. Brad chuckled.

"Really? You ain't gonna sit down and tell me how you've been with those... those uh.." Brad starts.

"Winchesters." You remind, nodding a bit. "Yeah uh... not now. I don't exactly have the time. But uh... I promise, ill come by soon. Okay?" You promise. Brad chuckled.

"I'm just messing with ya. I know you're busy. Just lemme know if I can help at all. Okay? Any time of night or day. I've got open ears." Brad says, smirking at you with a broken smile. You smiled and nodded.

Brad soon disappeared behind the door, and after five minutes returned with the herbs you needed.

"Take care now. Call me if you ever need anything else." He says as he sees you off. You nod, and wave back at him as you climb back into your stolen car and pull back onto the dark road.

It wasn't until 5 am that you found the place. It was old, it was rusty. It was perfect. You found an old table and set everything up. You used your lighter and lit up the ingredients, soon after uttering the chant.

"Rah ah gah ee oh es Vee nu nohno kee ah seh peh teh poh ah ma lah deh zod" you utter, and a bright light enters the room. You shield your eyes and wait a few moments before you hear him.

"Really? You're resulting to summoning me?" Gabriel grumbles, looking at you annoyedly. "Im busy, Sugar." He says.

You weren't listening. You were merely relieved that he was okay. You walk around the table, and then wrap your arms around him, almost too tightly.

Then he pushes you away.

"Sugar, please. I'm busy. Can't this wait?" Gabriel asks. You look up at him dejected.

"Busy? You're just 'busy'?" You ask, venom and hurt in your voice. Gabriel looks a bit hurt by your words, but doesn't react otherwise.

"You promise me that you'll spend more time with me, cuddle more, hang out more, watch more movies, but no. No you're 'busy'" you hiss, looking at Gabriel with tears in your eyes.

"Yeah, I am. I’m not gonna keep having this conversation right now. Like I said, I'm busy. I have somethings I need to do." He says, looking at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. You stomp forward and you grab his collar. "You know what would have been appreciated? Gabriel? If you would let me know you were okay! I've been worried about you this entire time! 'What if he's been kidnapped and he's being tortured? What if it's my fault?' Wow, but you're too busy!" You spat, shoving him back and turning away from him.

Gabriel sighed. "Y/N, please, okay? I couldn't get back to you. And besides, this isn't something you should be worried about. I don't understand why you were so worried-" he says. You nod your head as you turned back around. You were done.

"Why am I so worried? Gabriel I have lost so many people, so many. So yeah, im sorry that I just don't want to lose another. Especially not you. But no, you can't understand that, can you?" You growl back. Gabriel rolled his eyes and went to speak again.

"Don't twist my own words against me-" he starts. You shook your head and pointed in his face.

"No, no you need to listen. You, don't understand how hurt you've made me. How badly, I kept thinking about myself. Thinking that you just didn't love me anymore. So you know what? I'm done. I don't care of you still do, or still don't. I'm done." You snap, shoving him back as you toss the altar over.

Gabriel goes to speak again, panick filling his eyes. But you shake your head.

"No, Gabriel. You've done enough damage." You hiss. "Come find me when you understand how I felt." You say before you cut your hand and start drawing a sigil on the wall.

"Sugar, please, we can talk this out-" he starts, walking towards you just as you finish the sigil and hit against it with your hand, sending him back wherever you'd summoned him.

You felt tears re-emerge from your eyes as you walk out of the building and climb into your car. You turn it back on and start driving down the road, sniffling a bit as you decided that enough was enough. You stopped by another Gas n' Sip and walked up to the pay phone.

You dialed a number in after using the last of the money you'd brought. After a few rings, the line picked up.

"Hey Brad... mind if I cash in that favor?"

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #gabriel x reader supernatural #spnfandom #spnfamily #spn fanfiction #gabriel x reader #gabriel #dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

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