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titularkilljoy · 3 years

Text

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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poisonedapples · 3 years

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Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test.

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react.

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

#roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts remus #ts janus #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #foster au #implied past abuse #past abuse #stealing

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Three (Harry Styles)

a/n: part 3 wohoo! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, it keeps me going and writing more and more! originally i thought it would turn out to be about three parts, but it has outgrown that limit so i added two more parts to the masterpost, that’s for sure is gonna happen but i might even add more?! not sure, im still in the writing process so i can’t tell how long it’s going to turn out to be, but this just means even more content for you guys!

as always, feedback is very much appreciated, please make sure to share your thoughts and comments on the part, it’s such a huge boost for writers to read what you thought!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

When you were working at the daycare you couldn’t focus on photography as much as you would have liked to. You often had to stay in for extra hours, wait until the last kid was picked up and then do paperwork, or change the decoration in your room or whatever Clair asked you to do that day. By the time you got home you just wanted to take a bath and fall into bed. You also had to travel 40 minutes to work which took away a lot of time from your day.

Working for Harry helped you immensely with focusing more on your passion. Even on his worse days he got home by six and since your workplace is your home, you don’t even have to drive forty minutes to enjoy the comfort of your home, you just walk up the stairs to your room and that’s it.

In addition, taking care of Izzy, you still have the chance to work on some editing or snap new pictures. You have time off when she has her classes and when you put her down for her nap. The best thing is that Izzy is quite interested in photography, she gets very interested whenever she sees you bring out one of your cameras and she always lets you take pictures of her, posing and goofing around. The folder on your computer that has her name is growing each day with more and more sweet photos of the little girl that has completely stolen your heart. You’ve been regularly getting your favorites shots of her printed and you always leave them on Harry’s desk so when he gets home he sees them and they make him forget about whatever happened at work that day.

You are getting more and more emails about possible sessions and slowly but surely, your weekends start to fill up with weddings, birthday parties and engagement photoshoots. It seems like you have definitely made the right choice when you took this job. No doubts.

“Can I ask a question, daddy?” Izzy is poking the peas around on her plate as the four of you sit at the dining table at dinner. Ruth has joined you today, because Harry had to make a quick trip to his office in the afternoon and you were out shopping with Trevor today.

“Sure, baby,” Harry hums nodding.

“Why don’t you eat meat?” she asks seriously, eyeing her own plate that has some chicken on it, while Harry’s is only stacked with veggies and potatoes.

“Because I decided that I won’t want to.”

“Can I decide that too?”

“You’re a little too young for that, baby. You need the meat to grow big. When you’re older you can think about what kind of things you want to and don’t want to eat.”

“Okay,” she nods without throwing a tantrum about her dad telling her no. You know quite a few kids who would have flipped over it, but not Izzy. Harry might not even realize how good of a job he is doing raising her and teaching her how to be a good human.

“I have another question,” she announces, glancing up at Harry.

“Go ahead.”

“If you don’t eat meat, does that make you an herbivore?”

You can’t push down a chuckle, you were not expecting this. Your eyes meet Ruth’s over the table, she is enjoying this conversation just as much as you do. It’s cute how Izzy put two and two together and made a seemingly logical conclusion.

“We learned about herbivore dinosaurs this week,” you inform Harry, who is a little lost about why his daughter just called him an herbivore. Also, you’re quite impressed that she remembered the word, though she struggled with it at first, but it seems like it finally stuck.

Harry shakes his head chuckling as he sets his fork down, looking over at Izzy.

“In a way I should be called an herbivore, but that’s not what you call people who don’t eat meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods, wrapping up the information in her head as she keeps eating.

You and Ruth clean up after dinner while Harry gives Izzy a bath, a little earlier than usually, because she spilled apple juice on herself, so he decided to just go straight for the bath instead of changing once more before bedtime.

“Will you be fine with putting these away, Darling?” Ruth asks as you’re drying the last few dishes.

“Sure! I’ll take care of it,” you smile back at her as she nods and heads into the living room.

Harry emerges from upstairs with a freshly cleaned Izzy on his arms. As soon as her little feet touch the floor she bolts over to join Ruth in front of the TV while Harry walks into the kitchen just as you put the last dish away.

“Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts and suddenly, you feel your stomach drop, especially because his face seems very serious.

“Oh God, what did I do?” you ask, feeling yourself panicking already.

“Nothing! It’s not like that!” he chuckles softly, realizing you kind of misunderstood the situation.

“Okay, good. Sorry, you just looked so serious.”

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. So two friends of mine that I work together with also are getting married soon. They had a photographer booked already, but the guy cancelled on them and, um, I hope you don’t mind, but I recommended you to them.”

“Really?” you ask in complete surprise.

“Yeah. Actually, they saw a picture of Izzy that you took in my office and we started talking about how you do photoshoots in your free time and then I told them to ask if you’d be up to do their wedding as well.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you, Harry. Thank you!”

“I gave them your number, they’ll probably call you sometime next week or so.”

“Great!” you beam, excited about the new event you can work at. “I hope they’ll want to work with me.”

“I kind of hyped you up for them and they seemed very pleased with the pictures I showed them, so I’m sure they will want to,” Harry chuckles softly, even blushing a little. It always amazes you how a tall, muscular guy with so many tattoos can be such a soft, caring and loving person. It always reminds you not to judge the book by its cover.

“Thank you, Harry. This means a lot to me.” Reaching over you place your hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze before moving past him to join Ruth and Izzy in the living room.

Harry was right about Sarah and Mitch being all excited to get in contact with you, because they don’t even wait for the next week to reach out. Sunday afternoon you are working on some more editing at the dining table while Harry and Izzy are painting on the other end of the table, busy with their masterpieces when your phone starts ringing, an unknown number shown on the screen.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answer it, leaning back in your seat.

“Y/N, hi! My name is Sarah Jones, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, Harry gave me your number this week.”

“Oh! Sarah, yeah! So nice to talk to you!” you beam and Harry’s eyes snap up to you at the mentioning of the familiar name. “Harry mentioned you’d reach out and don’t worry, I’m happy to chat.”

“That’s great. I wanted to wait until Monday, but truth is that we are kind of in a short of time and I was afraid you’d be already busy for our date, so I wanted to call you as soon as possible.”

“No worries.”

“So first and foremost, I’m gonna ask if you have anything planned on the last weekend of May. I know it’s just in a few weeks, but I really hope we can work it out.”

“Let me pull up my calendar,” you tell her as you open up the app on your computer that you use to keep track with your sessions and events. Finding the weekend in question in it, you smile at the empty space. “Good news, seems like I’m free that weekend.”

“Oh thank God!” she breathes out in relief and you let out a chuckle. “That’s so amazing. So then would it be possible to meet up sometime next week? You could show some more works of yours and we can discuss more details, how does that sound?”

“This week? Well I have to work—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.

“Come into the office tomorrow morning.” “What?”

“Put her on speaker,” he smiles nodding towards your phone and you do as he asked, setting it to the table with Sarah on speaker. “Hey Sarah!”

“Harry, hi!”

“Aunt Sarah?” Izzy’s ears perk up, some pink paint on her cheeks that you have no idea how it got there, because her painting doesn’t even have any pink in it.

“Hi Izzy! So good to hear your voice!” she chuckles through the phone.

“Sarah, you’re gonna be at the studio Monday morning, right?” Harry asks and you can’t not notice how his voice changed the slightest bit as soon as he started talking about business.

“Yeah and Mitch is coming too,” she confirms.

“Okay then how about you come in tomorrow morning, Y/N?”

“But what about Izzy?”

“She can come too. I’ll look after her while you discuss the details, it’s no big deal. It’s been a while since the last time she came to work with me,” he smirks over at the little girl, who is already excited to spend some more time with her daddy at his workplace.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling.

“Thank you, well then I’m okay with tomorrow if it’s fine for you as well, Sarah.”

“That would be perfect! Thank you guys both, Mitch and I really appreciate it.”

“No worries,” Harry nods, going back to his painting. You take Sarah off the phone as you say your goodbye before ending the call.

You start Monday off with some extra excitement. Not just because you are about to get booked for another event, but also because it’s going to be the first time you see Harry at his workplace. He has been quite good at keeping his business separated from his private life, it never really happens that you catch him dwell about anything work related whenever he is home and around Izzy. The phone call with Sarah was like a tiny glimpse of what he might be like when he is in work mode and you’re kind of curious to see more of this side of him.

Just as usual, Harry takes care of Izzy in the morning while you get ready on your own. You want to look good, not only are you going to meet more of his friends, but people he works with. Or should you say, people who work for him.

You choose a light pink dress, throwing a white knitted sweater over your shoulders with a pair of ballerinas. After putting on some light makeup and grabbing your purse and laptop you head downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. Izzy is already sitting at the table, still in her pajamas since her and food are a dangerous combination and Harry always makes sure to get her dressed once she is away from all of that.

“You look so pretty, Y/N!” she beams, her legs dangling from the chair as she digs into her oatmeal. Harry appears from the kitchen and he has the same look on his face like when he saw you leave for that wedding a while ago. A blush paints his cheeks as he slows his steps down, his eyes running down on the length of your body before they return to your face.

“Izzy is right, you look… really pretty, Y/N,” he compliments into your face, unlike last time when you only heard him call you pretty when he thought you were long gone.

“Thank you,” you breathe out with a soft chuckle.

The morning carries on as usual, Harry dresses Izzy for the day and then you all head out, however you stop short upon seeing the various cars parked on the driveway and the double garage.

“Maybe take the Rover, it’s got the child seat in it and I’ll take the Jaguar today,” Harry suggests as he hands you over the keys to the Rover and then nears the car he is taking for the day.

“Oh yeah, you just take the Jaguar, boss,” you chuckle under your breath, finding it a little funny that deciding on which car you’re taking for the day is even a question in someone else’s life.

Izzy sings along the radio as you follow Harry’s car into the label’s building. Of course, it’s not just some simple office building, it’s situated in the riches area of the city and the building is massive with loads of floors and a huge HES Records sign above the entrance where you meet Harry after parking down.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles! Hello, Izzy!” the woman behind the front desk smiles widely immediately, standing up from her chair to hand Harry a stack of envelopes. “Your post, sir.”

“Thank you, Veronica. Have a nice day,” Harry nods in her way as the three of you move through the hall to the elevators. Waiting for it to arrive, you glance at the board on the wall that lists everything you can find in the building and the level you should look for it at. There are endless amount of studios, at least three on each levels, offices, creative rooms and conference rooms. It’s pretty clear that HES Records manages a lot of talents and that requires a lot of space.

Arriving to the twentieth floor, which is of course the top of the building, you are in awe as you realize that the whole floor is basically Harry’s office. There’s a kind of hall area for his two assistants, he has his own conference room, his kitchen and dining area and of course, his office space. The whole place screams power and influence. The modern design of the interior makes it such a fancy work space not just for him, but for everyone else in the building. It’s truly impressive.

“Wow, Harry. This place is… amazing,” you breathe out as he walks the two of you into the conference room where Izzy immediately climbs up to one of the chairs, standing up so she can lean onto the table. Harry walks behind her and adjusts her so she just sits before she could fall off.

“Thank you. I really like this place too. I always thought it’s important to have a great place to work at,” he smiles, clearly proud of how far his business has come. “There’s a mini fridge over there, feel free to take anything you’d like. Sarah texted me on the way here that they’ll be here shortly.”

“Great, thank you,” you nod, taking a seat next to Izzy as you set your laptop up. The glass door of the room opens and one of the assistants peeks inside.

“Mr. Styles, Mrs. Wonstein is on the phone asking for you.”

“Oh, alright, give me a minute and I’ll take it.” The assistant nods and walks out. “Izzy, come with daddy a little, alright? Let Y/N do her thing.” “She can stay, if you want. I can look after her,” you tell him, but he shakes his head as Izzy climbs off the chair and running over to him, she takes his hand.

“No, just focus on this one. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Harry,” you smile with gratitude as the two of them walk out, leaving you alone. You start scrolling through your folders, wondering which photos you should show Sarah and Mitch, picking out some of your favorites while you wait for them, though they don’t take too long to arrive. Soon enough the glass door opens and the lovely couple walks in.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Sarah greets you, wrapping you in a warm hug before stepping aside.

“Hi, I’m Mitch, nice to meet you,” the groom-to-be smiles shyly as he pulls you in for a short hug as well.

“Good to meet you guys too,” you smile back at them as you all sit to the table.

“Thank you so much for meeting us in such a short notice. Our photographer bailed out on us and I was starting to really worry when Harry mentioned that you are doing this kind of stuff in your free time,” Sarah explains.

“No worries. Would you like to go over some of my previous works?” you offer and they both nod in excitement before you start clicking through some old projects.

They share their vision for the whole wedding and the kind of pictures they would like and you like their approach and feel like it’s right up your alley. They both seem to like what you show them and Sarah compliments on how well you are able to catch small, but important moments.

“The wedding won’t be too big, just friends and family, but we do want a lot of memories, it means a lot to us,” Sarah explains and you nod, noting everything she says.

“Harry said you like this oldschool kind of vibe in your pictures,” Mitch chimes in.

“Oh, yeah. I like to make them look like they weren’t taken on a digital sometimes.”

“Do you think you can make some of those for us as well? Not all of them, just a couple,” Sarah asks.

“Sure! It’s more about the editing process, but it’s totally doable.”

You go over a few more things, making sure you’re on the same page, but you feel like things are working out perfectly. Though you guessed they would be great people, it’s still nice to work with such a nice and professional couple. You’ve had some crazy ones before, they definitely don’t make the job easy on you, but it’s not the case right now.

“Okay, so are you sure the date is okay for you? We wouldn’t want you to cancel on anything you had before just because we are Harry’s friends,” Mitch assures you, but you give them a warm smile.

“I’m totally free, don’t worry. Harry doesn’t have that kind of advantage here,” you chuckle softly.

“Thank you so much in this case. You’re truly a lifesaver,” Sarah breathes out in relief.

“Thank you for the trust. I’m really looking forward to working with you guys!”

Finishing up the meeting you pack up, chatting a little out of the business talk with Sarah and Mitch as you head over to Harry’s office.

“Hey! How did it go?” Harry asks as soon as the three of you walk in. Izzy is sitting at his desk, like a little boss, coloring something as he is sitting on the corner of the desk.

“Amazing, we owe you one for suggesting her,” Sarah sighs and you can’t help but just chuckle at how thankful she really is that you could help them out.

“You owe me no more than just one dance at the wedding,” Harry smiles at her.

“Can I dance too?” Izzy’s head perks up.

“Oh baby, you’re not coming to the wedding. You’ll be staying with Grandma, I already told you.” Izzy pouts at her dad, but she doesn’t seem to mind it that much, she quickly goes back to coloring.

“We’ll dance some other time, okay?” Sarah offers her and she nods happily.

“Can I dance with Uncle Mitch too?” she questions and Mitch just smiles down at her.

“Of course,” he hums, curling an arm around Sarah’s waist. “I have a meeting in ten so I’ll head out, I’m gonna pick James up in the afternoon, alright?” He kisses Sarah’s temple before pulling Harry into a brotherly hug. “Y/N, it was so nice to meet you and thank you for everything again,” he smiles at you, enveloping you in a quick hug as well.

“See you soon,” you smile back before he waves his last goodbye and leaves. “Who’s James?” you ask curiously.

“James is our son. He is turning three this year,” Sarah beams proudly.

“Oh! You two already have a son, that’s great! I’ll make sure to snap a bunch of photos of him too,” you chuckle.

“Please, our house is already packed with pictures, but there’s just never enough,” Sarah laughs.

The three of you chat a little longer while Izzy is busy with her coloring, talking about the wedding and whatnot, Harry invites her and Mitch over for dinner sometime and she happily says yes before business is calling her so she heads out as well.

“Okay, come one, little Sunshine. Let’s get home, Rosaline will be over soon for your piano lesson,” you smile down at Izzy who throws all her coloring stuff into one of Harry’s drawers before hopping off the leather seat.

“I’ll see you in the afternoon, okay?” Harry leans down and kisses the top of her head before pressing his lips to her cheek as well.

“Bye daddy, have a good day!” she calls out, grabbing your hand as you head to the door, Harry following behind.

“Mr. Styles, you have a meeting in five with—“ one of the assistants speaks up, but Harry stops her.

“I know, tell him I’ll be down in a minute. And please call Isaac to remind him about his deadline tomorrow,” he asks in that voice again you heard yesterday when Sarah called. There’s just something so intimidating yet exciting in the way he bosses around, but not like an asshole. He is a man in power, but he surely knows how to use it for the good.

“I forgot to talk to you about the time Izzy is spending at my mum’s, please remind me to go over it with you tonight, alright?” Harry asks and you nod as the elevator’s door opens and the two of you walk in.

“Bye daddy!” Izzy waves at him.

“Bye baby, be good! Bye Y/N!” he smiles as the door starts to close.

“See you later,” you smile back before he disappears from your sight.

The meeting with Sarah and Mitch got you buzzing, because it’s gonna be such an intimate yet beautiful wedding and those are your favorite. You can’t wait to start snapping the pictures and make their memories last forever of their big day.

You want to say thank you to Harry for suggesting you to them, so while Izzy is with Rosaline, you make a quick round to the grocery store and get everything you need to make some cupcakes, knowing well Harry loves those. He once told you that he could easily eat a dozen of those if he had the chance, so you think it’s gonna be the perfect way to thank him.

You keep the usual schedule, but after your little learning session in the afternoon, instead of heading out to the backyard to play, you suggest you bake the cupcakes together and Izzy is more than happy to help you.

It doesn’t take long for the kitchen to turn into a warzone, ingredients spilled to the counter all over the place, some music is playing in the background and you’ve been struggling to figure out how to use the different machines around the super modern kitchen.

You go all out with the decorations, you even bought some food coloring so you can make the cupcakes different colors and mess around with the icing and cream as well. You get so busy with the task on hand that time flies by faster than you expected. The two of you are still working on the decorating when the front door opens and Harry walks into the mess you’ve created in the past hours.

“What is doing on here?” he chuckles, seeing Izzy’s hair covered in flour, whipped cream on her nose and cheeks as she is throwing some sprinkles on one of the cupcakes, sitting on the kitchen island counter while you are finishing up another one.

“Oh! I wanted it to be a surprise!” you pout. “Izzy and I are making you cupcakes!”

“Why do I deserve a surprise?” he asks smirking, walking farther into the kitchen as he looks around, finding the mess quite amusing, rather than annoying. Harry knows well enough that it’s not easy to keep the place around you clean when there are kids involved in any process.

“I wanted to thank you for suggesting me to Sarah and Mitch. It was really nice of you.”

“Already told you it was nothing. Of course I suggest them a good photographer if I know one.”

You just smile at him shrugging, because no matter how hard he is trying to play it down, it meant a lot to you.

“Look daddy!” Izzy holds up her cupcake, half of it is covered with sprinkles, the other half is decorated with chocolate chips and she is clearly proud of it.

“That looks great, baby!” he smiles proudly, kissing the top of her head. “You have so much stuff on you, you could easily turn into a cupcake too,” he jokes, making her laugh.

“Be a cupcake with me, daddy!” Izzy beams and before Harry could stop her, she wipes some whipped cream to his face, getting him dirty as well. You gasp before letting out a laugh, Izzy shrieks happily seeing her dad all dressed up fancily and licking the cream off his face.

“Isabelle Styles, you have no idea what you just brought on yourself,” he warns in a low tone, already making Izzy scoot backwards as she is trying to escape, but she doesn’t have anywhere to go, the kitchen island’s edge is right behind her butt. However, she doesn’t realize it and tries to push herself back some more, deeming herself to fall right off, but before anything could happen Harry scoops her into his arms, pressing his creamy face to her cheek, making an even bigger mess that’s already there. Izzy is moving around, laughing and screaming as Harry gets some more cream to his hands, wiping it onto her anywhere he can.

“Oh my God, you are wasting all the cream!” you call him out, but it’s such a sweet moment to witness, you would never blame him for wasting it.

Harry stops attacking Izzy and turns to you with a dark look in his eyes.

“Izzy, I think Y/N looks too clean, doesn’t she?” he cocks his head to the side, exchanging a look with the girl in his arms.

“She does!” Izzy agrees as you start backing away from them. Harry sets Izzy down to her feet, grabbing the bowl with the remaining of the cream. He gets a handful for himself and lets Izzy fill her palms as well.

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” you warn them, holding up your pointing finger at them, trying to escape, but you are kind of cornered against the counter.

“It’s my house, I do whatever I want to,” he smirks, so full of himself and in a blink of the eye, they both launch themselves at you and Hell breaks loose.

They start whipping cream on you anywhere they can and when it’s gone, Harry just decides to go for anything else he can reach. Izzy is throwing sprinkles around while thanks to Harry, flour is flying everywhere, completely destroying the kitchen.

“Stop! No! I surrender!” you scream, fighting back, but it’s two against one.

“No mercy!” Harry shouts, so excited, as if he just transformed into a little boy, throwing mud around.

You grab his wrists when he tries to pour sugar on top of your head straight from the contained, holding him back, but he is so much stronger than you, it’s kind of a lost fight already. You don’t even realize how close he is, your chests are almost touching as he has you pinned against the counter, faces only about two inches away from each other. His wrist slides out of your hold, but he drops the sugar to the counter next to you. You try to snatch it to use his own weapon against him, but he is quick to stop you, forcing your hand down next to your side, but in the process he managed to bring you even closer, flushed against his hard chest and your lips part at the sudden mood change that he must be feeling as well, because the playfulness disappears from his eyes pretty fast and it’s replaced by something entirely different, something you can’t even read, because you haven’t seen it in his eyes before. And then…

Then you see his eyes flicker down to your lips, just a moment before yours move down to his. It’s that moment. It’s that exact moment when you just know you both are thinking about kissing, but you don’t know if it’s going to happen or now. You’re not even sure you want it to happen.

You fucking moron, of course you want to kiss him! That tiny voice in the back of your mind screams at you. In a heartbeat, it seems like he is about to move closer, but then the moment is interrupted and completely destroyed when a woman walks into the house, scaring you to death.

“Wow, it seems like Izzy took over control completely,” she comments, walking further into the house as you jump away from Harry, suddenly very aware of the mess you’ve made.

“Gemma, what—“ Harry starts, but he is quickly cut off.

“Don’t ask what I’m doing here, I literally texted you today that I would come by and you said it’s okay.” She gives him a look before her eyes move over to you as you’re trying to somehow clean everything up, but it’ll take a little longer probably. “You must be Y/N, hi! I’m Gemma, Harry’s sister.”

She steps over to you holding out a hand and you reach for it, but then stop, seeing that your palms are all floury. You both let out a chuckle, deciding to just move over the handshake.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, though it would have been better if we met when I didn’t have whipped cream in my eyes,” you joke.

“Auntie Gemma, we made cupcakes, do you want one?” Izzy runs up to her, holding up a cupcake that was finished, unlike the majority that are going to have poor decorations, since Harry and Izzy decided to use everything in the fight. Now it’s the floor that’s covered with icing, cream and sprinkles.

“Maybe later, sweetie, but they look awesome!”

As you wipe your face with a kitchen towel, you can feel Harry’s gaze on you, your heart beating so fast in your chest, it’s pushing all the blood up into your head that’s already feeling dizzy. What would have happened if Gemma didn’t walk in? Would has he kissed you? Or did you misread the situation and it was nothing just part of the game?

You busy yourself with cleaning up as Harry cleans himself a little with a paper towel before stepping closer to his sister.

“I totally forgot you texted, I replied in the middle of a meeting, I think I didn’t process the message.”

“It’s fine,” Gemma sighs. “I’m already used to my little brother forgetting about me,” she teases him, but he just rolls his eyes at her.

“Let me just help Y/N clean up the kitchen and I’ll be right with you. Would you mind cleaning Izzy off?” Harry asks her, but you stop him short.

“Oh, I’ll take care of this, don’t worry,” you assure him, but as his eyes snap over at you, you lose your voice. He clearly felt the moment as well earlier and now it’s kind of getting awkward, you don’t really want to be left alone with him right now. Not until you figure out what this whole thing was.

“Are you sure? I mean I was the one who started it and—“

“It’s fine,” you try your best to smile at him without overheating. He is standing several feet away from you, but you can still feel what it felt like to be pushed up against him.

Harry hesitates, his eyes following your every move while you are trying to busy yourself and act normal, while you are literally crumbling inside. You almost kissed your boss in the middle of his kitchen, you need a moment to process that.

“Alright, let me know if you need help,” he murmurs before picking Izzy up and heading upstairs to clean them both, Gemma following them right behind. When they are out of your sight, you lean against the counter, breathing out heavily.

Meanwhile upstairs, Harry hands Izzy his phone to play some games while he cleans her and himself off in the bathroom. Gemma sits on the edge of the tub, eyeing her brother curiously, which Harry notices.

“What?” he asks, stripping Izzy out of her dirty clothes.

“What was all that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you, Harry. You were like, ready to snog Y/N right then and there when I walked in. Did I miss something?”

“No idea what you’re talking about and I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up when it’s not just the two of us,” he replies firmly, looking down at the girl who is obliviously tapping on the screen. Gemma just rolls her eyes before leaving the two of them alone.

Wandering down she finds you scrubbing the counters from the mess you’ve made, deep in your thoughts. Seeing her walk in, you shoot her a smile, not sure what to say or if you even should say anything, but when she grabs a towel for herself and starts helping, you speak up.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m happy to help,” she smiles, as she starts cleaning the kitchen island up. “So how do you like working for my brother, so far? He mentioned what happened with the daycare. Honestly, those mothers are entitled spoiled brats,” she scoffs making you smile.

“They weren’t too delightful even before the whole fiasco,” you chuckle softly. “But I really like it here. There are a lot more perks and it’s so much easier to focus on one kid than to have fifteen at a time,” you point out making her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m good with my two, don’t think I could handle more.”

“Oh, you have kids?”

“Yes, two sons. Beau is turning ten this year and Jasper turned six in January.” Gemma pulls out her phone from her back pocket and unlocking it she shows you the homescreen that has a picture of two adorable boys sitting on a bench next to each other, munching on a big bowl of strawberries. The younger one, Jasper has a red sunhat on his head while Beau is rocking some cool sunglasses.

“Oh my God, they look so much like you!”

“I get that a lot and honestly, they really should!” Gemma scoffs. “It took twenty fucking hours for Jasper’s big head to come out!”

“Wow that sounds way too much,” you laugh and Gemma nods with a tired, but clearly proud smile.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. Anyway, after my two boys, Izzy is the little princess of the family.”

“The boys get along well with her?” you ask as you both keep cleaning.

“They act like her big brothers, they get so protective over her!”

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah, they really are. My mom has this summer barbeque every year, if Harry doesn’t invite you with him then I’m doing it now, because you need to see how crazy out family gets,” she smirks at you. “All of our cousins and the kids are there, it’s a whole parade.”

“I’m sure it’s a lot of fun,” you smile at her. “One of my friends in high school had a really big family and they always invited me to birthdays at their place, I loved how lively and buzzing it was always.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to get together from time to time,” she nods smiling. “So do you have a boyfriend or something?” she asks then, implying that she is not even sure if you are playing on the team she is assuming.

“Oh, um, no. It’s just me for now. So no boyfriend for me.” Your answer, making sure it gives her the information she was trying to get as well.

“Are you done interrogating her, Gem?” Harry appears from upstairs, Izzy running ahead of him before smashing herself against Gemma’s legs.

“We’re just having a chat, is that a crime now?” she rolls her eyes. “Swear to God, he is such a control freak sometimes,” she then adds turning to you.

“Would you stop offending me in my own house?” Harry gives him a look. Gemma leans down and picks Izzy up into her arms.

“Izzy, you really should tell your dad to pull the stick out of his as—“

“You are not finishing that!” Harry cuts her off and you can’t push your laughter back. Harry’s eyes meet yours over Gemma’s shoulders and he realizes that you are still all dirty and messed up. “Y/N, go and take a shower if you want. We’ll take this over, alright?”

It wasn’t an order, but you feel like it was a very firm suggestion. He is clearly uncomfortable with you talking to Gemma and though you’re not sure why, you don’t want to upset him, so just nodding you drop the kitchen towel and head upstairs to clean yourself up.

“I hope you didn’t say anything to upset her,” Harry comments as he takes over the cleaning. Gemma grimaces.

“What could have I possibly said? I was just trying to get to know her!”

“You are always a little too up in my business, Gems,” he sighs.

“Daddy, can I watch some TV, please?” Izzy asks, tugging on his pants.

“Sure. Do you need me to switch it on?”

“No, I’m a big girl, I can do it,” Izzy nods before running off, leaving the siblings alone.

“Didn’t know Y/N was your business,” Gemma tilts her head to the side. Harry opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out. He was caught with this one. “Oh my God. I knew I walked in on something, you have a thing for her!” Gemma gasps with wide eyes.

“Stop with this! You and Niall are like some middle schoolers, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“So Niall sees it too, huh?”

“Niall is an idiot,” he points out. “He is… obsessed with this idea that I should start dating again and he thinks I should make a move on Y/N.”

“Well, he is an idiot, but he has a point.”

“No he doesn’t!” Harry argues, but Gemma just rolls her eyes.

“So you want to die alone? Is that your plan?”

Harry has always hated his sister’s bluntness. She never held herself back when it came to giving her opinion, whether it was wanted or not. But what Harry hates even more is that most of the time… Gemma is right.

He doesn’t want to die alone, no one wants that, but being with someone is a hard topic for Harry after losing the person he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. Even just the thought makes him feel like he is doing something bad, like he shouldn’t even be thinking about anyone but his wife, even years after the tragedy.

“Harry, look…” Gemma breathes out leaning against the counter next to her brother. “I know it’s a fucked up situation and I know things are still not in the right place in your head. But eventually you’ll have to move on. We all want to see you happy and I think that… I think Maggie would want that for you as well.”

Harry tries not to physically cringe at the name, the familiar pain is already clutching his heart, like it has been since the day of the accident. Some days are easier, some days are harder, but Gemma is right. Things are still not in the right place in his head and he knows that, he is just not sure how to fix it at this point.

“I’m not saying you should date Y/N, I’m not Niall to force anyone on you. I’m just telling you to try to get out a little more, just to test the waters. But you obviously like her so if it happens to be her, it wouldn’t be a big deal, if you ask me.”

Gemma shrugs and goes back to the cleaning while Harry keeps his swirling thoughts to himself. Two of the most important people have told him the same thing recently and though part of him wants to stubbornly go against it, his rational side knows that they might be right.

But not much can be done when a man is still blaming himself for the death of his own wife. Because that’s exactly the case when it comes to Harry and no one really knows that the thought has been haunting him for years now…

After taking a quick shower, washing your hair and changing into clothes that are not covered in flour, you join Harry and Gemma downstairs and insist on finishing the rest of the cleaning while they move out to the terrace to talk. The evening goes by peacefully, Harry decides to order dinner and Gemma joins the three of you at the dining table.

You love watching the dynamic between them and they truly seem to be very close. Gemma likes to embarrass Harry with stories from their childhood and you are enjoying them all a little too much maybe, but it’s nice to think that he wasn’t always this confident businessman.

“It was so good to meet you, Y/N!” Gemma hugs you goodbye after dinner.

“You too!”

“Bye Izzy, come and give a smooch for your favorite auntie!” Squatting down she lets Izzy wrap her arms around her neck as she kisses her cheek sloppily.

“Bye Gemma,” she singsongs. Harry pulls his sister into a hug as well before walking her out.

You start washing the dishes, Izzy talking to you about whatever show she was watching earlier on TV. When Harry returns he tells you to just leave the rest of the cleaning up for him while he bathes Izzy, but you don’t listen to him and finish up while they are upstairs.

Bringing your laptop down you settle on the couch and just start scrolling through social media, reading articles and whatnot, the TV quietly playing in the background. You send out an email regarding the wedding you are attending this weekend, making sure everything is in place.

When Harry emerges again he joins you on the couch with a tired sigh.

“Thanks for washing the dishes but you really should just leave it to me when I ask you to,” he smiles at you softly.

“It’s not a big deal, I like to be useful,” you chuckle shutting your laptop down.

“As if you’re not useful enough already,” he huffs smiling to himself. “Oh, before I forget, I wanted to talk to you about Izzy going to my mum’s.”

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned it earlier.”

“Yeah. So she is going to spend a week at my mother’s and I timed it to line up with Sarah and Mitch’s wedding. So I’ll leave her at my mum’s Sunday evening and pick her up the next Sunday which lines up perfectly with the wedding on Saturday. That week is obviously free for you as well, like a paid vacation,” he chuckles.

“Sounds good. How far does your mother lives from here?”

“Just a few hours, not that horrible of a drive. If you’re up for it, we can carpool to the wedding and then pick her up together right from there and head home.”

“Yeah, that works for me, thanks,” you nod.

Harry stays and turns his attention on the TV, seemingly pretty unbothered while you still haven’t stopped thinking about what happened in the kitchen earlier. Glancing over at Harry it appears that it’s not that big of a deal for him, so it makes you settle with the thought that it’s not one for you either.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him grabbing your laptop and phone as you rise from your seat.

“Nigh, Y/N,” he smiles as you round the couch and head upstairs, but you stop at the bottom of the stairs, lancing back at the mop of locks that’s visible from him from behind. You watch him run his fingers through his hair and you let out a shaky breath, knowing well you did not convince yourself that it was nothing. Not for you, at least.

Because you wanted him to kiss you.

The wedding you’re attending is held on a farm owned by the parents of the bride. The whole barn was transformed into this very country like fairytale location, lots of fairy lights and candles along with some nice, pastel colored flowers with a hint of purple between them.

Everything goes planned. Arriving you meet first with the groom and then with the bride in their separated rooms of the house, going over everything they want just one last time before you get down to work, snapping loads of pictures from them getting ready for the big day.

Emily, the bride is a chatty girl and all her bridesmaids are her sisters, coming from a big family with five daughters, she is the second oldest. The groom, Jesse is a few years older than Emily, but they are such a cute couple and they are clearly so madly in love, it’s always nice to see people be so happy with the right person.

You keep going back and forth between the groom and the bride and later you do the first look thing as well, when Jesse stands outside in the field and Emily walks up behind him, letting him see her for the first time. It really is always such a special moment and you tear up as well, watching Jesse fall speechless upon seeing his beautiful fiancé.

As the ceremony is about to start and the guests slowly take their seats on the two sides of the aisle, you make a quick trip down there to make sure you are using the right lenses, not wanting to change a lot when the ceremony has started. You stop in the corner, just trying out if you can shoot some pictures of the guests as well with the lens you are planning to use, you take a look around using the camera and that’s when you almost faint.

You would pick out that face from any, it has grown to you way too much, but you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. Lowering the camera you stare at the tall figure with parted lips, blinking a few times just to make sure it’s who you think it is.

But it is in fact your ex-fiancé, Keith, and to make it even worse, the woman standing next to him with his arm around her waist is the one he cheated on you with. They are still together and now you are staring right at them.

Tears sting your eyes as you try to look for a way to escape before he spots you, though you know he’ll see you sooner or later, but right now they are standing right at the entrance of the barn and you can’t avoid walking past them.

Keeping your head down you try to stay unnoticed as you march towards the exit, but you apparently, you are out of luck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Keith calls after you just when you thought you were successful in sneaking out. Stopping in your tracks you seriously think about just running off, pretending like you didn’t even hear him, but it’s kind of too late and it would be ridiculous. So turning around on your heels, you plaster the fakest smile on your lips as you look at him.

“Keith, hi!” you breathe out, taking just a few steps closer to him, still keeping some distance between the two of you. Stella, the lucky woman on his arm blinks at you and at first you’re not even sure she realizes who you are or if she even knows you. The longer she looks at you the more certain you become that she indeed does not know that you’re the woman Keith cheated on with her. Nice.

Keith realizes that the two of you have been staring at each other awkwardly, so clearing his throat he quickly introduces the two of you to each other.

“Um, Y/N, this is Stella. Stella, this is… Y/N.”

You can tell he was thinking about using titles, but he decided to leave it at that, though it would have been a lot more interesting if he just titled the two of you.

Y/N, this is the woman I cheated on you with, who is my girlfriend now. Stella, this is Y/N, to whom I was engaged when I was fucking you!

You flash her a quick, not too honest smile and it seems like she is catching onto that something is not right, but she can’t tell for sure.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks, a little harsher than you would have liked him to talk to you, but it’s kind of understandable. Seeing each other after what happened is not a pleasant experience for either of you, you assume. You hold up the camera as the answer for the stupid question and Keith furrows his eyebrows at you. “Oh, you still to the photography thingy?”

“Thingy?” you ask, quite offended. Keith always belittled your love for photography. He thought it was just a hobby, something that should stay just a hobby and not get turned into anything more. He once told you during a fight that it takes your time away from more important things, like doing chores. That was one of the most sexist things he has ever said to you and you should have packed your stuff right then and there. But you didn’t, stuck around for three more months before you found out about the cheating.

“Well, this thingy is kind of a side job for me,” you inform him.

“Oh. That sounds… fun,” he nods, but it’s clearer than daylight that he thinks it’s just a waste of time. Good thing he has no business in anything about you anymore.

“Um, I’m gonna go now, but I guess see you two around.” You shoot them another fake smile before turning around and walking away from this conversation straight from Hell.

Marching away from the barn you rush into the nearest bathroom you can find. You need a minute. Or maybe two… five. This did not just happen. You didn’t just face your cheating ex-fiancé with the woman he cheated on you, what kind of sick movie plot is this you found yourself in?

Placing your camera to the counter near the sink you wash your hands and sprinkle some water to your face as well before you lean to the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost and quite frankly, you would have been happier with the ghost than with Keith and Stella.

You’ve been doing alright since the breakup, but it’s obvious that only because you didn’t have to see Keith. Following the blowup when you found the explicit texts in his phone, you only had to face him twice and never since then. It’s easier to be okay when you don’t have to look at the person who hurt you most all the time, but coming face to face with him now really threw you off, especially with Stella on his arm. The fucker did not only cheat on you with her, but he went straight into a relationship with her and she probably doesn’t even know that she was just the sidechick in the beginning. If you were really evil, you’d go up to her and enlighten her about who you really are, but you are not one to cause a scene. Keith kept the two of you apart consciously, he never let you go into his office because he wanted Stella to think that he is a single man while he was engaged. Sickening to think how slyly he played the both of you and even after his little plan failed, he kept lying to the poor girl and lured her into a relationship. You wonder if he is already fucking another girl behind her back.

Your fingers start to turn white, gripping the edge of the sink tightly so you loosen up a bit, shaking your arms and shoulders off to pull yourself together. You fix your makeup and run your fingers through your hair quickly to give it some volume before grabbing the camera from the counter and heading out. However shocking it is to be at the same place as Keith again, you have a job to do right now and the bride and groom are expecting some amazing photos and that’s exactly what you’re gonna deliver.

You manage to busy yourself to the point where you are able to forget about Keith’s existence for most of the time. Following the happy couple around you don’t get too much free time, the camera is glued in front of your face basically and it brings you some peace. For a while.

Emily and Jesse disappear for an outfit change and it gives you a short break since they didn’t want that to be photographed, only when they return. So you get yourself a virgin cocktail from the bar and head outside to get some fresh air. You text back Heather and Trevor and then just scroll through Instagram, enjoying some alone time from the buzzing you’ve been around all day.

“Y/N!”

Turning to your right you spot Keith walking towards you, this time alone, but it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes.

“What do you want?” you mumble under your breath.

“Just… though we could chat for a little. It’s been a long time.”

“Not enough,” you retort. “And I would like to skip the chatting.”

“Come on, you can’t be still that mad at me,” he chuckles and you almost punch him in the face right then and there.

“Well I am. So go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone.”

“I know things didn’t end too well, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil towards each other.” You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your throat. He can’t be serious, trying to act like the bigger person now after everything he has done to you. This has got to be a joke.

“This is me being civil, because I’m not throwing anything at you. So leave me the fuck alone, let me do my job and then we hopefully don’t see each other again.”

“Come on. You don’t miss me, baby?” he smirks at you, completely ignoring what you just told him. You physically cringe at the pet name he just called you and you take a step away from him, needing the distance more than ever.

“I don’t. Now leave.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Too fucking bad. Now leave!” you raise your voice, but it does nothing. He is still standing there, looking at you like he didn’t completely destroy you just about a year ago.

“Heard that you haven’t dated anyone since we broke up.”

“Are you asking around after me?” you scowl.

“We have a few mutual friends,” he shrugs. “Is it because you still want me?”

“My dating life is none of your business, Keith. And I don��t want you. Quite frankly, I don’t even know how I could ever want you, so now please let me enjoy my break and leave me alone.”

“Y/N, I just—“ Keith reaches for your hand, but you pull back before he could touch you, holding up a finger at him you start talking slowly and very clearly so the message goes through.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me or talk to me. I want nothing to do with you, you’re a manipulating, cheating, egoistic asshole who ruins the life of others. I’m telling you this for the last time, Keith: leave me the fuck alone.”

He looks a bit stunned at your harsh response, but you couldn’t care less if you’ve hurt him. He did way worse things to you than snapping at you. As you walk past him to head back into the barn, he doesn’t let the chance to punch you in the stomach with his words one last time.

“I wish I could say you were a good fuck, but that wouldn’t be true. Good luck finding some lowlife loser who would even think about marrying you!”

Every fiber in your body is screaming to launch yourself at him and punch him until he is unconscious, because that’s exactly what he deserves. The tears are already stinging your eyes, but you don’t give him the satisfaction to see you react to his words. So swallowing hard you just keep on walking until you are out of his sight, bottling up the sobs and tears for the time when you’re home and on your own.

It’s past two am when you arrive home, drained and exhausted, both emotionally and exhausted. Following the conversation you had wit Keith he didn’t try to talk to you anymore, but you could always feel his eyes on you, wherever you were, as if he wanted to see if you are watching him too, but you weren’t. Looking at him would have been too painful so you tried your best to keep your eyes away from him through the night.

You know damn well that what he told you when you were leaving was just to get a reaction out of you, to get you upset enough to start a fight with him, it’s just who he is, he enjoys having the last word and the higher ground in every situation, but you didn’t want to be his partner in his stupid games this time. However it still hurt, what he said.

Walking into the dead silent house you kick your shoes off, drop your keys into the little bowl next to the door and head to the kitchen to get yourself some water. Pouring yourself a glass you lean against the counter and as you stare ahead of you, nothing can stop the tears from falling.

Everything you kept bottled up during the afternoon and evening just hits you all at once, making you break down heavier than any time in the past months. You sob and cry, letting it all out until your head feels like exploding, but you still can’t stop. You were not ready to face the man that broke your heart like no one before.

In the middle of your breakdown you don’t even realize the footsteps coming from the stairs.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice calls out, snapping you out of your pity party. He immediately sees that you’ve been crying like a baby, no doubt, but you still try to wipe your cheeks and eyes, pretending like everything is totally fine.

“Harry! What are you doing up so late?” you breathe out hoarsely.

“Just wanted to get some water, but have you been crying? What happened, are you alright?” he starts bombarding you with questions, clearly worried about you, seeing you in this state.

“Everything is fine, I just… had a rough night,” you chuckle through your tears that are still rolling down your cheeks, those bastards!

“A rough night doesn’t make you sob like this. What happened?” Rounding the kitchen island he stops in front of you, not sure how to approach the situation, but it’s kind of sweet how he wants to help, but doesn’t know how.

“I, uhh—I met my… ex-fiancé tonight. He was at the wedding I worked at,” you mumble shutting your eyes closed.

“Did he hurt you? Y/N, if he laid a hand on you, I swear—“ “No, he didn’t hurt me,” you shake your head before adding: “Well, not physically.”

“Come on, let’s sit down for a bit.” He gently takes your hand and pulls you to the couch in the living room, making you sit before he plops down next to you. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s really stupid, I shouldn’t be this upset about it, but I just… It hurt and I can’t change it,” you whine, wiping some more tears away.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid. Tell me what happened!”

“He was there with the woman he cheated on me with. They are basically a couple now, but she doesn’t even know that Keith was engaged to me when they started dating, so it’s really fucked up. And it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, because, you know, fuck him, he can do whatever he wants, it’s not my business anymore, but then he came up to me and tried to chitchat with me, which I didn’t really want, of course.”

Harry listens carefully, giving you his undivided attention while you fumble with the hem of your shirt, kind of avoiding to look him in the eyes. Part of you is afraid you’d see judgment in them and you don’t think you would be able to handle that.

“I asked him to leave me alone, but he just kept talking and then I snapped at him a little harsher and when I was walking away he…”

You scowl again, hearing his words play in your head so clearly, as if he was standing behind you, repeating them to you. Harry reaches out and he gently covers your hand with his warm palm, giving it a gentle squeeze, letting you know that he is patiently waiting, not rushing you to talk. Taking a deep breath you blink your tears away before continuing.

“He basically said that I wasn’t even a good fuck and no man will want to marry me.”

“Jesus fuck, what kind of asshole did you date, Y/N?” Harry snaps in horror and it’s kinda funny, makes you laugh through your tears.

“Seems like the worst kind,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. “I know I shouldn’t have let his words get to my head, but… it’s easier said than done. I feel like such a loser,” you breathe out, your lips trembling as the tears are threatening to flow again.

“Don’t blame yourself for having feelings, it’s completely normal. Of course his words hurt, he once meant a lot to you and he probably knows that too, that’s why he tried to use it against you. What he said held no truth.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper as you finally look at him. His green irises appear so warm as he smiles at you, squeezing your hand again. He scoots a little closer, his knee bumping against the side of your thigh.

“Y/N, I know so,” he chuckles. “That guy was a proper idiot for what he did to you. You didn’t deserve any of that and any many would be lucky to have you as their wife.”

“Really?” you pout, feeling so touched and loved from his words. It’s exactly the reassurance you needed.

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling sweetly.

Everything that happened today messed with your head big time. And now sitting with Harry on the couch, listening to him telling you how worthy you are of love and happiness, it completely throws you off. Ever since that moment in the kitchen before Gemma walked in, you’ve been nonstop thinking about what would have happened and it made you notice even the tiniest things about him.

Harry Styles is a man who is clearly a sight for the eyes, with his chiseled jawline, pink lips and gorgeous green eyes, the duality of his powerful and business appropriate attires he wears during the day and the tattoos hidden under his dress shirts, you’d have to be blind to say that he is not an attractive man. But on top of everything on the outside, he is a wonderful person on the inside and it twists your head more than you’d like it.

Your brain switches off for a moment, or just the rational side, but you completely stop thinking as you stare at each other. The intimacy and emotionality of the moment pushes all your common sense to the side as your gaze wanders down his lips.

The thought of kissing him comes fast and before you could even stop yourself, you move forward and press your lips to his. The touch of his lips against yours is sweet and warm and kind of intoxicating, but in just a blink of the eye your rationality gets a grip of you and your eyes pop open in realization of what you just did. Pulling back you gasp and cover your mouth in shock, feeling your whole inside trembling at the thought of getting yourself fired by this move.

Harry seems frozen and quite shocked as well, his lips are parted as he stays still in his spot.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what’s gotten into me! Harry, I’m sorry, I promise—“

You start rambling in panic, but you don’t get to finish. Harry moves forward, his hand coming to the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss, this time making it a lot more passionate and even your tongues get involved. He is kissing you hard and you almost moan into his mouth when you feel his other hand come to your thigh, squeezing it just enough to send a shockwave up your spine. Your hands come up to the back of his hair and you hold onto him for dear life, carrying the kiss on like you’re two teenagers in your parents’ basement, doomed to get caught any moment. Harry goes in again and again, tugging on your bottom lip, licking into your mouth and making your insides twist just from having his lips on yours.

And then you both let go of each other, needing some time to breathe and you slowly realize what just happened. You both stare at each other in disbelief, completely shocked at your own actions, but neither of you have any idea what should happen next.

You let go of each other, sitting back to your normal positions, awkwardly breathing heavily and you realize you cannot deal with this right now. You are way too drained and tired to make it make sense so you decide to just… call it a night.

“I’ll head to bed,” you quietly inform him as you stand up from the couch, walking like a zombie, the shock still clouding your judgment.

“Good night,” Harry mumbles, just as confused as you are.

“Good night,” you nod and basically sprint up the stairs and don’t stop until you shut your door behind you.

Leaning your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare into the darkness for long minutes. Quite some time passes by before you hear Harry walk upstairs, his door opens and then closes before silence falls on the house again. With a blank mind, you push yourself up, take a quick shower and just go to bed, ignoring everything that has happened today. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

Text

PAIRING. huang renjun x fem! reader. GENRE. high school! au, suggestive. WARNINGS. attempted murder, mentions of blood and self injury, veryy descriptive kissing, mc has a few screws lost, swearing, depictions of unstable behavior. WORD COUNT. 1.8k GENRAL TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @leejunini @astroboy-lele @unknown5tar @yunoyeol @w0nni3wrld @charm-art @bat-shark-repellant @keemburley @deliciouslyyellow (pls dm me to be added/removed!)

NOTE. ah yes, the only two genres: murder and making out. inspired by the dream i mentioned earlier. different events, but same vibe HAHA. disclaimer that no matter how much you hate your academic rival, never ever turn to attempted murder! thank you and enjoy

huang renjun— with all his picture perfect smiles, prim and proper tucked in shirts, a pretty face enough to have you on your knees, and with a perfect gpa to top it all off— was someone you wanted.

wanted six feet under the ground.

“hey, congrats!”

speak of the fucking devil.

“you always do really well,” huang renjun towers over you in front of your desk as you sit down. you look up from the wrinkled certificate that have the abhorrent words second honorable mention printed on it's scented surface, only to face his fucking face instead. he beams at you with a smile. you feel convulsions wringing inside your throat. “congratulations again.”

you don't miss the first honor certificate tucked between his books in a measly attempt of concealment. it takes everything in your power to force out something of a smile.

“thanks. you too.”

with that, he quickly scurries away into his seat next to yours with red ears.

your first period teacher enters, beginning class with a greeting, but your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only midterms, you breathe out through your nose, hugging your arms above your desk while sketching out a study plan for the rest of the semester in your head. there’s enough time before graduation. the hold you had on yourself gradually becomes tighter.

still, you know that even if you worked yourself day and night until you bled cold and crimson, huang renjun would still be one step ahead. you bite down your lip, peeling off the dry skin with a sourness writhing in your gut, digging your fingers deeper into your arms. if only he were gone. you leer at the boy diligently taking his notes beside you. if only he were gone gone gone gone—

your eyes widen, ignoring the blood staining your nails.

if only he were gone.

after class, you walk up to his desk and asked if he wanted to work on the physics homework at his place tomorrow. he says yes with starry eyes in a heartbeat.

the next day, renjun couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring. you, too, couldn’t remain in your seat— albeit for a different reason. so when the ringing occurs, the both of you don’t waste a second in finally heading out of the campus.

it’s a silent walk to his place, a standard suburban neighborhood, the sky slowly turning orange in the background. every time you turn your head to look at him, he looks back with a small smile, and you can’t help your hands from twitching at your sides.

renjun unlocks the door and meekly welcomed you inside.

“you can leave your shoes here,” he says, digging his keys into the back pocket of his school slacks with dangling noises. you look at him, smiling, and with a soft hum you leave your school shoes next to his, trailing behind him into the living room.

looking around, you ask him. “are your parents home?” there was an opening that leads to the kitchen, glass doors showing the backyard. the stairs that lead to the second floor are made of sleek, dark oak. it’s a modern interior. they have a fireplace inside.

“no,” he breathes out, wetting his dry throat with a swallow before turning back to face you. “they’re out on business. i don’t think they’ll be home until the weekend.”

the both of you stop right in front of the staircase.

“i see.”

he quickly muffles a cough and leads you up to his room.

the inside of renjun’s room is neat— organized books on the shelf and sheets neatly pressed. There’s a set of candles beside his bed. you hold back a scoff. as expected from the top student.

your eyes flit over from the window above his bed to look at him, instead.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, you know,” you muse, dropping down your bag to join him on the floor. worksheets littered with numbers and constants, gravity and acceleration, all scatter on the floor. they blow with the wind knowing that they wouldn’t even be filled in, anyway.

“sorry,” renjun sputters out, loosening his striped necktie with two fingers. his vision is kept trained on the wall behind you. “i’m not— i’m not doing it on purpose.”

you adjust your legs on the floor, skirt riding. “is there a reason?”

“a reason?” he gulped.

“why you can’t look me in the eye.”

renjun thinks he sees the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

“i’ll— i’ll go open the window, it’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” scrambling to his feet, his knees sink into the navy sheets of his bed, reaching for the window in a nervous flurry to let the air in. “the news said that the temperature’s slowly gonna start rising but i didn’t think it would be—”

he bumps into you when he turned back.

there’s a click from behind him.

the wind stopped coming in.

“it’s not really that hot.”

the way your breath fanned against his lips makes his head spin in circles.

you have an arm out against the glass, your sleeve’s fabric grazing his tempered cheek when you went to shut the window down. renjun feels a ghost in the air where there’s a space in between you. “i— i guess you’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “i never expected that you’d ask to work together.”

there’s syrup at the end of your sentence. “you seemed pretty happy when i did, though.”

he isn’t sure if it’s just him or if you’re slowly getting closer. “well, that’s— that’s because i—”

“you don’t have to say it.”

your voice digs deep into his bones like chains of velvet. he can feel your chest pressing against him now, crushing the sense of rationality that he was bestowed with from birth and is replaced with a warm lush of rabid, violent waters gushing into bit of him stomach,

it comes off a whisper yet it sends him reeling.

“i know.”

renjun swallows. hard. but he’s afraid you’d hear the manifestations of a tempered restlessness that had managed to crawl its way up to the tips of his fingers— which found themselves resting onto the curve of your back. stray strands of his swair sweeps above his eyes, obscuring the closeness of your face, and he wants to ask how. how did you know that he likes you.

he never got to.

the question doesn’t even get to resurface after the first hit of your cherry flavored chapstick, his bottom lip caught in between yours, teeth grinding against the plush, pink skin. the second hit has his decorum slowly peeling away from his skin when his tongue traces over yours in a hot mess of delirium, when you settle between his legs, a coarse groan vibrating in his throat. the third has him forgetting his own name.

his eyes are hazy when you pull back with a rough smacking of the mouth. with a short-winded voice, you ask him.

“do you mind if i make a call?”

renjun looks at you in a fit of breathlessness.

an airy laugh leaves your lips that he can’t stop staring at. you press a kiss on his nose. “my parents need to know that i won’t be going home tonight.”

dazed, he answers. “y-yeah, sure.”

he blinks a few times before letting you go.

“take your time.”

you send him a smile before fishing your backpack from the floor and leaving the room.

just like that, a switch was flipped.

upon closing the door, you quickly twist the knob, locking it with the keys that you’d snatched from him earlier. it’s convenient that he has each one labelled— a belated thank you to your school’s ever organized golden boy who never fails to make you sick in the stomach.

at each wall you pass, you make sure to seal the windows shut and have all the doors closed. the contents of your bag make steady pangs against your back as you shuttled down the stairs. you lock the back door shut, close all the windows, turn on all the lights, and throw a match into their fireplace, waiting for the fire to come to full bloom. all that’s left is the kitchen.

there’s no time wasted in turning everything on— the microwave, oven, and the stove until you can't crank them any further. embers fly into the air. it’s getting hotter. you duck down to the compartment under the stove to reveal a white painted propane tank, taking out a cordless soldering iron to seal the safety relief valve close. you place a rag over the opening valve and twist it halfway through. a hissing sound whizzes through the air.

with that, you leave through the front door, locking it for good measure. his keys disappear into the bush nearest to their porch.

it’s only a matter of time until huang renjun ceases to be a pest anymore. if not for good, then at least lethally injured.

you head home to finish your physics worksheets that were due tomorrow.

for the first time in god knows how long, you wake up and head to school with a well rested air.

you take your things out of your backpack, humming a soft tune right before the bell rings for your first class. your other seatmate— donghyuck— notices your unusual cheery demeanor, and inquires about its oddities. you simply answer him with an allusion to finally being free. he laughs it off and turns his head to the chalkboard.

five minutes before eight. the doors creak open. you’re ready to stand and greet your teacher until you realize that it isn’t her.

it’s not.

something nauseating knocks into your lungs and stifles your throat, eyes wide and stinging. it squeezes your neck with poison prickling the surface.

huang renjun enters the classroom with his usual nods and smiles to everyone he passes.

“holy shit, dude. you look like hell.”

“i didn’t get any sleep last night,” he laughs, lightheartedly. “guess i’ll have to sleep through recess.”

your teeth grind against your lips, supple skin turning redder at each nip. your nails leave scratches on the desk as you rattle in your seat, thinking, thinking, panicking. each breath feels like choking on pulverized copper in sulfuric air. there’s a ringing in your ears and you hear nothing except your own voice screaming why is he here why is he here why is he here?

he doesn’t go to his desk. he’s standing right in front of you.

“you look well.”

it sears your fingerprints off your skin.

you don’t answer, don’t even look at him. he breaks into a small smile and leans forward, one hand pressed against your desk and the other reaching for a lock of your hair as he nears and nears and nears. “there’s something here,” he says.

there isn’t.

“you left my window unlocked, baby.”

his hot breath hits your cold cheek, tucking a strand behind with a smile. to everyone else, it would look sweet— heart fluttering. to you it was a death sentence. renjun breathes out a contained chuckle into your ear before letting his hand fall on your shoulder, a tight grip at the last second.

“better luck next time.”

#NCT-WRITERS #cznnet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #huang renjun x reader #renjun x reader #huang renjun x you #renjun x you #nct x reader #nct x you #huang renjun scenarios #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #huang renjun smut #nct smut

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phonecallwithsatan · 4 years

Text

Picture

a.n.: Hi everyone<3 I am currently listening to: Stay True by Men I Trust. I was feeling so down today but I tallked with some friends and now im cranking out Spencer Reid fanfictions at two in the morning. I hope you all love this idea!!

Reader finds something they were not expecting to find among Spencer’s belongings. Fluff, .8k words, short & sweet. Gender Neutral

✬

“Y/n, can you get my wallet from our room?” You finished off the last lines of your book so you wouldn’t lose your page as you smiled at the use of “our.”

Spencer had found out about Amazon Prime last night after a package came to his-- well, now your apartment. He added about thirty different books to his wishlist, and five of them were coming tomorrow with a click of a button. “Actually, just bring my card. Please.”

You got up from the couch and ran a hand through his hair as you did, feeling his locks go through your fingers. You let go and you felt him humph from his position on the loveseat.

A few steps later you got to your shared bedroom. Spencer always forgets to turn the lights off, you thought to yourself. He kept his wallet in either his pants or jacket pocket or his satchel so you scanned the room for either of those options.

You spotted the brown satchel and you walked over to its position on the foot of the bed. You crouched down to it and flipped it open and spotted his wallet.

It was a basic black leather wallet that fits perfectly in your palm. You flipped it open to search for his Visa. That was when you saw it.

A photo Spencer had taken of you on his bed. You remembered this day because it was the first time you had spent the night at his house. You pulled the photo out of its hidden spot to examine it some more.

It was an impulsive decision to stay over because he didn’t want you to leave and neither did you. You didn’t bring any clothes and he gave you a dark blue Caltech t-shirt that was a bit big on you.

You remembered when you took this photo because he caught you totally off guard. You were reading a novel you picked up from his bedside table upside down to see how long it would take for him to notice. You didn’t know, but he was taking photos of you.

You were on his bed with your head and back propped up against the headframe, legs laid out with your left knee propped, the blue t-shirt, and an upside-down novel Spencer was reading at the time.

This one was his favorite out of the bunch. It was why he had it printed out you guessed.

You stared at the small photo in your hands- not as small as a passport photo but smaller than a basic polaroid photo. You didn’t know he had this printed out and on him at all times. Roughly said, the photo was taken over three years ago.

You pushed the photo back into the place it was in and you took the visa out of its section.

“Y/n, I have forty minutes left before my one-day shipping ends!” Spencer yelled from the other room and you snorted while placing the wallet back into his satchel. You turned the lights off in the room and walked out to where Spencer was.

You gave him the card and he muttered a small thanks without tearing his eyes off the screen. You didn’t understand why you had to bring him his card though, he has an eidetic memory so technically he would have remembered the numbers. Regardless, it wasn’t a hassle. You actually ended up finding something super cute.

“Done. Arriving by six tomorrow. Will you be home?” He stretched an arm out across your shoulders and you scooted over to him.

“Yeah.” You turned to look at him and you touched his cheek with your right hand while the other was placed in between your thighs. “How long have you had that photo in your wallet?”

He didn’t really respond to your inquiry. He just smiled and looked down at his computer, closing it with his right hand as well.

“I wasn’t expecting you to find that,” you smiled at him as he looked up. “Does it bother you?” You shook your head no and let him continue.

“I printed them out the next day on my way to work. I even have one on my desk.” He laughed as you scolded him for having a photo of your bare legs on his desk where his coworkers pass every day.

“It doesn’t bother me at all.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and opened up his computer to look at more Amazon finds as you two spent the rest of the night expanding your Wish List.

#spencer reid #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer #spencer x your name #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #reid x y/n #reid #reid x you #reid x your name

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penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Every You, Every Me (a Leon Goretzka story) chapter II

I know it’s been a while, but I re-wrote this part maybe seven, eight times, only to settle on something completely different. Hope you like it, and I apologise if it is a bit too long (you know me). Tell me what you think about it, every heart, message, and reblog means much more than you can imagine. It needs some editing, but I will get around to do it sometime later.

Part I

Sofie rested her hands on her waist, overlooking the mountain of clothes piled on her bed — different shapes, colours, patterns and prints, interlacing and weaving in an incomprehensible bundle on top of her comforter. She didn’t know where to start, and for a moment, she wished she could wipe it away with a snap of her fingers, and be over with it.

She was tired after having a sleepless night, and she was hungry, but she had been putting it off for too long, and she knew it had to be done.

Shaking her head a bit, Sofie picked up a pair of black, over-the-knee boots from the top of the pile — the soft leather feeling smooth against the skin of her fingertips. She remembered the day when she bought them, matching them with a strappy top and a mid-calf, satin skirt — cashing out the last cents of her scholarship money in the outfit, hoping to catch his eye.

The confidence she felt when she made her way through the crowd in the outfit she couldn’t afford and with her makeup and hair immaculately done, trying to fit in with the people he invited to his birthday party — it all felt ridiculous and a bit childish in retrospective. The glances they shared across the room, the smile on his face when he opened the present she got him, the random touch of his fingertips against her bare back when he guided her to the bar, and the clearest of them all, the bitter taste in her mouth when he left with Yvonne — the girl he ended up dating for the next six months.

As she watched his figure walk out with his strong arm around the pretty blonde in luxurious dress, Sofie knew that the best thing would be to just give up, as any sane person in her place would, but she just couldn’t bring herself to listen to her brain. Instead, she booked a hairdresser the next morning, dyeing her hair in lighter colour and waited for him to notice it, feeding on the crumbs of his attention and sticking to it like a moth to the flame.

Yet, she was blind, diving deep into the pit of unrequited love, shedding the layers of her real self along the way, not thinking about consequences or the future.

Sofie breathed out a sigh before lifting up a dress from her bed — short and covered in sequins, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the mere thought of owning it, let alone wearing it. There was nothing wrong with the dress itself, but the cut, length and style of it, it was all, but something she felt comfortable wearing. Folding it gingerly, she glanced back at the clothes in front of her — realisation of how much she had changed herself for Leon hitting her like a train.

Sofie knew better than that.

Sofie was about to throw the dress behind her, in the same pile with her overpriced boots when her phone buzzed loudly on her dresser, startling her. Dropping it back on the pile, Sofie made her way towards the device that was hidden among one too many notebooks and course books resting on the IKEA piece before picking it up and smiling at the name written across the screen.

“You actually did it!” Elle screamed from the other side of the line causing the other girl to twist her lips and move her phone away from her ear for a second. If there was one distinctive separating the two of them, it was the different levels of their loudness at any given moment. “Turn the fucking camera on, and let me see it!” her best friend demanded — her voice still too loud for Sofie’s or anyone's comfort.

“Language,” Sofie laughed, fumbling with her phone, “you are not on the pitch, Ellenore.” Sofie finally turned on the front camera, pulling a face at Elle as her friend squealed with happiness upon seeing her hair, or rather lack of it. “I guess you like it then,” Sofie muttered, patting the top of her head, feeling slightly embarrassed with the attention she was getting.

“I love it,” Elle breathed out. “I was worried at first when you texted, but you have one sexy head, Sofie. How does it feel? Naked?”

“Light and cold,” Sofie responded with a shake of her head, “almost had a heart attack when I woke up yesterday morning and saw myself in the mirror.”

Elle laughed softly, adjusting her large bag across her shoulders as she walked along the small street that led to her apartment block - the red jacket with the Bayern Munich logo zipped all the way to her chin.

“What’s the mess about?” Elle changed the topic, making Sofie turn her head away to look at the clothes and shoes strewn across her bed.

“I’ve been—” Sofie paused to make herself some space before sitting down at the foot of her bed, “decluttering. Or something like that.”

Elle’s face dropped for a second, but she quickly masked it with a supporting grin that Sofie more than appreciated. If anyone knew about the heartbreak and the identity crisis that Sofie was going through, it was Elle.

“Are you getting rid of everything?” Elle asked. “Will you sell it or give away?”

“I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I know that it has to go,” Sofie admitted. She felt the tears glaze her vision, but she quickly gave Elle a small smile, trying to stop herself from being too pathetic. “I’ve made such a mess out of my life, Elle,” she paused, giving herself a moment to bite back her tears, “I could have travelled half of the world with the money I spent on frills and sequins, and I hate frills and sequins.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself, Sofie,” Elle said as Sofie stretched her legs in front of her, “and travelling half of the world is more expensive than you think. Unless you are someone who is comfortable wearing the same harem pants and baja hoodie for more than two and showering once a week,” she added with an innocent smile, and Sofie couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I am just disappointed that I let myself go this far,” Sofie admitted, focusing on the slippers on her feet - soft material worn out and discoloured. “Plenty fish in the sea, and I was pulling on the biggest catch. How silly of me.”

Elle was quiet as Sofie got up, making her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, closing the doors behind her. One thing was keeping herself busy with it, and completely different to stare at it and do nothing.

“Did you talk to him? Or Serge? They are back from Trentino, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from the girls at the training.” Elle stopped to unlock her apartment doors.

Despite seeing that Elle was concentrating on twisting the locks, Sofie nodded, pouring some of the juice from the container into her glass. “I had a missed call from Leon on Tuesday,” she took a small sip of her drink, relishing the coolness trickling down her throat, “and I called back. I know I shouldn’t have,” Sofie whispered, rubbing at her eye with her free hand, placing her glass at the edge of the sink, “but he didn’t mention anything about coming back early. Then again, I didn’t ask either, maybe I should have. And why am I being so pathetic, it's not like we had something going on? It was me running after him...”

“Sofie,” Elle sighed quietly — her voice careful, “I know it’s not easy to deal with the heartbreak, and you shouldn’t keep it inside. I am here, you know that?”

Sofie nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in her stomach despite the juice. “Yeah,” she answered slowly, “but, I hav—” Sofie stopped, running her hand across the top of her head, finding comfort in the simple action of touching it. “How was your training session?” she asked, changing the subject clumsily as the doorbell rang out throughout her apartment. Sofie’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of eating lunch soon.

“Did you order food?” Elle smirked, “sushi? Noodles?”

“Indian actually,” Sofie replied, walking towards the doors through the small hallway before unlocking the massive doors, only to stop in her tracks — the smile she had prepared for the delivery person faltering as quickly as it appeared.

“You know, Serge,” Sofie grinned as she twirled the last remaining of her already cold tea in her cup, “staring at me won’t make it grow back any faster,” she spoke, downing the leftovers of her drink while grinning at her friend over the lip of her mug. He only laughed in response, and Sofie rolled her eyes playfully before glancing briefly at Leon.

Ever since Sofie welcomed them in her apartment, Leon had been acting strange, quietly sitting at the edge of her couch — leg bouncing as he glanced at his phone every few seconds. He wasn’t as talkative as Serge most of the time, but having him say only few words was not a common thing. Sofie felt that there was something on his mind, and that he was going through something, but she didn't know how to approach him without being too noisy.

“I wasn’t staring at all,” Serge replied, still grinning, “and if I did, it’s because it looks really good.”

“Do girls drop their panties for you all the time, Gnabry?” Sofie asked, sarcastically. “Your charm is amazing.”

“I am being honest here,” Serge clarified, trying to contain his laughter, “it does look good. Right?” he admitted, looking towards Leon, but his friend ignored him — eyes still trained on the shiny device. Serge smiled in disbelief, glancing at Sofie with a goofy face before leaning closer to his friend and teammate, nudging him with his knee, “Leon? I am talking to you. Are you even here?”

“Hmm? What?” Leon suddenly asked, looking up from his phone, startled at the sound and motion coming from his left. “Did you say something?”

“Sofie’s new haircut. It looks good, no?” Serge repeated, much slower, stretching out every syllable for the confused German.

“Yeah,” Leon started, giving Sofie a long stare which made her heartbeat accelerate, “yeah, it does,” he repeated somewhat quieter, glancing at his phone again for a millisecond. “Can I make some fresh coffee, Sofie? I feel like some coffee?” he asked suddenly— eyes never leaving hers, and for some reason Sofie felt scrutinized under his gaze.

Sofie was a bit confused with the urgency in his voice, but nodded quickly, watching him get up and straighten his dark jeans in a hurry and putting his phone in the back pocket. He gave her a small smile in response before moving around the coffee table and walking out of the room, not looking back when Serge commented something that Sofie didn’t catch. There was a strange feeling inside of her stomach as she watched him walk out, before she leaned forward in her seat, giving Serge a quizzical look on which he only shrugged with his shoulders.

“I’ll go and check,” she whispered, getting up as well, and quickly following Leon into the kitchen.

He was resting his large hands against the counter, watching Sofie’s cheap coffee machine drip the liquid in the large container. In the small space of her kitchen, crammed with the table, uncomfortable chairs, and way too many plants and random knick-knacks, Leon’s physique was overwhelming. Sofie stood in the doorway, quietly observing him, and nervously bringing her hands together, unwilling to speak out and ruin his peace.

“You’ve been really quiet,” she finally said, moving away from the doorway and stepping inside the room and beside him. She wasn’t the shortest girl out there, but he was still towering over her, especially now that she was only wearing her slippers.

Leon briefly glanced at her — his eyes moving from her eyes to her hair, and down to her lips for a split of a second before looking back at the coffee machine again, making her heart soar. Up close, she could see the fine smile lines around his eyes and lips. He was beautiful.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he answered quietly, rubbing at the stubble along his chin, “didn’t help that Serge chatted my ear off on our flight back to Munich either. He sat with Hummels, but he shooed him over to my seat,” he added, giving her a small, one-sided grin.

Sofie smiled as well, turning around and leaning against the sink — the aluminium chilling her back through her worn-out tee. “He’s got enough energy for the entire squad, no?”

“Indeed he does.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and the only sound was the coffee machine loudly filtering the bitter liquid in the scratched pot. Sofie took a deep breath as she stared in front of herself, focusing on the rotting banana in her fruit basket on the dining table, and before she could stop herself, the words that she was supposed to suppress and keep inside, left her mouth.

“If you want, you can stay and take a nap on the sofa as usual,” she suggested, and almost instantly regretted it. She had created a list of unwritten rules that were supposed to help her get over Leon, and offering him couch to nap on was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I think I will head out whenever Serge makes a move,” Leon quickly answered, and Sofie felt a pinch at her heart. “You seem busy too.”

“As you wish,” she nodded, moving away from the sink as she watched him pour himself a large cup of coffee, dropping a cube of brown sugar in it before taking a small sip. “You sure you’re okay, Leon?” she asked again.

“Yeah, all is fine, don’t worry,” he smiled, giving her another long stare, and under his gaze she yet felt naked and exposed. “Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? Would be nice to catch up. It’s been a while,” Leon asked as she was about to walk out of her kitchen and back to where Serge was sitting, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Leon’s voice behind her.

Sofie took a hesitant breath — her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she still managed to smile when she turned around, giving him a small nod. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

Wrong answer, Sofie.

Wrong answer.

tags:

@footballerimaginess, @littlebitofbluelittlebitofcoffee, @jordanspetkovics, @disneydaddyevans

If there is someone I forgot to tag, please let me know.

#leon goretzka #bayern munich #football fanfiction #footballer fanfiction #footballer oneshot #leon goretzka imagine #leon goretzka fanfiction #leon goretzka oneshot

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earthfire-75 · 3 years

Text

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Four

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie, as I don’t yet have the book.

The next morning, we all sat together to have a filling breakfast of eggs, toast, sausages, cereal, and coffee. Today was going to be a busy day, my job was to acquire the swatches and makeup. The boys would be going out to make photocopied fliers for their first gig, then proceed to staple and hand them out all along the Strip. They had a lot of ground to cover, so we would not be seeing each other until the very late afternoon.

“How does pizza for dinner sound?” Vince inquired.

I nodded, “That sounds good, just bring back a couple of six packs on the way home.”

“You want any toppings?” Nikki surveyed.

Tommy stupidly grinned as he made a lengthwise motion with his fingers towards Mick, “Sausage, extra long.”

I tossed a crumpled up napkin at him while Nikki and Vince laughed, although I found myself chuckling too, “Dude, shut up!”

“Still the same since high school!” Vince applauded.

“Come on you three, we got fliers to take care of,” Mick grumbled.

Tommy turned to him, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this, while most of us are still young.”

Mick gave him a firm punch to the arm, causing the taller man to fumble and complain that he needed that arm. I said my goodbyes and quickly placed my dishes into the sink. There was so much that needed to get done and we were all eager for their first night coming fairly soon. Mick and I stole a brief glance as I walked past him, but I continued onward to my car. Reminding myself that there were more important matters to focus on at the moment and love, or rather lust, should not be one of them.

The guys waited patiently at one of those photocopy express shops somewhere in Los Angeles. They sat around as the fliers printed out from the photocopier, fresh coffee in their styrofoam cups. The young adults talked amongst themselves about how excited they were about the show, Mick just kept to himself as he nursed his drink. Nikki noticed how he seemed a little more quiet than usual, he nudged Tommy and Vince. Cocking his head to the side to find a more isolated area to talk.

“Guys, we need to talk about the old man,” he voiced.

Tommy’s eyes widened, “You’re not gonna fire him are you dude?”

Vince rolled his eyes, “No stupid, he’s talking about you-know-what.”

Tommy was lost, this of course annoyed his friends, but eventually it clicked, “Oh, you mean-”

Nikki was quick to cover his loud mouth, “Shh, shut up, his hearing is still good.” He looked back from around the corner, Mick was looking down at his drink.

“He’s gotta know by now right? I mean it’s so obvious,” Vince presumed.

Nikki sounded doubtful, “I don’t think he has, man. Shit, imagine how crushed she’ll be if he doesn’t say anything.”

Vince nodded, “I know, she’s been pining him for weeks now and he hasn’t said anything.”

“I mean he’s old school, what do you expect?” Tommy added. “It’s not like we could tell him or anything.”

The singer and bassist looked at the drummer, then to each other. They smiled and agreed without a word that was the plan.

“Tommy that’s the smartest thing you’ve said for a while,” Nikki disclosed giving him a good slap on the shoulder.

Tommy nodded in agreement, only to realize what they meant by that and cursed under his breath. But the other two were already heading back. As the group walked back to Mick, they whispered that they needed to be subtle about this. Ease him into it nice and smoothly. Mick noticed them, he could see the moronic smiles plastered across their faces. Here we go again.

Nikki stood by him, “Hey Mick, dude, you excited about this?”

“Waiting to hand out paper that’s gonna get thrown back in our faces?”

Vince laughed, “No dude, I mean like we’re gonna play pretty soon as a band. Aren’t you happy about that?” Vince glanced at Tommy, shifting his eyes to him and then Mick.

Tommy paused and then added, “Yeah man, and like they’ll be a bunch of hot chicks there.” Tommy’s grin subsided a bit, “I mean you do like babes, right?”

The other two exhibited the phrase “Goddammit you fucking moron” in their eyes and strained smiles. This was not how at all they wanted this conversation to go, at least not right now.

“Yeah. And?” Mick responded.

Tommy hurried to think of something, “Well you know, I mean, it’s just that… well I mean there’s gonna be all kinds of sexy ladies out there and… well being how you are-”

Vince quickly stepped in, “I think what he’s trying to say is that, yes chicks are hot, no doubt about that. And we will absolutely be seeing them. But Mick, dude our lives are going to change.”

Nikki breathed a sigh of relief, “Yeah and who knows who we’re gonna meet along the way. Yeah we’ll get to meet managers, groupies, and other bands. But like the road crews that’ll be with us too. They’re pretty important-”

If Mick wasn’t already lost in the conversation, he certainly was now, “Alright enough with the weird-ass fucking pep talk! What the fuck is this Three Stooges bullshit?! Get to the point already.”

Before Nikki could have a chance to continue, Tommy exclaimed, “She likes you!”

If they weren’t in a public place, Nikki would have loved to have done nothing more than to tackle the idiot in front of him. Vince pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, mumbling how he too was going to murder the drummer.

Mick on the other hand was curious, but still spoke firmly, “What did you say?”

Tommy stepped back like a frightened puppy, but repeated himself, “She likes you, a lot dude.”

She? It wasn’t hard for him to realize who they were talking about. Their one-woman road crew. But that couldn’t have been possible, there’s no way someone like her could possibly have feelings for a gremlin like him. Mick still stood, appearing like a father ready to reprimand his son. Yet he couldn’t think of anything to say. There was no joke, dry remark, or veiled insult: he had nothing.

He turned to the others stoically, “You’re setting me up, and you two are in on it.”

Nikki shook his head, “No. She really does have feelings for you man.”

“Alright, enough with the act. Come on, we have shit to hand out.”

Vince held on to his shoulder, “Mick, dude, just listen to us! Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you? She digs you man!”

Mick just couldn’t believe what he was hearing, still he was expecting all of them to laugh and finally let him in on the joke. They were dedicated jokesters through and through, and he already has enough to deal with outside of the band. Something that he believes they’re not ready to know about yet. He moved the blonde’s hand off of his shoulder and pushed the drummer out of the way. He grabbed the copies and headed out to the car.

“Let’s go!” He impatiently reminded them and the others followed him, of course giving Tommy a couple of shoves as they made their way to the door.

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @sophiazeppelinchick @mickmarstookmyheart @gothicfuneralsblog

#my fic #mick mars #mick mars fanfic #mick mars fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #mick mars x reader

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behindheremeraldeyes · 3 years

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damirae week 2021 Wednesday, May 5th - holiday & vacations title: love is in the air summary: When his brother decides to mess with him as a Holiday prank, Damian ends up having to travel in coach like the rest of the mortals. Eventually, though, he learns that turbulence can strike even before the plane takes off.

“What do you mean by coach class?”

His brows are furrowed when he asks her that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. Expectant, green eyes are on the flight attendant in front of him, as he waits for her to provide him a little more information on the matter. She’s growing anxious the longer he stares at her, a nervous tic making her left eye tremble whenever she tries to maintain eye-contact. Apparently, she knows who he is— of course she does— therefore; he believes it’s safe to presume she understands why he’s so confused.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but that’s what your ticket says.” She explains, her voice laced with nervousness as she shows him the printed paper with his name written on. Damian is not blind— far from that, actually. He can see all the information written on that paper, but no matter how much he tries, he still can’t comprehend the ‘coach’ part. He has been traveling by plane for as long as he can remember, and never once has he deliberately chosen a seat in coach— in fact, never once has he chosen a seat at all, since he has a secretary of his own. A very competent and well-paid one, for the matter.

Such a primal mistake like this has never happened in all the years they’ve been working together. Something must have happened, he knows.

“I believe there must have been some mistake.” He states calmly, his demeanor unaltered. “Could you please check it again? The people at my company would never make such a trivial mistake.”

“Of course, I understand completely. I’ll try checking it on the system to see if I can find anything.”

Her fingers move rapidly across the keyboard, and he studies her face, looking for a hint of what’s actually happening. She’s still nervous, he can tell, and if anything, that’s not a good sign. It means she’s not finding the problem in the system, and if she’s not finding it, it means the said problem doesn’t exist. And if it doesn’t exist— well— something must have happened at Wayne tech.

How odd, he ponders.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne, but there really has been no mistake. Your ticket was ordered last Wednesday night, and it is as I’ve told you, see?” She turns the monitor so he can see, probably so he won’t hold it against her or anything. “You know, it’s quite common for some of our clients to make this kind of mistake. Perhaps you forgot to select the first class? “

“Highly unlikely. My secretary always double-checks everything.”

“Well, both the coach class and the seat were chosen by your secretary last Wednesday night. Are you sure nothing unusual happened when he ordered the ticket for you?”

“I’m positive. It was a normal Wednesday and— wait.” He suddenly stops. His emerald eyes blink once, twice and a third time, a blank expression taking over his handsome face. ”Did you just say he?”

Once he allows her words to sink in, Damian questions the integrity of his ears. Perhaps, after all of those years fighting crime and handling explosives, they might not be working as perfectly as they are supposed to.

He must have heard it wrong because, last time he checked, Mrs. Miller was not a man. She’s a conservative woman who’s around her 60s, and even if that doesn’t mean a thing anymore, she has never once told him anything about switching genders. If anything, she’s always the one lecturing Jason about finding a kind woman such as herself.

Still, a stranger such as the woman standing in front of him could never know such personal things about Mrs. Miller’s life. Things are not adding up. And for he is his father’s son, he wants to know why.

“Oh, yes. I presume the name Richard belongs to a man, no? It’s the name of the account who’s booked you this flight.”

“Richard?!” He questions, and it only takes him a second to put all the pieces of that silly puzzle together.

Grayson, you bastard.

Now it all makes perfect sense. Of course he had to be behind this childish act. Who else would have enough free time to waste before the Holidays just to prank a busy, young man such as himself? His older brother might be respected by many of their super friends, but more than anyone, Damian knows he is but a child filled with hormones. He probably thought it would be funny to make his little brother travel for hours in coach as a commoner, where he would have to sit next to a stranger.

That worthless manwhore.

However, he won’t let his predecessor have the last laugh. Grayson did this solely to piss him off and throw him out of his comfort zone, therefore, the best revenge should be handling the situation without creating a fuss. Damian is going to accept the conditions without putting up a fight, and his brother’s victory will have a bitter taste.

Yes, that’s how a real man gets his personal revenge. He will endure a six-hours flight home in coach class like a pro, and he will show the first Robin not to mess with the newest generation.

A proud smirk, then, takes over his lips. That certainly should teach him a lesson—well, that and the explosives Damian plans to hide in his brother’s bedroom, of course.

“Mister Wayne, I’m terribly sorry about all this. I—“

“No need to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing for all of these questions now that I know what happened.” He starts, placing his hand on his chest as an apologetical gesture. “You see, Richard is my older brother. He’s not as smart as the rest of the family, so it’s highly likely that he’s made this mistake.”

“Oh, I understand. I guess every family has one of those, right?”

“You have no idea. Now, Karen.” He says, finally paying attention to the name written on her uniform. “I’m incredibly sorry for wasting your time. Without further ado, I will head to my seat.”

“Mister Wayne, you’re very kind, indeed.” She starts, a blush tinging her cheeks. With a staple, she makes small holes on his ticket before handling it back to him. “I hope you have a safe flight to Gotham.”

“Yeah, me too.”

His voice doesn’t sound as irritated as he feels, and that alone is a big victory. Without wasting more of his precious time, Damian walks towards the jet bridge so he can finally board the plane. A couple walks behind him, chuckling as they talk about how much fun it will be to go back home for Christmas.

Going home for the Holidays, huh?

An entire week at the Wayne Manor with his brothers and his father, sharing meals together and trying not to murder each other during their morning exercises. Though Gotham could not get any safer since the whole bat-family will be together, it is also the one time of the year when his murderous instincts are at their peak.

A tired sigh escapes his lips. That’s a problem for another time, he thinks.

Once inside the plane, his eyes search for the signs that will take him to his seat. For the first time in his life, he turns right instead of left— coach instead of first class— and suddenly, a small corridor is in front of him. For a moment, he feels like a cow heading for the slaughterhouse, as many other people are forming a line in front of him.

It’s hard to breathe and even harder to walk with all of those people trying to put their bags inside the upper compartments. He checks his ticket again. D21. According to the numeration pattern, he’s almost there, but he’s still not moving fast enough. All the simultaneous talk is driving him insane, and now he understands why some people choose to dope themselves as soon as they get inside the plane.

He doesn’t have any sleeping pills with him, but maybe if he punches himself with enough strength…

No. He can make it. Things will get better once he sits down and they take off. It can’t possibly get any worse than it already is, right?

Right?

A curse is muffled under his breath, and finally, he reaches his seat. For he knows how to travel light, Damian is quick to place his bag where it belongs and now he can establish himself. It’s a window seat, he notices, which means that soon there will be another person next to him, too close for his own liking. He knows there’s no use in picturing what kind of person it will be, but he can certainly hope it’s a nice one who knows how to respect his personal space.

If he or she doesn’t have vocal chords, Damian definitely won’t complain.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then, allowing himself to settle down and get used to his surroundings. It’s chaotic, he thinks, and he knows chaotic. Children are crying, some people are on the phone and others are just breathing too loud. He knows he’s whining like a brat, but it’s stronger than him. It’s annoying, and he swears if that lady keeps on talking about her 3 cats, he’s going to—

His inner monologue stops, his eyes widening for a moment. At last, he hears the one thing he hates more than Joker’s maniacal laughter. That unbearable sound that makes his head throb and makes his lips turn into a deep frown.

“Is that Damian Wayne?”

Teenage girls. And they know him.

Perhaps it’s the annoying giggle or even the way they keep on getting bolder every time they meet him, but Damian can’t stand them. They’re just too obnoxious— a real pain. He honestly doesn’t know why on earth they tend to approach him whenever they have the chance, especially since he’s sure he has never once paid them any attention. In fact, chances are he has even been rude to them on more than one occasion.

Trying to understand a teenager’s mind is beyond his capacity. Ignoring them, though doesn’t prevent them from returning, is the easiest way out, and when they come— because they will come— that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Excuse me, Damian Wayne.” One of them says, her voice laced with excitement. Two more stand next to her, but he can’t really tell them apart. “It’s you, isn’t it? “

Jesus, can someone please knock him out already?

He crosses his arms at her words, his brows now knitted in annoyance. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing welcoming in his expression, but that won’t stop them from continuing. It’s not like they actually care about his feelings or anything.

“Oh, my god! It really is you!“ She claps her hands, biting her lower lip. “Can I get a selfie? Can I?”

“God, Mary. Can you be any more inconvenient?” The one on her left asks, pushing her friend away so she can take a step closer. “Forgive my friend. She can’t read the atmosphere like I can. If you want, I can send her away and keep you some company during the flight.”

“Ugh, get out of my way, both of you!” The third one pushes through, using her elbows to force her way forward. “Hi, I love you and I really mean it, Damian! I love you so much that, if you want, we can meet at the bathroom cabinet and I’ll show you.”

His eyes widen in horror at such proposal, and he’s almost sure this girl isn’t old enough to be saying such things. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as a bunch of people lift their phones to point at him, all of them waiting to hear his final answer so the dirty press can judge him.

Grayson is going to pay dearly for this.

This girl is insufferable. All of them are.

They’re causing all of that commotion, preventing people from walking down the small corridor and embarrassing him in front of all of those eyes. They can’t possibly think it’s okay to do or say those things so openly like to a man they know nothing about. Though the initial plan might have been for him to at least talk to them, Damian can’t bear any more hatred inside of him than at this very moment, and if looks could kill, those three wouldn’t be breathing anymore.

His hands turn into fists and he closes his heavy eyes so he can stop himself from committing a murder. Justice, not vengeance. His father’s words echo inside his head, and he’s having a really hard time trying not to think only about the second part. He really just wants to go home right now. And thankfully, he’s not the only one.

“Hum, excuse me…”

His ears detect a fresh voice, calmer and more mature. Instinctively, he opens his eyes to look at this new stranger, and he’s impressed by what he sees. She’s beautiful, he notices. Dark hair, violet eyes and ivory skin, all together to form an ethereal beauty like he has never seen before. Damian can’t help but keep looking at her, curious to know what she’s going to say on this matter.

“Hi!” She continues, her thin lips turning upwards in a smile. “I know you’re all busy trying to seduce this man with your oozing pheromones and irrefutable proposals, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are people trying to get to their seats here.”

“So what?” One of them says, a hand on her hips and a lot of attitude in her high-pitched voice. She’s trying to be intimidating, but it’s clearly not working. “Can’t you see who he is, you emo? He is—“

“I couldn’t care less about who he is.” The raven-haired girl cuts in, clearly not in the mood for that drama. “He could be Superman or even the president himself, for all I care. My problem is with you three airheads who are interrupting the flow. There are people trying to walk here and the airplane hallway is not a place to flirt with strangers who won’t even remember your face once we take off.”

“What!? Of course he will remember!” She glares. “We are—“

“Annoying the hell out of him? That you are. I mean, just look at his face! He looks like shit!” She points at him, violet eyes now meeting emerald ones. Her though expression suddenly melts into a softer one, her head tilting a bit to the right. “No offense, though.”

“None taken.” He answers, an amused smirk now taking over his face. She nods at him before returning her burning eyes to those three girls.

“Like the rest of us, this man just wants this damn plane to get him where he needs to be so he can move on with his life and get drunk during the holidays. We don’t want to be here. So, without further ado, could please you get the fuck out of the way before I lose my temper? ”

He doesn’t know what happens next or even how a small girl such as herself could be so intimidating, but at her words, he notices his three fangirls flinching. They’re avoiding eye-contact, and for the first time, one of them seems to grow aware of the crowd staring at them. The one standing in the middle starts to tremble, and though they’re looking at him as if searching for some sort of support, Damian can’t bring himself to offer them anything slightly remote to that.

In fact, if he has to pick sides, he wouldn’t need to think twice before taking the brunette’s.

“I-I… I—“

“You what?” She asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pose holds no hesitation as she stands her ground. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? “

With a 'tch’, the three girls finally walk away, returning to their respective seats with their heads hanging low, and he can’t help but feel incredibly satisfied by that. There’s a victorious smirk on her face, and it’s safe for him to assume she’s also feeling pretty good about what she just did.

What an interesting woman, he thinks. All that sass and eloquence are certainly eliciting his curiosity, and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t help but feel slightly turned on by this stranger.

Interesting, indeed.

While Damian is still trapped in his thoughts, a round of applause takes over the airplane, as people congratulate the raven-haired girl. They pat her shoulders, thank her for getting rid of those girls, and she even laughs once the old lady behind her tells her they don’t make girls like her anymore. For a quick moment, she becomes the hero they didn’t know they needed, and for sure, this is going to be a pleasant story to tell during Christmas dinner.

They will portray her as the girl who saved their flight.

Damian, however, will portray her as the one who told his fangirls to fuck off.

He really needs to thank her for that. Fortunately, he will have over six hours to do that.

Before the Wayne heir can bring himself to form the words in his head, the girl is placing her small bag in the compartment above their heads. As she lifts her arms, her shirt lifts, momentarily exposing her belly. Even if it was just for a brief second, she catches him staring, and once their eyes meet, he looks away, his cheeks growing slightly warmer.

He sees as she slowly shakes her head before sitting next to him, and though he was not expecting a girl such as her, he’s currently thanking the superior forces for the partner destiny has chosen to be his seat-mate. She’s beautiful, her voice is not annoying, and the best part is that she doesn’t seem to give a crap about who he is.

Maybe he’s finally going mad because of— well— everything, but right now, Damian trulls believes that he might even fall in love with this girl.

A sly smirk takes over his lips, and he can’t help but stare at her for a little too long. She watches as he does so, and as expected, she doesn’t feel embarrassed or inhibited at all. Instead, she stares back, eyes squinting a bit in sheer mockery. A questioning look spreads across her face, and he decides that he should be the one saying something. Anything, really.

“You’re mean.” He states, as if that’s the biggest truth in the world. She tilts her head, but his words don’t seem to affect her.

“So what?” She asks, not really caring about his answer as she fastens her seatbelt. ”If you didn’t like the way I talked to your fan girls, you can go and apologize to them, be their hero or whatever. Though, if you’re really gonna go meet them at the bathroom cabinet, I suggest we switch seats so we don’t bump knees every time you have to go.”

She’s a spirituous one, he notices. And if he’s not careful, he might be the next victim of her graciously rude words. “Nah, don’t worry about it. As you’ve pointed out before, I don’t even remember their faces anymore. Your knees can rest assured.”

“Thanks, I guess?” She lifts her brows, not bothering to spare him another glance as she adjusts her dark clothes. There’s a book resting over her lap— Christmas Carol, for what he can see— and she uses her small fingers to tug a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah…” He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I am Damian— “

“Save it. I know who you are, Wayne. I might not be the most updated person in this world, but even Eskimos know your family. Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m not a disguised reporter or an annoying fangirl.”

“Not with that attitude, you’re not. Your clear lack of interest in my personal life can only be matched by only one other person I know.”

“Oh, really?” She asks, her eyes now turning to face him. Now that they’re so close to each other, he can see how bright they really are, and for a moment, he thinks she might even have hypnotic powers because he just can’t look away. There’s a curious tone lingering over her words, and he wants to believe she’s actually paying attention to him this time. “And who would that be, if I may ask?”

“My father.” He answers bluntly, and he notices as she she chokes back a giggle. There’s a soft smile decorating her lips now, and the surrounding atmosphere feels a lot lighter.

“Rachel Roth.” She sticks out her hand to him, and without hesitation, he shakes it carefully. Her hand is soft against his calloused one, and he notices the way she brushes her thumb over his skin. It’s a delicate and pure gesture, so fleeting that makes him wanting more as soon as he releases her from his grip.

“Well, Rachel…” Her name rolls out of his tongue as he tests the sound of it. It has a nice ring to it, he notices. “I think I need to thank you for saving me from a huge headache back then. Seriously, I owe you one.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t really do it for you, so you don’t need to thank me or anything. I just wanted them to get out of my seat, that’s all.”

“Selfish or not, you still got rid of them, so… thanks. “

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re welcome, Damian.” Rachel nods at him, the same smile still decorating her face. She picks up her book, then, flipping through the pages so she can pick up from where she had left. The way she says his name— so simple and unpretentious— makes his lips curl upwards, and all the bad feelings from before disappear.

This girl— Rachel— she’s showing what a life away from the streets and the business meetings must feel like. The conversation flows easily and effortlessly, to the point where it’s hard to believe they’ve met not even 30 minutes ago. It feels natural in a way very few things in his life do, and though he knows it’s not meant to last, at least he will cherish this moment before it turns into a fading memory in the depths of his mind.

Moments of pure joy shall fade into oblivion, that’s one of the most important rules of his life.

Thankfully, the internet is forever.

An unexpected buzz inside his pants breaks his train of thought. At first, he decides to ignore it, but after the third time, he gives up on the idea. Silently, he scoffs in annoyance, fishing his phone from his pocket. He presses the side button, then, the screen lighting up to reveal a couple of notifications. His eyes, though, land on three particular messages from his family’s group chat:

Grayson: I ship it

Drake : what happened, Damian? Are you okay?? Todd : hot and feisty. The best kind of girl, little bro

His brows furrow in confusion at his brothers’ messages. For what he can conclude, they’re talking about a girl he knows and has interacted with, but that’s pretty much it. The only female human in his mind right now is Rachel, and there’s no way for them to be talking about her. He’s not being followed or bugged, for all he knows— and he knows.

Something strange is happening, and he wants to know what. The youngest Wayne, then, texts them a single ‘?’ and almost immediately, Dick sends him a link to an Instagram page. He’s growing more confused with every additional information, but figures it must be just another one of Grayson’s stupid pranks.

He sighs at the thought. Isn’t he a bit too old for that?

An annoyed pout takes over his lips as a clear sign that he just wants to get this stupid thing over with. Once he taps on the link, though, it takes less than a second for his eyes to widen and his bored expression change into a surprised one. The video playing is muted, but he doesn’t need any volume or subtitles to know what the raven-haired girl in it is saying.

Oh… That angle does make her look nice.

He blinks twice as he allows the whole thing to sink in. Apparently, all of that show earlier was recorded by some cameras and posted all over the internet. There are many posts about it, with all possible captions and comments about them, and he has to admit some are quite creative. Apparently, they’re the new internet hits, not that Damian really cares about it. He’s used to all the lies and overreacted dramas, but if he were to be honest, this one is making him quite intrigued.

Not by the gossip itself, no. That would never happen.

This time, he’s intrigued by how the girl next to him will react as soon as she finds out.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches as she’s calmly reading her book, waiting for the plane to take flight. She’s immersed in Charles Dickens’ words, and it’s like the entire world around her can’t interrupt her. It’s just her and the book, and for she hasn’t touched her phone since her arrival, he’s quite sure she doesn’t know what’s happening in the digital world.

At least, not yet.

He’s definitely going to tell her.

“Uh… Rachel? ”

“Yes, Damian?” She answers, her eyes not bothering to leave the pages of the book.

“Just a quick question… How do you feel about being the center of attentions? “

“I hate it. Why?”

“Well, you might have to reconsider this…” His voice falters and he slowly massages the back of his head.

“Oh, and why would I do that?” She looks at him, at last, her brows now arched. Her expression is blank, and he suddenly wants to laugh because she has no idea of what’s coming.

“Here, check this out. ”

He gives her his phone, a smirk decorating his face. Slowly, he watches the video playing once again on the small screen, all life slowly fading from her pretty face. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she places her fingers on her left temple. Her cheeks are growing redder than a tomato, and once the video ends, she is completely dumbfounded.

“Wha-what the hell!?“ A couple of seconds pass until she says something, her voice a little too loud, and her eyes filled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What’s the meaning of this, Damian!?”

“Well, I think people enjoyed your bossy words from many different angels”” He starts, taking his phone back and scrolling through his time line. His voice sounds too excited for her liking, and it’s easy to tell he’s trying to hold back a laughter. “You went viral, Rachel. ”

“No no no no.” She repeats, slowly shaking her head in denial and taking her own phone in hands. With trembling fingers, she opens her Instagram page and a rush of follows and mentions makes her eyes widen even more. “I can’t believe this is happening. ”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Damian tries to calm her down, but the joy in his voice takes all of his credit away.

“Not that bad?!” Her eyes are glaring at him now, cheeks puffed in pure anger. “I got remixed, Damian!”

A sly smile takes over his lips, and he’s]really trying not to laugh in front of her. “And it’s a good remix. Besides, for what I can see, most people are on our side.”

“Our side? I was just trying to reach my seat. There’s no our side, Damian.”

“Well, apparently, there is. Look.” He leans towards her, absentmindedly, until he’s close enough to feel her embarrassment exhaling from her. Their knees are brushing, but neither of them seems to be aware of that closeness right now. He shows her his phone one more time, a couple of comments now displayed. “Some people are even shipping us already. #Damirae.”

A defeated whimper escapes her lungs, and finally, she locks her phone-screen. Apparently, Rachel can’t look at all that anymore, and decides to just sink into the seat. Her hands are covering her face, and her voice is muffled when the next words come out. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.”

“Try looking at the bright side. This video can make you famous. I’m sure the media already loves your sarcasm. “

“If you haven’t noticed, Wayne, I’m a goth.” She spreads her hands across her face so she can look at him through the space between her fingers, and he can’t help but find that utterly adorable. “I don’t do bright side. ”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” He also locks his phone, placing it back inside his pockets. His torso turns around so he can face her properly, that same smirk still planted on his lips. “It’s just a video, relax. Most people will soon forget about it.”

“Some people? And what about the others?” Her voice is lower now, shier, as if she’s really seeking some sort of comfort— not that he’s even trying to offer her any.

“Oh, we will remember this forever, don’t worry.” A dry chuckle escapes his lips, and he notices the way her expression melts in response, tension and nervousness now gone.

Damian is having the time of his life, not only because the video was, indeed, funny; but also because he’s getting to see another side of this interesting girl who’s sitting next to him. Even if she really is bothered by the whole thing right now, eventually, he trusts that she will get over it and realize that no one gives a damn about stuff like that.

It’s just a temporary thing. A funny story for the future.

Rachel will survive it. And he—well…

He’s just found himself an excuse to follow her on Instagram.

“You jerk.” She chuckles, finally placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her posture. She takes a deep breath, then, as if she’s trying to recompose herself, but he notices the way she shrinks a little once she realizes the couple next to them are staring. Her body turns towards his, a sign that she feels somehow safe with him.

And for that, he’s extremely glad.

“That’s a new thing.” Damian states, mockery no longer lacing his voice.

“What is?” The girl questions.

“You’re laughing.”

“So what?”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just… cute.”

Her cheeks grow red once more and she bites her lips. For a fraction of a second, she turns away from him, but soon, her amethyst eyes are once more looking into his emeralds ones. “Shut up, will you? You’ll need more than that if you want your Damirae fantasy to come true.”

“Oh, so are you saying I have a chance, Rachel?” He teases, knowing very well she didn’t mean it like that. Still, he figures he can’t waste this opportunity. “Are you sure you’re not a disguised fangirl? “

“You wish, Wayne.“ She smirks, offering him a side glance as she picks up her book again. “And I never said that.”

“You didn’t say the other way around, either.”

“Good point.” She nods, acknowledging his words instead of trying to deny them. “I guess you have the entire flight to make sure I keep it that way…”

There’s a flirty tone in her voice, and instantly, the Wayne heir is up for the challenge. Their eyes meet again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s checking him out. They smile at each other, exchanging that you-know-what look, and right now, he doesn’t think this flight will be long enough.

He wants to know more about her. He wants to play this push-and-pull game, and more than anything, he wants her phone number. And Damian Wayne win’t stop until he gets what he wants.

At last, the pilot makes his announcements, and for once, they break eye contact when the flight attendant passes by their seats, closing the compartment above their heads. Seat-belts are fastened, tables are up, and the crew is ready. They’re ready to take off.

fin.

-----

a/n: Well, there are not enough words to describe how much trouble I had with these prompts. I gave up on so many ideas and got so mad at everything that I’m impressed I even managed to write something in the end. Still, I’m glad to have written this one. I had a lot of fun with the dialogues and with every smirk I wrote! Hope you’ve enjoyed it, and please, tell me what you think!

#damirae #damirae fanfiction #damirae week 2021 #damian x raven #damirae fanfic #mydamiraefics

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bebepac · 3 years

Text

The Double Date Mistake?

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt # 92 “I don’t think that was meant to go there.” will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 2 of The Meet: To catch up on what you’ve been missing of the Meet so far Please click: The Meet Masterlist

Original Post Date: 05/01/2021 at 3:15PM

The Book: TRR

The Pairing: Liam x F!OC (Liam x Jilian)

Word Count: 1948

Summary: Jilian goes on a double date with Bebe and meets Leo for the very first time. Jilian and Bebe share how they first met each other to the guys.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos. Profanity.

Leo and Liam belong to pixelberry, Jilian belongs to @queenjilian borrowed for the duration of this series. All others are my own to help us tell the story.

“And done. He has your number now Jili. Now fly my little birdies fly.”

She thought he would text right away but he didn’t. The whole way to Bebe’s apartment the twenty minute drive Jili’s phone was silent.

Bebe looked at Jili as she glanced at her phone. What the actual hell?

She texted Jilian.

“Bebe why the hell are you texting me? I’m sitting right next to you?”

“I was just making sure your phone was on.”

“I mean he’s still working Bebe. He can’t just drop everything and just start texting away.”

“The hell he can’t. What in the actual fuck is wrong with you bruh?” Bebe grumbled as she angrily typed on her phone.

“Wing Woman are you trying to crash this plane?”

“The mother hasn’t even taken off yet with you two trying to pilot it. I’m gonna need you to get your life together Jili.”

The driver pulled to a stop. “Damn I really wanted to see how this turned out.”

Bebe got out of the car in a huff.

“I’ll let you know.” Jili called out the window to her.

Jilian wasn’t going to let it stress her out. He was still at work. She knew her job got busy at times, and she couldn’t just sit on her phone and do nothing. As she was walking up the stairs to scan her door key fob, the phone rang.

It was a local number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Jilian. It’s Liam.”

“Hi Liam.”

“I apologize for not texting or calling sooner. Things got busy at work.”

“Oh I figured that was what happened.”

"Bebe is something else. I feel a little attacked. I can tell it's from a place of love though."

"She's my best friend Liam. My true sister from another mister."

"So it's safe to assume you are single?" Liam inquired.

"I am, and for you the same?"

"Yes Jilian I am. Is it forward of me to say maybe we can change that for each other. I would really like to see you again. I'm off next Friday would you be free then?"

Jilian sighed.

"Friday is my date night."

"Oh. I just assumed you being single you weren’t seeing anybody even casually."

"With Bebe. We restaurant hop. We're self proclaimed foodies.

Do you have any friends maybe we could double?”

“My brother, both him and Bebe have big personalities, I think they’d really get along. Think she would be okay with that?”

“Yeah I think I could convince her.”

They continued to talk, and about everything under the sun. Liam was funny and witty and kept her attention.

She began to realize how much she had in common with the charming Liam Rys.

She had cuddled into her bed under her covers laughing and chatting with him. She finally rolled over realizing it was almost dawn.

“Oh my God! Is that the sun?!?!?!” she shrieked, surprised into the phone.

“I’m so sorry Jilian I completely lost track of time.”

“I have to go, I have to be at work in forty five minutes!!!”

Jilian said her goodbyes to Liam and hurried to work.

Right when Jilian was sitting in her office reading over her chart for her first patient’s checkup, there was a delivery.

A large coffee drink had been delivered to her with a sweet gooey cinnamon bun.

“Gift for you Jilian Winchester.”

Liam was really sweet.

She texted him thank you.

He had let her know he had an extra espresso shot added to her coffee.

Liam was a lifesaver.

*^*^*^*^* The Double Date *^**^*^*^*

When Jili and Bebe got to the restaurant Liam and Leo were already seated at the table both stood to greet them.

Liam softly kissed Jili’s cheek.

Bebe glanced at Leo. He was cute, but he was probably about five inches shorter than Bebe, not to mention Bebe was wearing heels making her tower over Leo.

Liam changed the subject breaking the ice between everyone, and the conversation between the couples started flowing.

Jilian slipped in the subject of Liam and Leo honestly not looking much like each other.

“We’re half brothers, we have different mothers. But don’t get it twisted Bebe. I can scale you like Mount Everest. Taller women don’t intimidate me one bit.”

“Um….thank you for that blatant honesty…. Jili will you accompany me to the restroom please?”

“Excuse us for a moment.” Jili smiled politely.

“Absolutely not Jili!!!!!” Bebe was adamant when the door to the bathroom closed.

“Bebe I didn’t know! I swear when he said older brother, I was thinking he looked like him. You would think older brothers are taller, bigger, and wiser. He is funny though. You two do have similar personalities. Maybe try to focus on that Bee. Let’s just try to have a fun time. You don’t have to see Leo again. But I know I want to see Liam again. I like him.”

“You owe me big for this!!!”

Both women come back to the table. Their drink orders had arrived. Bebe takes a long sip on her drink.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Leo smiled. “A girl after my own heart.”

“How did you and Bebe meet Jilian?”

“We actually met in NOLA. We were both presenting at a medical conference. Bebe for the Pharma side, because she’s a pharmacist, and me for medical for being a nurse practitioner focused in the at risk population.”

Leo eyes flit to Bebe.

“So you’re a drug dealer?”

Bebe smiled. “ Legal Drug Dealer. Yep, that’s what I call myself. I’m slinging pills to pay the bills.”

“I can dig it.”

“We met the night before our conference began, in a bar.”

When Jilian walked into the bar she noticed her right away. There was a woman at the bar, drinking her drink telling what appeared to be a funny story that had multiple people’s attention. All were laughing with her. She had to be a local. Jili thought.

She had strings of beads around her neck.

“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked.

She looked at Bebe. “I want whatever she’s having.” Bebe was the life of the party.

“Well I did a little pre-gaming at the drive through daiquiri shop though.

But mostly Hurricanes. Get her a Hurricane Sal.”

The bartender winked at Bebe.

“Don’t skimp on the good stuff either!” She yelled out.

Jilian’s eyes widened when the bartender brought her the drink.

Bebe held up her glass to clink with Jilian’s glass.

“Laissez le bon temps rouler!!!!!” The crowd screamed in agreement at Bebe’s declaration.

“What?”

“LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!!!!!”

Jilian took a long drink of the cocktail. No wonder.

“Yep! You like it. I’m Bebe, what’s your name?”

“Jilian.”

“I’m gonna call you Jili. What brings you to NOLA?”

“Work, a conference.”

“Bleh you said the “W.” word. That’s not existing in my life right now. We’re here, we’re alive, no regrets Jili. Let your hair down and enjoy yourself. I mean literally. That bun is a buzz kill.”

Jili pulled the pins out of her hair shaking out her locks.

“So much better!!!! You’re a babe!!! See they’re already looking at you differently. We’re not interested though. Unless they’re buying more drinks.”

Jili glanced at the guys that were now looking in her direction.

“You’ve got a lot of bead necklaces going on.” Jili commented.

“There are two ways to get beads in NOLA. Buy them or earn them.”

Jili looked at Bebe and raised her eyebrow with a smile.

“Let me guess, your ass hasn’t spent a dime tonight.”

Bebe took a long sip of her hurricane.

“Nope. Not a single dime. Including alcohol. I'll tell you what Jili. Life’s too short. I’m not going to regret any of my choices. I spent a year in Costa Rica, living my life Pura Vida.”

“Pure Life.” Jilian smiled. Bebe was a carefree spirit, and people gravitated to her.

“We’re only here for a blink Jili. How do you want your story to be told?”

She decided to throw caution to the wind and party the night away with Bebe.

Jilian’s alarm went off the next morning. She was incredibly hung over as she tried to pull herself together.

She had a random memory of her and Bebe walking down Bourbon Street singing “Lean on Me” while they were linked arm and arm. The drunk leading the more drunk back to the hotel.

She smiled, straightening her black business suit. She was about to pull her hair up into her signature bun but decided to let her tresses fall free instead.

As she was getting checked into the convention she slipped her ID badge and program of speakers, herself among the list.

She heard her laugh. Jili whipped her head around and saw Bebe at the back of the line with two others. Bebe was wearing a bright pink business suit, and her shoes and clutch had the print of medications on it.

“The legal drug dealers have arrived!!!! Big Pharma in da house!!!!!!”

Jili laughed, shaking her head.

“That’s how we met Liam.”

“We found out later we lived near each other, and made plans to meet up. Been friends ever since. That was like six years ago.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask us how we met.” Leo asked.

“I assume you are brothers…. You met… at birth?”

Bebe shook her head at Leo.

Everyone was calm after not to mention the alcohol free flowing. They headed to a lounge after dinner, called Blue Notes. The music there was full of soul and blues.

The drinks continued. The music there stirred the soul.

“May I have this dance?” Jili nodded, taking Liam’s hand. He held her close.

Leo eyed Bebe. “You know, I have always been one to have a huge case of FOMO. So you and me let’s hit the dance floor too.”

Bebe downed her drink in one swallow. “Why the hell not.”

They walked out to the dance floor. With Bebe’s high heels Leo was chest level to her. He pulled her close resting his head on her bosom.

“Um….so we’re doing this… okay…” Bebe looked surprised but she was smiling.

Liam laughed softly when he glanced in their direction.

“I don’t think that was meant to go there.”

“The height difference honestly never crossed my mind Jilian. Things seemed really awkward for them for a bit, for more so Bebe. Not so awkward now.”

Bebe and Leo were looking at each other laughing.

“You know this is never going to happen Leo Rys.”

“A man can dream. Well….It could happen for the night. I can tell you’re curious. Let me tickle your fancy tonight.”

Bebe laughed harder at him. “You don’t give up do you Leo?”

“Nope because I get what I want.”

“If nothing else Jilian, I think they will at least be friends from this, if nothing romantic happens.”

The next morning Liam was cooking breakfast when Bebe walked out of Leo’s room. Leo’s sweatpants looked like capris on Bebe.

“Good Morning Bebe. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sure.”

Leo walked out of the room a few minutes later.

Liam smiled looking at the two of them.

“Breakfast Leo?”

“I already ate.” Leo winked at Bebe.

Bebe choked on her orange juice.

“Oh you were talking about bacon and eggs, sure.”

Nope not at all awkward at all. Liam thought as he fixed plates for himself Leo and Bebe.

Bebe was climbing in her ride share when her phone rang.

“Bebe… Liam just told me you had breakfast with him and Leo… at his apartment. You spent the night with Leo?”

“Leo was right, Jili. Not all of him is fun sized.”

Tags in the comments !!!!

#bebepac writes #the meet #before the greek meat #trr au #trr liam #trr jilian #trr bebe #trr leo #wacky drabbles #choices fic writers creations

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gubler-me-up · 4 years

Text

Missing in Action

Request: Can you write a fanfic where Hotch's daughter gets kidnapped and Hotch and his team have to find her?

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! This is my first Hotch request and I usually don’t write for Hotch but everyone needs a lil challenge here and there right? I’ve decided to make this a two parter because I love suspense and since they asked for a fanfiction imma give them a fanfiction. Hey, it might even be three parts who knows? Hopefully y’all enjoy it, I’ve watched a lot of The FBI Files lately so I’m adding a ~sprinkle~ of that in here as well. I was very nervous while writing this but hopefully it’s decent 😬 p.s. I put y/n still so you can insert yourself as Hotch’s daughter if you’d like or create a name whatever floats your boat

Category: Angst

Content warning: Kidnapping, mention of violence, crime scene, blood

Word count: 2.5k

————-

Hotch packed up his briefcase for the day. He had promised his daughter he would pick her up from soccer practice. He had also promised her and Jack they would go out for dinner since they hadn’t done so in months. He had instructed Jack to meet his older sister at the soccer field after his school book club meeting was over.

He looked at the time on his watch and saw it was quarter to six. The two of them were probably already ridiculing him because of his tardiness. He checked his phone to see if she had texted him complaining yet. There was no notification which caused him to raise an eyebrow. Y/N was usually very vocal about her dad being late when he was the one always telling them about being punctual.

To his surprise his phone started to ring. For an instant, he thought it could have been Y/N calling him but the caller ID said Unknown Caller. He hesitantly answered it, anxious to know who would be on the other line. Before he could even greet the other person on the line, he heard Jack’s voice yelling in a panic.

“Jack, buddy, slow down. What do you mean your sister was taken?” Hotch asked.

The next few words Jack told him sounded unreal to him. His mind couldn’t process even the slightest possibility of Jack’s story to be true. Jack had seen a black car pull up at the corner of the sidewalk where his sister was standing waiting for him. He was just a block away when he saw a man jump out of the backseat and grab Y/N. He shoved her in the back and then the driver sped off.

“Jack, where are you right now? You’re at school? Okay, stay there for now. The police are at the scene right now? Okay, okay, I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and for once didn’t know where to begin. His mind was racing in overtime trying to think of who it possibly could be, if Y/N was okay and how long he had to find her. He ran out of his office to go towards the bullpen. He watched as everyone stared at him in confusion as he tried to form the right words to tell them.

Everyone had already packed up for the day and were almost on their way out by the time Hotch came to them. The look on his face was one they hadn’t seen since Haley’s death. They anticipated the worst to words to leave Hotch’s mouth.

“Y/N was kidnapped. We have to act now.”

Every single team member’s face filled with dread as they realized how little time they had to find Y/N safe. With no other words exchanged between anyone they made their way to the briefing room. Hotch let everyone walk in front of him as he still tried his best to comprehend the whole situation.

He felt someone gently touch his shoulder. He turned around to see Rossi looking at him with his famous look of determination. It was visible to him Hotch was in a place of discouragement that he had to break out of if he wanted to get his daughter.

“We’ll find her, Aaron,” Rossi said.

“We realistically only have two and a half hours before the possibility of finding her alive becomes slim. We have to make a move on these sons of bitches now,” Hotch said.

Rossi nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They made their way into the briefing room as soon as Garcia pulled up phone records from Y/N phone. Hotch sat down as he analyzed the screen in silence, checking every phone number to see if there was one out of place. His eyebrow raised as he saw a number he didn’t recognize and it only showed up once in her call log. She had ignored the call and according to the time the call was made she was taken about five minutes after.

“Garcia, can you check if the last number on her call log is anywhere else in her call or text history?” Hotch asked.

“Of course, sir,” she said before searching for the number.

She pulled up a text message sent to Y/N. It was an attachment. It was sent recently which confused everyone considering they already had her in their grips. Garcia went ahead and opened the attachment to reveal the picture. It was a letter addressed to Hotch.

Aaron Hotchner,

Expect a call from us around 7 p.m. You have my word your daughter will be safe until then. It’s up to you to agree or disagree with our demands which will ultimately determine her fate.

“Garcia, can you trace the number?” Hotch asked.

“It’s a burner number from an app. It’s out of service now, but I will trace Y/N’s location on her phone,” she said.

“We have about half an hour to go over possible suspects who could be responsible for this,” Morgan said.

“It seems personal, so it’s more than likely that Hotch and the perpetrator have come into contact. It seems especially personal since they want to call Hotch to tell him what they want from him instead of detailing it in the ransom letter,” Reid said.

“It seems whoever wrote the letter is the leader since he says ‘we’ and ‘our’ but only says ‘my’ when referring to keeping his word of keeping Y/N safe,” JJ said.

“Jack said there were two men who had abducted her but it’s less than likely the leader of the group would be one of the two doing the kidnapping. For now, we know there are three suspects but there could be more. Morgan, Prentiss and Reid will go to the kidnapping scene while the rest of us wait here for the call to come. Please bring Jack here when you’re done at the scene. He’s at school waiting to be picked up,” Hotch ordered.

Morgan, Reid and Prentiss nodded as they got up from their seats. They left the room in urgency as the time was slowly ticking away on Y/N. Hotch didn’t take his eyes off the screen as Garcia did her best to search for the phone. JJ and Rossi looked at him as they tried to remain calm for him. They knew as soon as Hotch found out he had his daughter it would send him over the edge. They wanted to avoid a possible repeat of the Foyet situation.

A map popped up on the screen with a red dot pinging on the location of Y/N’s phone. It was pinging in a lake not too far from the area Y/N. was last seen. Garcia touched her throat as she felt it run dry as she thought of the worst. She looked over to Hotch who was already looking in her direction. He looked calm and collected enough for the whole room.

“Don’t worry, Garcia. She’s still alive, they just dumped her phone, so we can’t trace them. Don’t give in to their fear tactics,” Hotch said.

Garcia took a jagged breath. “Of course, sir.”

“JJ, call Prentiss to inform them to go by the lake just off highway 66. Let’s pull up the street footage to see if the camera’s caught the getaway car.”

————

“Agents.”

Morgan, Reid and Prentiss looked over at where the voice had come from. They saw detective Broderick of the Arlington police department walking towards them. Morgan and Prentiss held their hands out to greet him with a handshake while Reid waved. He walked them over to the area where Y/N was taken from.

The area was riddled with pylons to identify every piece of evidence. They saw there was a trail of shattered glass on the road. Morgan went over to look at the pieces. He took out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket to put on. He picked up a shard to examine it.

“We sent samples of the glass to the FBI forensics lab in D.C., so hopefully we can determine the make of the car that way,” detective Broderick said.

“Our tech analyst is looking through street camera footage to see if the car was caught driving through this area. Y/N must have kicked out the backseat window, so someone could see her. Dangerous move, but helpful,” Morgan said.

“We should also get some of your officers down to the lake off highway 66. Y/N’s phone’s there but there could be other evidence there as well,” Prentiss instructed.

“You got it. You think they’re going towards the D.C. area? Should I send units out that way?” He asked.

“Not exactly. They could have just dumped her phone there and other items to throw us off. They’re most likely still in state because they still have to call Hotch. Whatever exchange that needs to take place has to take place nearby,” Reid said.

“Makes sense. I’ll send some cops down to that area for you.”

As detective Broderick radioed in for police officers to the location of where Y/N’s phone was, Reid noticed something on a piece of glass. He took out his latex gloves to put on before crouching next to the shard. He picked it up and saw what appeared to be blood. Then he noticed another shard with more of the red substance on it.

He called over an officer to give him an evidence collection bag. The officer handed over a bag to him. Spencer put both shards into the bag. As he tried to look for any more shards on the ground that could potentially be evidence, he saw Prentiss walk into his sight. She crouched down close to him but she looked at a completely different area of glass shards.

“I think that might be a partial print,” she said.

“Where?” Reid asked.

She pointed at a shard in front of her. She carefully picked it up to show Reid in the reflection of the dim sunlight a possible partial print. Reid nodded his head in agreement to the fact that it could be a partial print.

“Let’s get this to the lab along with the other shards in this specific area. Maybe we can find another shard with the rest of the fingerprint or even a palm print somewhere.”

———

Hotch, JJ, Rossi and Garcia waited around the round table for the call to come through. They were informed of the evidence being processed at the FBI forensics lab in D.C. for clear identification. They had also been informed that the area where Y/N’s phone was found also had her soccer bag tossed into the river as well. They were still actively combing the area for any further evidence.

Garcia managed to identify the car as a black 2002 Mercedes Benz C Class sedan. The license plates weren’t visible on camera due to the angles they were taken. She didn’t have any success finding that type of car registered to anyone in the Arlington area who had been near the abduction site.

All the information Hotch was receiving was sticking in his mind and he continuously thought of who could be behind his daughter’s kidnapping. He would have honestly rather they have shot him and spare her of any trauma. He swore he would never let anyone harm his family again and it seemed as if no matter what he did nothing protected his family from the demons of his job.

The clock struck 7 p.m. and his eyes darted to his phone on the table. Everyone else’s eyes also followed his gaze. They were anxiously waiting for the call too. They wanted to find Y/N in one piece just as much Hotch did but they couldn’t even fathom the agony he was in being helpless in this situation. His daughter’s fate laid in one phone call.

JJ jerked in her seat as she felt her phone vibrate. Her anxiety towards the situation was heavy for her that it almost felt as if she was in his seat. Her heart still pounded as she looked at her phone even though she knew it was probably only a text from Prentiss updating her about the situation. Which she was correct about but her heart still pounded and her hands still shook from the sudden vibration of her phone.

“They found a tire track, so they’re going to run that by the lab as well,” she said.

Hotch’s phone rang. The sound of everybody in the room taking a deep breath was the only sound next to Garcia typing away as she got ready to track the call. Hotch calmly picked up the phone even as the burning rage inside of him tried its best to come out. He had to resist any hostility during the call at all cost.

“Hotchner,” Hotch said.

“Aaron Hotchner. Glad you picked up,” the distorted voice said.

“What do you want for the safe return of my daughter?” He asked.

“Is this the same guy who doesn’t make deal with people like me? Isn’t that what you said when George Foyet wanted to cut a deal with you? Why the sudden change in song?” The voice asked.

“And look how that turned out,” he said.

“I wouldn’t harm your daughter but if you try to find me as I know your team already is I’ll have no choice to.”

“Tell me what you want and we’ll stop hunting you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“I need $500,000 dropped off at 3600 17th street north by 9 p.m. and your daughter will be returned safely to you. She will be in the forest nearby waiting for you. If you deviate from this plan I will not hesitate to inform my partner to shoot her. Are we clear, Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not want to hear your daughter? It’s chilling knowing you don’t want to know for sure if she’s alive or not.”

“I know she’s alive. You can’t fool me with your fake confidence. You and I know you’re going to keep me playing this count and mouse game until 9 p.m. when you realize you messed with the wrong person.”

“Charming, Aaron. We’ll chat later.”

They hung up without another word exchanged. Hotch looked over at Garcia but she slowly shook her head in defeat with tears gradually forming in her eyes. She wasn’t able to ping a signal to the call.

“I think they’re blocking the signal because I can’t find a tower they’re boun-”

“That’s okay. I have a feeling I know who it is,” Hotch said.

Everyone raised a curious eyebrow to what Hotch had revealed. Though the conversation was short and mainly to the point, Hotch had listened out for a few key aspects. The most telling aspect he noticed made him confident in knowing who it was.

“You know them?” JJ asked.

“Yes. I know from the way they said, “charming, Aaron,” Hotch explained.

“Okay, so who’s the guy?” Rossi asked.

“It’s not a guy. It’s a woman.”

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @laneybobeczko-g @littlewierdalien @cynbx

#spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #jj #Jennifer Jareau #derek morgan #emily prentiss #Penelope Garcia #david rossi #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #CM #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds request #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

barcelona (ii)

wordcount: 2.3k

_______

Sophie introduced him to the whole group, then separately to her roommates all sitting together at the top of the table. “This is Isobel,” she nodded, “this is Andrea,” she waved, “and this is Juliet,” she smiled.

Rafe nodded, smiling at the three of them. “Isabelle -”

“Isobel.” She corrected. “Ee-so-belle.”

“Ee-so-belle.” He repeated slowly, trying with the accent. “Sorry, I’ll remember that. And you’re Andrea, and you’re Juliet.”

“Rafe, do you always show up late to places?” Isobel asked him with a stern look, nudging Sophie under the table. She tried her best to hold back a grin as he shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “No, um, sorry, we got held up by the - the subway -”

“The metro.” Sophie corrected calmly.

“Yes! The metro. Sorry, uh, jetlag.” Rafe tried, looking nervous.

“Uh huh.” She nodded, trying to seem unconvinced, and Andrea snorted into her mimosa, making all of them laugh. “Andrea!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it up!”

Rafe glanced between the four girls, confused. “Keep what up?”

Sophie grinned, squeezing his leg under the table. “I told them they could grill you a little. Andrea just has no poker face.”

“We’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other.” Juliet told him with a welcoming smile.

The girls all nodded in agreement and Sophie beamed at their approval, letting them go on with stories about their antics as roommates, like when Juliet had set off the fire alarm while smoking - three times - and when Andrea brought a boy over and he turned out to be a total bust, so they girls had to make up an excuse to rescue her from the awkward situation. As Isobel reached across the table for the salt, Rafe noticed a small carnation tattooed just below the inside of her elbow, still a little red. “I like that, is it new?”

“It is!” She nodded down the table. “Mateo just did some of them for us last week. Oh my god, Sophie, do you remember like a month ago -”

Sophie shook her head quickly, sending her a pointed glare. “I don’t remember. Anything. Ever.”

Andrea hid a giggle behind her napkin at the way Sophie’s cheeks went red, and Juliet smirked. “The initials R.C. don’t ring a bell?”

“Stoooop.” She whined and Rafe caught on quickly, grinning. “Was that when she tried to get the tattoo on her hip?”

“Yes!” Andrea exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god, it was like five inches tall and looked like it’d been written by a primary schooler.”

“You were determined.” Isobel grinned, poking Sophie in the side and put on a poorly done American accent to mimic her. “Nooo, guys, I hafta get it!”

Juliet joined in, her American accent even worse. “I’ve only had four drinks, I’m fine! Like, sober!”

“That was with Sebastian’s heavy pour, too.” Andrea added, laughing. “I think we got to know a little too much about you that night.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sophie was bright red now and nudged her elbow into Rafe’s side when he went to ask another question. “I FaceTimed him that night, he saw how bad it was.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Besides, she already has the ring, it’s not like she needed that to ward any guys off.” Isobel pointed out nonchalantly and Sophie bit her lip, trying to be subtle as she hid her hand under the table and switched her ring from her ring finger back to her middle, something she’d forgotten to do in her haste to pick him up from the airport.

Rafe noticed immediately, of course, but chose not to comment. “Maybe a temporary tattoo instead.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. When their waiter came back around to take everyone’s real food order instead of just adding to their sangria, most of the table ordered in Spanish with ease, including Sophie.

She looked to him to explain his order but he straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Uh, hola! Yo comer los huevos con chorizo, por favor.” He gave the waiter a proud smile and Isobel had to hide a snort in her napkin at his horrible pronunciation and grammar - it was as butchered as possible. The waiter furrowed his brow a little and Sophie subtly pointed at his option on the menu. The waiter laughed, clapped Rafe on the shoulder and told him - in a nearly-perfect American accent - “Welcome to Spain, buddy.”

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” Sophie held back a grin, not wanting to burst Rafe’s bubble.

He beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I did a little studying over the summer.”

“It wasn’t horrible!” Juliet chimed in with an encouraging smile, not noticing Rafe’s face drop. Sophie winced and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll practice. The idea’s there.”

He kept his voice down, turning to her with a curious look. “You mean it? It wasn’t bad?”

“No! Not really. I mean, some things could use some work, but you have like, the basic foundation -”

“Sophie. No lying.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Oh, bullshit - you’ve lied so many times -”

“Pre-relationship does not count!” She exclaimed, grinning as she swatted him with her napkin. “We agreed. No bringing that up.”

He grinned back, poking her side. “What, are you trying to hide our sordid past from your roommates?”

She fixed him with a cross look, shaking her head. “Sordid hardly describes it. Just a few arguments here and there, that was all.”

“Ah, you seem to have a selective memory.” He smirked and squeezed her knee under the table. “You hated me.”

She frowned. “I never hated you. Just, maybe, didn’t like you sometimes.”

“Understatement of the century.” He trailed his hand up her thigh and she pushed his hand away, giving him a warning look. “Rafe Cameron.”

He just gave her a smile and moved his hand back to her knee until their food arrived.

_____

Three packed days later of showing Rafe around, Sophie had to say a tearful goodbye to her roommates. It was hard for her to leave her newfound friends she’d grown so close to, but they promised they’d see her again - they’d all applied early for graduate programs scattered throughout the US, some starting as early as January.

Somehow, after a lot of persuading over the summer, Sophie had convinced Rafe to rent a car and drive to Nice in France. It was a little over six hours of a drive and along the coastline, and he couldn’t say no to her after she’d sent multiple photos of the coast and fancy cars they could rent too. After loading everything into the car and carefully adjusting the short driver’s seat, Rafe grinned over at her. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but I have something for you.” She reached into the backseat and pulled a wrapped box out of her tote bag, practically buzzing with excitement. “I know your birthday won’t be until we’re in Rome, but I think you’d like this now. The rest of your gift is back in Ohio though.”

He took the box, fixing her with a playfully stern look. “I thought I told you no presents? Just being here with you is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t listen. Open it.”

He opened it curiously, then grinned when he saw the camcorder printed on the box. He’d mentioned earlier in the summer how he’d like to have something that wasn’t just his phone to document senior year, and then to be able to edit the footage together into little montages each month. Of course, she’d listened and found the perfect gift. “You remembered!”

“It’s the right kind, I think, but double check for me?” She asked, urging him to open the box. “I did a lot of research making sure it was the right one.”

He took the camera out and inspected it, nodding. “It’s perfect. I love it, Sophie, thank you.” He turned to her and smacked a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she turned her head and caught his lips with hers.

“You’re welcome. I was going to wait, but figured you could take videos of our trip and everything.” She beamed.

Rafe’s grin morphed into a smirk as he flipped the camera on, pointing it toward her. “Is the rest of the present that we’re making a sex tape?”

She immediately rolled her eyes, huffing as she reached for the camera. “Okay. You just ruined the moment, good job.”

He laughed, pushing her hand away and put it back in the box. “Thank you, for real. It’s awesome.”

She took the box and put it back in the backseat, smiling. “Welcome. Happy early birthday, old man.”

Rafe started up the car and flicked on the radio, handing Sophie his phone loaded up with their directions. “Twenty-two is hardly old.”

“Ancient.” She laughed. “Alright, this says we’ll get there by two, so just in time to check in to the hostel and we can stop to eat halfway. Feel okay about driving? Because I can trade with you -”

“Absolutely not. And, uh, about the hostel.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

“I thought I sent you all the information, you said you’d book it -”

“No, no, not that, I have everything covered. Just.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“Just?” She cocked her head curiously.

“I may have gone a different route for accommodation in Nice.”

“Rafe. I said I’d pay for my things.”

He didn’t need to glance over at her to feel her slow-building annoyance, but did anyways. “I know! I know. I was just thinking, we’re going to the beach and we’ll be all sandy and whatever afterward, it might be nice to have a real hotel and our own bathroom. Just for there, I booked the hostels for Italy.”

“Just for there.” She repeated, skeptical.

He nodded to confirm. “We’ve just been so busy with everyone - which I totally understand - but I thought it’d be nice to have it be just us for a few days.”

She considered it for a moment - he did make a great point. “I can transfer money from my savings to cover my half.”

“No.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m serious, Sophie, no. The hostels, fine, but not for Nice.” He declared. He’d chosen a boutique hotel instead of a big expensive chain hotel in hopes that would hide how much he spent, so she didn’t question it.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I really don’t want to fight over this, baby, but I told you -”

“So don’t fight. I’ve got it.” He reached over and rested his hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ward gave me extra money.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ward gave you extra money to spend on your trip with me? I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t think he even knows my name still.”

“Well.” He paused, nodding. “Not exactly for the trip, he just put double in my account for my birthday month. I think he feels a little guilty, last year he forgot.” Rafe tried to force a laugh, but it came out more pained than he wanted.

She frowned and reached over to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “He forgot your birthday? Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, happens. Anyways, um. I’m not letting you pay for it.”

She could tell he was growing uncomfortable talking more about Ward and nodded. “Okay. Fine, but just this once.” She gave him a small smirk. “You think the walls are thin?”

“I think the building is structurally sound, baby.” He gave her a confused glance.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That is so not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think harder.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook his head. “I give up.”

“We only had sex once since we’ve been back together.”

“What does that have to do with thin walls - ohhhh. Right. You know, sometimes I forget how dirty you are, I appreciate the reminder.” He grinned and she tugged on the ends of his hair, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, you are too.”

“Think we could pull over when we make it to France and have a quickie on the side of the road?”

She raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “Do you speak enough French to get us out of trouble if we get caught and arrested?”

“Minor details.” Rafe laughed, nudging his head back into her hand a little so she’d start playing with his hair again. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She responded, scratching his head lightly.

“I love you. So damn much.”

Sophie beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, fool. I’m glad you’re here.”

He grinned widely. “Yeah? Me too. I really hated being away from you.”

She frowned, just a little. “At least you had your internship to distract you though, right?”

“I was too damn nervous about Brooklyn doing something to fuck us up half the time.” He confessed. “I’m really sorry she kissed me, I should have known -”

“Quit.” She cut him off firmly. “I don’t want to hear a single thing about her on this trip, and I especially don’t want to hear apologies for that. Not your fault.”

He bit this inside of his cheek, sparing a glance over at her. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me, but it’s over with. Quit stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing -”

“You’re too easy to read, baby.” She flicked the back of his neck and he yelped, laughing. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are, you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love you for that.” Sophie grinned. “No more talking about her.”

“Jealous.” He quipped, smiling over at her.

“Damn straight.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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babytortie · 4 years

Text

baby birds

baby birds. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

summary: in which stanley finally breaks and distances himself from the loser’s group. the reader finds him alone and helps him cope to feel better.

warning: lots of fluff. <3

contains: slight mentioning of insecurities.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 15 years old in this one-shot.

~ 2.4k words.

it's been a couple of days since stanley showed up at the loser's clubhouse and the group was getting anxious. the curly haired teen always showed up after school when the group wanted to hang out. recently, he's made excuses for the past three times they've all hung out though.

"where's stan the man at?" mike broke the silence, uncrossing his legs and getting up from the couch to sit by bill instead. previously, he had been sitting with y/n and beverly. somehow but not before banging it around a few times and ben having to fix the walls, they managed to get the couch inside one weekend.

it was a hand-me down from the denbrough's garage. only deemed safe and clean after eddie tore it apart. the cushions and pillows were shampooed, as well as, a finishing touch of spray downs with two cans of lysol.

"maybe ed's mom is cheating on me and he's with her right now?" richie snickered, glancing up at the others from the hammock to see all of them unamused and letting out groans.

in his hand was the newest comic and for the past couple of minutes he'd been browsing through it. although, the tozier teen was not completely paying attention since he was mesmerized with eddie's face. the sunlight peeked through the wooden cracks and all of the asthmatic boy's freckles dusted perfectly along his skin.

the shorter boy was talking with bill who sat a few feet away from them and overheard the lanky boy's comment through mid-conversation. in return, he leaned over from the other side of the hammock and smacked richie's arm. "don't call me eds! how many times do i have to tell you that? also, i already have a nick name and it's eddie."

he swatted eddie's arm away and of course dramatically rubbed his arm a few times. with another occasional adjustment made to his coke-bottle glasses, richie pouted and put his arms up in exaggeration. "oh right sorry about that eddie spaghetti. but i don't know then. y/n?" he asked, automatically assuming you had answers about the curly haired teenager’s whereabouts.

beverly was in the middle of braiding y/n's hair and rolled her eyes. she let go of your strands and quickly smoothed them out. this was making you able to turn face-forward instead of the current side-ways position on the couch that you now only shared with her.

before reacting to the richie's remark, you gave beverly a sympathetic smile. an awfully long minute went by before you finally acknowledged tozier. he was still cackling though and everyone, including you, could tell it was full of nervousness.

"seriously, richie? i've talked to stanley just as much as the rest of you the last couple of days." you stated with a glare then shrugged before leaning back against the couch cushions.

"y-yeah, just bec-cause y/n and stan a-are love b-birds doesn't m-mean they keep tab-bs on each other all t-the time. ri-ight guys?" bill smirked.

beverly immediately put a hand over her mouth to contain the giggles threatening to spill out. she risked her luck and turned to gaze in your direction but you were already taking note of this with an eyebrow raised.

"are you alright there, beverly?" ben asked out of concern. because of her skin complexion, her face was easily able to turn bright red. he hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation with being zoned out into another good story. hanscom's face had been happily stuffed into an interesting book from the library.

"i'm sorry! sorry, it's just stanley and birds. good one bill!" she stumbled over her words from laughter. after a moment of hearing beverly and richie snickering together, like they were high, the others couldn't help but start hollering and whistling too.

"yep, laugh it up. glad to be of service for the jokes of today." shouting playfully which only caused a channeling of an inner-richie. you grabbed the couch arm for balance and stood up. they watched as you bowed twice then sat back down like the tozier teen would have been doing if he were the one in this situation.

the group would always tease you and stan. this causing the both of you to always blush in result and look anywhere in the room but each other while full of embarrassment.

the crazy thing was that what they said was true. neither of you wanted to admit first though and it was just another daily topic for the group. the other six members wished one of you would just open up and discuss the feelings you two bottled inside. no use still and after months of teasing, you nor stanley backed down yet.

"does anybody know where he'd be at right now?" mike paused to take a glimpse at his watch then added, "at four-thirty? he wouldn't go home so soon yet with his dad being off today."

the group was silent, none knew and the fact you and stan had a secret spot was not common shared information either. you contemplated for a moment before thinking what the hell? and just spoke up with a reply before you could take it back. "yeah, in fact i do. i'll see you guys later."

to avoid their stares, you didn't dare catching their reactions. instead taking that time to lean over the side of the couch and grab your backpack from school, lazily putting the straps around your shoulders.

"see, what'd i tell you?" richie smirked, leaning over in the hammock towards bill for a high five who did not return it but had a grin of his own. ben placed a bookmark into the open pages to mark the spot he left off on. after this, he gave beverly a look. this expression was one similar eddie was giving to mike.

"see you later guys!" you bid farewell once more and climbed the clubhouse stairs to venture off. you stifled a chuckle as you started to walk away, hearing them all burst out mixed comments of confusion and excitement.

about thirty minutes of walking later, you reached the woods surrounding the quarry. there was a ridge in the rocks off to the side which lead to a path. one wouldn't notice it from afar without really inspecting the vicinity.

it was about half a mile and stan was usually there with a towel laid out and his back against one of the trees. a perfect crease-free bird book splayed out on top of his lap and a pair of binoculars in the teen's hands.

recently if stanley were home he'd be in his room. with a lock on his door, he laid while reading books front to back and cover to cover. which was probably what he did last night except, the perfectionist took his sweet ol' time. this was to memorize every picture of the birds and the facts about them that was printed across the crisp pages.

before doing anything, you adjusted the long sleeves of the black and white flannel tied around your waist. your chucks nervously toed in the dirt gravel and you let out a deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding. curiously studying stan after that and noticing your prediction wasn’t far off. it was actually almost spot on except the book was nowhere to be found.

"this seat taken?" you asked, pointing towards the empty spot on the towel next to him. the uris teen jumped a bit, probably zoned out on a bird that was perched on the branch a few trees away from where you and stan were.

he looked over to you, a smile gracing his face. "it is now." uris was never bothered by the fact you often crashed the private bird-watching hobby of his. you knew he enjoyed quiet time in complete silence besides the occasional birds chirping. this was how it was found out that you had taken a liking to often just sitting and relaxing with your favorite person.

you started to move quickly by placing your backpack down before either of you could change his mind. with your hands placed on the back of your tied flannel, you crouched down before finding a comfortable position to sit in. then reaching into the bag, you retrieved the water bottle to take a sip.

after putting it back away, you sneaked a peek at him and saw that he was already watching you. your face flushed and you quickly faced away. not wanting to make a big deal of it, you started a conversation instead.

"you ready to talk yet?" you questioned, not wanting to push him but had already gave him a few minutes to gather his thoughts. he was an over-thinker. you knew him so well that almost all of the time, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

he watched the bird in the binoculars once more. admiring the red and orange colorful feathers before setting it down on the other side of him. letting out a loud sigh, he pondered. "i don't know y/n. am i a disappointment to you?"

stan? stanley uris? you opened your mouth and closed it again quite speechless with disbelief. disappointment? why would the person who you think is the definition of perfect think that he is a disappointment?"

“no way bubs! never." you stated in the most serious tone you've ever used to reassure him. looking into his brown eyes you noticed a few golden flecks that always caught in the sunlight. stan was a beautiful person inside and out but y/n hoped that he knew that.

"are you sure?" he asked, sheepishly and glanced down at his hands. if stanley couldn’t look you directly into the eyes, there was definitely something wrong. you took this as a chance to open up some feelings of your own and grabbed his left hand with your right, interlocking the fingers.

his breath hitched at the sight and he observed your hands together. a pair that fit perfectly and he felt his heart skip a beat at the thought. being as you were still confused, he took this as an appropriate moment to peer up at your face but he caught your eye again instead.

stan felt tears forming in the back of his eyes. figuring he should just tell you sooner or later, he let you know. "uh, so ever since the bar mitzvah, my dad and i have been distant. i just feel like i’m his disgraced son and a failure all the time."

he half-whispered the whole thing. inside he was feeling so ashamed that he told you this with such a sad tone full of dejection. this was shocking, making you completely quiet for a few moments to process the explanation. the tears had won, prickling and slowly starting to glaze over his eyes. your heart was breaking into pieces at the sight.

"it's been like almost two years though? maybe he doesn't know how to go about the situation. you should just get to the bottom of it and confront him tomorrow stanny." suggesting with a soft smile on your lips.

“i don’t know about that y/n, but thanks.” he chuckled, subtly glancing at your lips before clearing his throat and looking away again. while he watched the area, you rested into the crook of his neck. on the towel between the two of you was your right hand still intertwined with his. your eyes flickered up to scan the tree trunks. you gasped loudly at the sight above and patted stanley’s arm to grab his attention.

the two of you watched the branches above closely, your fingers squeezing his tightly while watching in awe. a bird’s nest was leaned up against the trunk of tree. you and stanley sat in silence to witness it. being as it was so quiet now, the only sounds that could be heard were little chirps coming from it.

“is that baby birds?” you whispered excitedly. rubbing over his thumb with yours. he watched how your face softened in awe. truly appreciating that you enjoyed when he shared this specific hobby with you.

his eyes widened when he finally realized the feeling in his stomach. butterflies. probably a whole zoo full of them. that was how much he liked, no, loved you. he shook his head and snickered at the fact you had the decency to talk quietly. “no need to whisper, y/n/n. we’ve been talking out loud this whole time. so, they won’t leave.”

you giggled; a sound that made him feel all mushy inside. stan loved your laugh and knew that if you asked him to do anything right now that he would in fact do it. smoothly letting go of your hand, he moved it rub your shoulder in comfort.

this was until you felt him slowly replacing the position of his fingers and they were repositioned underneath your chin. tilting your head upwards gently, he whispered softly now. it was almost as if he was scared that if he raised his voice to much, it would ruin the moment. “is this okay?”

the curly haired boy looked into your eyes for reassurance and you stumbled over a response by his sudden rush of confidence. lost in shock by his brown and golden flecked eyes, all you could get out was chopped, raspy response. “of course, bubs.”

stanley leaned in slowly, still a bit afraid you would change your mind. proving him wrong you quickly followed to meet him halfway. his lips finally brushed against yours and you felt his hand rub along your cheek with such delicacy. you scooted closer so you could easily put your hand in stan’s hair and massage his curls. he let out a small moan and smiled into the kiss.

before he pulled away slightly to let the two of you breathe, he rubbed your cheek once more. you kissed both corners of his lips and then his nose. a sweet laugh falling from his lips at the gestures.

you grabbed his hand again, playfully sizing them together and he watched. casually asking, “so do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“of course, i’d love to stanny!” grinning you leaned in to peck his lips once more but it turned into a small passionate kiss instead. after you both pulled away again, he questioned with a smirk. “should we tell the others, babylove?”

you let out a small hum, as if you were thinking of an answer. though, you broke the act with a smirk. one that he caught and snickered already knowing how this was going to go.

it wasn’t a hard decision, seeing as you felt like returning a little pay back of your own from all of the teasing. so, your response was simple. “nope. let’s see how long it takes for them to figure it out.”

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