#It's just sad my coworkers give more of a shit about me than my supposed family

[cxpperhead]

// Warning: Negativity under the cut -

Happy December to all my lovely friends and followers out there. You're probably sick of hearing about my woes but currently I'm in a very negative headspace due to ongoing issues at home and I've decided to switch off my inbox on all muses. With work getting super busy and choosing to isolate myself at home, I don't have the energy or enough of a positive outlook to focus on anything to do with roleplaying until 2024. Apologies to everybody waiting on responses be it for asks or threads. I simply cannot focus on anything at all other than work and sleep. Home life is nonexistent at this point and will stay that way for my mental health for various reasons I do not wish to speak about so if I am not very talkative this month, please don't worry and with some luck, things will get better and I will be able to write again. Until then, I hope you all have a lovely December and tons of good holiday vibes.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Steve came home from work one day pissed as hell. His coworker had made three of his little ones cry, the service dog that was supposed to visit the long-term patients was cancelled last minute, Dustin texted him to cancel their weekly phone call because he and Suzie were fighting, Hopper had to postpone his monthly check-in because El caught a stomach bug at school, and Mrs. Ryans stopped him in the lobby to tell him that she's praying his "no good devil worshipping roommate" received the damnation he supposedly deserves.

So Steve burst into his home, fuming, face flushed red in his anger, and startled poor Eddie out of his armchair. "I called Mrs. Ryans a stupid old hag and I'm not apologizing!" He announced, practically throwing his shoes into their proper place. "She's stupid and I hope she breaks her other hip."

Eddie started his usual task of making brownies (he's a firm believer that chocolate can make anything better, and he knows that Steve's got an almost pavlovian response to the smell of brownies now) while Steve changes out of his scrubs and into something more comfortable. He'd completely bypassed his own closet, instead stealing one of Eddie's prized Iron Maiden tees to go with his threadbare pajama bottoms. Eddie opened his mouth to ask what had happened that day to make Steve so upset, but Steve didn't let him.

"Seriously, why does she hate you so much? You're like the sweetest person ever. So I told her to stop talking shit about you, and she was like, 'why should I,' so I told her that my baby sister would slap the wig off her bald little head if she kept being shitty to my boyfriend, and I might have actually given her a heart attack. Should we go check on her?" Eddie froze at Steve's admission; first of all, a baby sister?? But, more pressing, boyfriend. "Oh, my god, I might have killed our elderly neighbor. El wouldn't actually slap her! Wait, yes she would. She's still learning social norms and I don't think Hop told her that hitting old people is frowned on. I don't- does Hop know not to hit old people? Eddie, my dad might abuse the elderly."

"Stevie, honey, slow down," he finally settled on. Eddie bypassed their little dining table to sit Steve on the couch. "One thing at a time. Mrs. Ryans is not dead, we'd have heard all the munchkins singing by now."

"I'm not going to prison for shocking our neighbor to death, Eddie, I'd rather be melted into a giant flesh monster," Steve piped up. Eddie didn't have time to unpack whatever that meant, so he ignored it.

"You're talking about your sister like she's not used to humans."

"She's not, really. She was ex- she was, um, bad home life. Before we met. She's Hopper's daughter now, but before, her dad fucked her up. Like, doomsday, raise the children in isolation, fucked up." Steve was marginally calmer, but his anger gave way to nerves as everything he'd said caught up with him. "I called you my boyfriend."

"Good to know you've got beauty and brains, sweetheart," Eddie cooed at him, smacking an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. "Not every day I have such a cute guy screaming at old ladies for me."

"J-just the one old lady. You're not mad I called you my boyfriend?" Eddie paused there, giving Steve the flattest stare he could manage.

"Steve. I've been flirting with you for two years. Bruce has been trying to get me to propose to you for one of those two years."

"Bruce just had a baby, he should worry about-"

"Bruce tried to explain to you that we're dating and you called him a funny guy, honey. Congrats, you're the last to know."

"We're dating?" Steve shrieked, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh. Steve's face was so incredulous, like he really had no idea, and as sad as it was to see that, it was just too funny to Eddie that they'd been dating in almost every sense for more than a year before Steve seemed to be aware of it. "Are you telling me I could have kissed you this whole time?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. Stevie, you really didn't know? I thought it was obvious how much I love you, sweetheart."

[slamminslamminmcgill]

thinkin abt working w gene takovic & being generally shit at the job and he gets tired of reader slacking off and decides to give reader a little motivation to do better ……….

workplace harassment but if it was epic 😌

my immediate thought was "reader comes into work high and gets disciplined" so im adding intox to this hope that's ok :3

warning: intox, possibly dubcon? (you're high and he's your superior)

You hated your fucking job.

I mean, it wasn't horrible. It was just a run of the mill food service position at the Cinnabon in the mall. Standing for 8 hours, shitty customers, all the glitz and glamour you could expect, but hey, free cinnamon rolls was a nice perk. It's not like you were planning to make a career out of this anyway. You could afford to dick around on the clock from time to time. Plus, y'all were short-staffed anyway, so what were they gonna do, fire you?

Well, today, you had pushed your luck too far.

It was supposed to be a busy day, some huge sale happening in the mall, and that meant a bunch of entitled pricks needing their cream cheese frosted insulin bombs. You didn't want to risk strangling the first boomer that yelled at you, so you figured why not pop a few edibles before your shift?

Big mistake. You realized that when you clocked in.

One of your coworkers called out, and another was coming in late. That meant it was just you and your manager Gene tackling the first few hours. He wasn't horrible to work with, but a skeleton crew was no one's idea of a good time. Let alone the fact that you'd be stupid high in about an hour and there'd be no one else to cover your ass.

When they kicked in, it didn't take long for him to notice. You were staring at the register blankly for maybe 5 minutes, but it felt like eons in food service time. Once your other coworker came in, Gene took you into his office to reprimand you, making sure to lock the door before he slumped down at his desk.

"Look, kid. I get it. I don't wanna be here either, but you can't be doing that. Not only is it against the law, but it's dangerous. If you're spacing out like that you could cut or burn yourself, and-"

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You ever talk to your cat and wonder if they can understand a goddamn word you're saying? That was basically this. You were just staring at how his nipples poked through his officially licensed Cinnabon® polo shirt. He was kinda cute, for a sad old man. Wait, fired? Did he just say fired? You snap out of it and make eye contact with him.

Gene sighed. "You haven't been listening to me, have you?"

You shook your head.

"I said, corporate has kind of a zero-tolerance policy for drug use on the job. I'm supposed to fire you, but," He got up from his chair and approached you, stroking your cheek with a pensive look on his face, no doubt a dumb, ditsy look on yours. "you're a good kid. I'd like to see you do better. I'm hoping there's another way we can work this out. Call it positive reinforcement, yeah?"

You nodded. Positive reinforcement. Sure, whatever.

He smiled. "Good boy."

You whined. Oh fuck, that felt nice to hear. He could tell.

Before you knew it, you were on your knees in front of him, servicing his cock with your mouth, messily. Drool was seeping out from your lips, pooling onto what you hoped was the floor and not your shirt. The weed was making this far more intense than you'd ever imagined. His taste was addicting. However deep you could take him just wasn't enough. You ran your tongue all over him, his head, his shaft, his balls. God, it was so fucking good. Shit, you were probably enjoying this more than he was.

That's not to say Gene wasn't enjoying it. He threw his head back and sighed. He rested his hand on your scalp and ruffled your hair, making you whimper around him. "That's a good boy."

Positive reinforcement indeed.

[we-survive-endlessly]

Word vomit about my poor mental state below, feel free to ignore 😬👍

I have literally been so stressed lately that my skin picking is out of control and I’m having heart palpitations. Dealing with grief, my dog being sick again, work stress, life stress, stress and sadness about the state of the world, like my body just can’t take it.

There’s so much I could say about my job. I recently went to my supervisor about the fact that my coworker who I share an office with sleeps all day. Which was really scary and hard for me, but it’s damaging my uncle’s company and the stores she is supposed to be paying the bills for are super behind because of it. Like getting three to four vendors a DAY reaching out about past due bills. Anywho my supervisor said she would take care of it but now our hr person is leaving which will dump a lot more work on everyone and I doubt anything is going to change. They’re also training me on payroll with the expectation that I’ll be able to do it by myself when the person that trains me goes out of town in like a month. Meaning that NO ONE that will be there will know how to do it or help me if weird situations come up. So now I’m stressing about that.

I was just given a promotion that came with a $4 raise which is amazing. Like I’m now making $6 more than when I started and I haven’t even been there a year which should really excite me but all I can think about is the fact that I still don’t make enough to live on my own and that the average salary needed to live comfortably alone in California is $80,000 a year which I am nowhere near. I’m almost 28, and I still live at home with no expectations of being able to move out anytime soon. Every Sunday night I want to cry because I can’t believe the weekend is over and I have to go to work again tomorrow and I’m going to have to do this probably for the rest of my life because retirement seems like a pipe dream if we even have a society or liveable world when I get to that age anyways.

I see what is going on in the world both in other countries and with people I care about here and I cry every day because while I do what I can to help it never feels like enough and I have to listen to family members with just the most awful thoughts and opinions. We live in a world where the people in charge don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything so long as they get paid and I’m TIRED.

My future, the future in general, feels hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless. And yet here I am. I’ll go to bed early tonight to try to calm the panic in my chest and escape into my dreamland, even though going to bed early just makes tomorrow feel like it comes even faster, and I’ll go to work. Just like I do every weekday. I’ll pretend like everything is fine. Like my coworker sleeping all day doesn’t infuriate me to the point of feeling physically ill. I’ll come home and take care of my dog and then instead of cleaning or exercising or doing any of my hobbies or anything else that I want to do, I’ll just scroll my phone because I’m too tired to do anything else. Maybe I’ll eat dinner, maybe I’ll just go to bed because I’m too nauseous to eat. And I’ll repeat. For the rest of my life because this shit is never ending.

Anyways, if any of you read this, I’m sorry it’s so negative and depressing. I’ve really been trying to tell myself the things that I would tell a friend who felt this way but it’s just not working. I’m just in a really awful hopeless place and I’m sorry.

[moonjxsung]

Thank you. Grab a cup of tea, this is so silly but I just need to tell someone, and I don't want to worry my friends. I've been... I'm not sure if bullied is the right term, but some people at work have been pretty mean to me these past months. It got really bad a few weeks ago, bad enough that I broke down and cried with my boss because it's just insidious enough that you can't act right away, it's small things, like lying about my schedule to make me look bad, tell me lies so I look stupid in presentations in front of people (I'll definitely exorcise all of this in a fic one day). My boss kept telling me he thought it was just honest mistakes from them, but he would talk to them and I think it worked to an extend. Except today was the Christmas party (God I sound like a bad Netflix movie). I helped them. We had to be dressed up in silly costumes so I did it. And was basically excluded from the whole thing. A few people from other services came to tell me they felt a little bad for me. And while I don't really care (this is just stupid work stuff) it's just so mean spirited it's getting to me tonight. They did the same thing to another guy (one of my friends) months ago. And tonight while it was happening I was thinking "oh yeah. it's my turn now". It makes me sad because now everyone just know something is wrong. Everyone want to ask me if I'm okay. And I want to pretend I am, because again, this is silly, but at the same time I want to be honest. It hurts being excluded. It sucks knowing this is just because these people don't like me "because I'm too nice, boring and don't fit in" (their words). I don't celebrate Christmas with my family anymore so this was the only time I could pretend to be normal and well. Now if I say something I'm the bad guy who's blowing this out of proportion. So I'll keep smiling and telling people I'm okay with this. But it sucks. Oh, and I ranted enough so I'll stop here but they did the same for my birthday. Told me they organized a party for me and long story short, there was no party when I showed up. I'm sad. That's it. I'm just sad.

Bestie your coworkers sound like awful people first of all. SECOND I am SO sorry you’re going through this ☹️🫶 aren’t work politics just the fucking worst?? In early college I worked at a clothing store and the people there just did NOT fw me in the slightest and there was one girl in particular who would constantly make jokes about how she was annoyed when we got scheduled together or when I would ask for help on things I didn’t know how to do. I think I left crying nearly every single day that I worked there, but it was just also this feeling of WHYYY are you treating me like this? Like what on earth do you gain by being a shitty person to a colleague??

I’m sorry they excluded you from the Christmas party, that’s supposed to be a fun time and it’s so insidious to gang up on you like that. I would’ve cried to my boss too! But I think what you’re doing right now is the best thing you can do- persist and smile through it. Don’t give them the reaction they want, at least not in front of them. Your personality will get you just about anywhere these days, and the more you can build on your strength of putting up with shitty people, the more you can use that skill to get you even further than they are in life. They’ll just be stuck being miserable pieces of shit who find joy in bullying others (yes that’s literally bullying) and YOU will be the bigger person who learned how to live through it and tell the tale. Keep your head up, these people aren’t worth a second of your spare thoughts or your tears!!! And if you’re ever around them and they’re being pieces of shit you can always message me on here and we will talk shit about them in real time. OKAY? Okay. I love u. And you deserve better!! Rooting for you always and I have your back even if it’s through a little phone screen. Fuck them fr 🚮

Sending you all my love!!!!!! 🫶🫶🫶☹️💓❤️❤️❤️

[tickling-giggles]

Ello ello so I wanna request lee!gakuho maybe, sorry awkward lmao

Loosen up

A/n: Nahhh I’m slow I was half asleep when I first read the ask and thought it said bakugou. 😭😭 Also you can not tell me that they all have a bestfrenemie type relationship IDC IDC YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND.

TW:Swearing, Alcohol, Drinking, And ofc Tickling

———————————————————————-

Gakuho was currently upset because he heard students walking past complaining. How E-class looks like more fun than what they’re doing.

“ITSSSS FRIDAY GUYSSS Y’KNOW WHAT THAT MEANSSS” Irina giggled contained with excitement as she burst into Gaku’s office seeing her other two coworkers. “Umm oh yaaaaay weekend time?” Karasuma tried to guess Not really.

“OOOOH OOH I KNOW I KNOW slumber party” korosensei wiggled his tentacles in excitement. “Uh—well no but we can come guysss you don’t remember” Irina began to whine. They all looked at eachother confused. “Where supposed to go drinking as an reward you know that fancy bar yeah that’s where we’re going” Irina squealed.

“That shits boring” Gakuho bitterly answered. “Wow what’s up with you Gaku?” Karasuma asked genuinely concerned. “Gakuuuuu come one you promised.” Irina pouted as she started tugging at his sleeve. “Yeah and plus it came be BOrInG if you suggested it” korosensei teased a bit.

“No piss off”. He ended up going. “They had gotten to the bar they had their own little room to themselves and a device to order whatever they like. “Gehee this is so exciting” korosensei immediately picked up the tablet. “Hey I want to see too Irina leaned on korosensei trying to see the menu. “OH I WANT THIS” “ME TOO AND THIS ASWELL”korosensei and Irina started tapping ordering stuff like there was no tomorrow. “Come on guys hurry so me and Gaku can order” Karasuma smirked.

🍣After ordering🍺

“Oho maAn that was good I might have another” Irina soberly chuckle before reaching for the tablet. “Yeah me too Gehee” korosensei looks at the tablet again with Irina.“So you gonna keep up the act or what?” Karasuma turned his head toward his friend. “I don’t know what your talking about” Gaku side-eyed him. “Man it’s crystal clear that your upset I know that something had gotten to your head just don’t know what” Karasuma clarified.

“Tch just drop it I’m so over what the kid said anyways” Gaku scoffed as he chugged some more of his beer. “So someone did say something what was it?” Karasuma asked. “Nothing I said just drop it” Gaku tries changing the subject.

“Awww what’s wong GaKuu” Irina drunkenly crawls next to him. “Don’t e saddd” korosensei jumped right next to him. Them to trying to cheer him up by stroking their hand on his face like a cat was slightly tickling his next. “Pfft G-guhuys come on knohock it off” Gaku lightly squirmed around in be tween his yellow and blonde friend.

“Noho your saddd” Irina looked up at him before looking back down. “Wait wait wait Gaku are you ticklish?” Karasuma asked. “Noho I’m nahat w-would you gehet these idiots offa mehe” Gaku had started to giggle more.

“Hmm if ya don’t tell me what’s wrong I’ll have them tickle ya” Karasuma grinned evilly. “Drop it” “alright don’t say I didn’t warn ya” Karasuma smirked. “Hey Irina, Gameshow little Gaku here is ticklish we should totally find out where” Karasuma smiled at him.

“Oho really nohow” korosensei used one tentacle to keep his wrists together. “He’s still said that’ll really help him become happy so do ya worst” Karasuma pulled the table back to give them enough room and then sat on his shins. “I swear if any of you tickle me I will WAHAIT—“ Gaku attempted to threaten before Irina started liglty clawing his right side while korosensei grazed the other and Karasuma lightly squeezing his lower thigh

“guhuhuys nohoho stohop ihit” he began giggling. “You wanna talk or are you still feeling bratty” Karasuma boldly teased. “Yeaha not if you still sad then no” Irina slowly became more herself. “Yeah Gaku don’t be stubborn” Korosensei leaned in near his face. “Ihi’m nohohot nohow quitehehe”

“heheheEHEEHy KAhaharasuma dOHOHont” his squeaky laughter slowly rise as Karasuma squeezed his hips a bit. “Oho too ticklish there noted”

“Hmmmm what if it’s his ribs” “Or his armpits” Korosensei and Irina smiled earning an reaction from Gaku even though neither one of them has touch either one of those places. “NohOoho DOhoHoOhn’t” Gaku anticipation was getting the best of him. “Ahh yu guys ready 1…………2……2 and 1/4…. 2 and 1/2 ….2 an—“ Karasuma slowly counted just to mess with Gaku.

“JUuhust dohoHo it”

“Okay you asked for it not”

“GYAHAHAHAHAHAHA OHOHO GAHAHAHAD”

“Gehee wow You are so loud Geez people are gonna think we’re torturing you” korosensei striped face teasing the life outta him.

“IIHIHIRINAHAHAA NAILSEHEHEHHEE BAHAHAHAD”

“Aww you can barley get out a sentence this must really be taking a toll on you” Irina cooed. “Oh well his funeral” Karasuma shrugged his shoulders as he moved one hand off of his hip and started raking at his thigh.

“AAHAHAHAHAA KARAHAHAH*snort*KARAHAHAHSUMAHAHA YOHOHOU JEEHEHERK”

“Wait did dihid you just snort?” Karasuma asked as he lightly giggled ignoring the insult and acknowledging that fact that he just snorted. “OMGEEE WAIT DO IT AGAIN KARASUMA” Irina begged.

“NAHAHAA KARAHAH— GAHHAHAHAHA KOHOROSENSEI ITS SOHOHOHOHO BAAHHAHAH*snort*BAHAHAHAHAD”

“Gehe his highest rib is mega ticklish and the dips off his underarms” korosensei noted. “OH OH LEMME TRY” Irina getting so giddy about his snorts. “GYAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOHOU*snort* TRYNAHAHAHAHA KILL MEHEHEHEHE”

“Maybe— ooooh how all three at the same time” Irina looked at both Karasuma and korosensei.

“Yohohou arehehe trynahahaha fuhucking kill mehehe”

“Gehe hey if I recall you told us to ‘do it’ referring to tickles” korosensei chuckled. “Ready 3 2” not finishing the countdown which threw off Gaku.

“GYAHAHAHHAAH IHIHITS SOHOHOHO*snort*BAHAHAD AHAHAH FUH*snort*FUHUCK YOHOHOHOU ALL AHAHAHA”

“See now that’s not nice” Karasuma teasingly pouted.

“YAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*snort*IHIHIHILL*snort* IHIHILL DIHIHIEEHEHE “Gaku shrieked.

”Excuse me! we don’t aloud child’s play in here I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave” the waitress burst into the room before kicking them out.

“Greahat nohow we gotten kihicked out ”Gaku whined in embarrassment. ”Dude I can’t believe you let a random kid get to you” Karasuma shockingly responded after he told them while collecting there belongings as they gotten kicked out.

“Yeah that’s shocking coming from you buttt on another note I want to hear more snorts when we get to your place” Irina teased wiggling her fingers at him. “GOHOD NO” Gaku immediately ran next to Karasuma as a shield.

“Gehehe it’s your fault we got kicked out so I think Miss Irina is right Gehe” Korosensei chuckled and teased right along with Irina. “Karahasumaaa help mehe” Gaku whined.

“Ah well i do agree your laughter was quite intriguing” Karasuma smirked as he cracked his fingers. Which had trigger Gaku to run as fast as he can to his house with all three of his friends chase right after him.

[foxymoxynoona]

there was a married couple in front of me in line at this bakery today and the man gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then they talked some more and then a few minutes later he gave her a kiss on the forehead, his arm around her the whole time 😖 what got me even more was that the couple was middle-aged, like they weren’t young.

PDA in the form of a kiss on the cheek and or forehead always gets me more than, like, let’s say groping or full-on making out, but even more so when the couple isn’t young, like it just gives me fuzzy feelings, you know? old couples being so affectionate with each other in public always always ALWAYS squeeze my heart, in a good way. like, man, i want that. i wish for that kind of love. i wish for the kind of love where my partner doesn’t hesitate to kiss me on the cheek or forehead in public just because they can and they want to, and they’ll do it until the day i die 😖

but then i hear my coworkers hatefully speak about their spouses and joke about wanting to get divorced and i just go 😐 again. then i hear about more divorces and abuse from my own relatives and i just go 😐 again.

like it’s just a cycle at this point. like goddamn. i know marriage is not a walk in the park because i’m not stupid, and i understand that people do vent about their spouses whenever they displease them because that’s normal in any kind of relationship, but the people surrounding me just sound so miserable and their stories just make me go “maybe a divorce is in order” (internally, of course.) it’s like watching someone get mauled to death and people keep telling me that’s normal and i’m like no it’s the fuck not?? what are you talking about?? it’s normal to hate your spouse and talk shit about them 24/7?? i’m supposed to want that for myself??

now that i think about it, i remember this one tweet where it said something along the lines of “growing up i didn’t understand why in movies straight couples were depicted like they hated each other but now that i’m a fully grown adult i realize that yeah movies were never wrong after all because the number of times i see couples irl who literally hate each other is astounding like i thought that was just fiction but it’s not”

anyway i don’t know where i’m going with this rant. it started off cute because i couldn’t stop thinking about the couple but then it just spiraled so i’m so sorry for that 😔

I think you're seeing the conflation of a few different things: 1. Many people are still influenced very young to marry and follow "traditional" lifestyle paths. 2. We grow and change in life, it's very normal that someone who is a decent partner for us in our 20s isn't still the right partner in our 40s, but divorce and ending long-term relationships is still a drastic life change that it can take a lot to actually do. Furthermore, not everyone has the safety or security to end a relationship that isn't right for them anymore. 3. People sometimes use dark or critical humor as a way to vent or bond with others going through similar rough times, but it can get out of hand, make problems worse, and be really shocking to people not inside of that. 4. Some people really are just mean-spirited assholes who think they're part of a cool club if they mock their significant other. (There's literally a whole genre of this under Boomer humor that's just really sad and not funny to me.)

And probably a million more things! I think it's incredible sad! But on the bright side, there are plenty of relationships that are exactly that sweet and supportive one you saw. There is life after a young relationship too. There's no way to know whether that middle aged couple is a new romance or an old one and that's beautiful.

[lifewithoutmeds]

December 12, 2022

monday evening. 8:07 p.m. lorena’s out with the gf, presumably. 

she had mentioned she would be out looking for a job, “getting lunch,” and going to the gym, but we share locations and after a brief period driving around silverlake, she seems to have gone to Ramen of/on York, then her gf’s apartment, and is now roaming around Eagle Rock Plaza, oddly, as it’s one of the shittiest malls around, but i guess it’s something to do and it’s local and free to look, so why not.

i wfh today and it was rough. i was waiting on a template from a coworker, but he didn’t send it, and so all day i spent trying to figure out how to account for my time when i really hadn’t done much except attend an hour-long meeting. i’m not sure whether it’s more frustrating to have too little time to do too much or too much time to do too little, not sure why i can’t have a happy medium.

have been reflecting a LOT with lorena around/not around. it’s making me realize what i’ll do just to be in someone’s orbit. it’s like i’ve found the ultimate beauty, the ultimate muse, the ultimate ... whatever, and for a while it was enough for me to just be near it, to bask in its glow, to be permitted in its presence, and if that meant just shoveling up the shit left behind or cleaning up after it, it was still something, and maybe it’s all i thought i was good for/all i deserved, but i’m realizing .... that i’m giving my best and my most for a person who takes it for granted, and i make it easier/enable her/reinforce her beliefs that she doesn’t have to lift a finger and i’ll do all the heavy lifting if it means i can be around her.

i’m realizing ....

i want to be worth more than what i give/can give in a situation. i want to be appreciated for my humor and intellect and not just my generosity. i want to be around people who respect and even ask for some boundaries. i want to be around people who have nothing to gain from me outside of honest-to-goodness friendship.

i have never been so starkly aware of being in a transitional time.

i feel restless, i feel weirded out by time. the days are too long. the days are too short. nothing is getting done. i am waiting. i am lola on the third iteration of Run Lola Run, all the avenues have already been pursued and are dead ends, and now i just run straight ahead, looking, waiting for some sign that any of this is the way it’s supposed to be. a part of me wants to lose weight and thinks there will not be another opportunity as good as right now, but a part of me is just sad and lazy and wants to curl into a ball and not get up. i can’t believe my antidepressants have effectively doubled and yet i am still quite unequivocally depressed. i feel strangely empty and yet tortured.

a part of me believes that i am slowly outliving my usefulness to lorena. she needed a place to stay, she needed a reason/encouragement/landing pad/crash pad/launching pad to get a foothold in LA, and i willingly provided it all, pulled out the red carpet, and made it so easy for her to settle in and get comfortable here. there is some mutual respect. there is some mutual regard. i genuinely am a fan of her singing and guitaring, and i think she has a respect for my writing and my ability to express myself. we’ve shared things, talked about things. i’ve “jokingly” asked her to remember me when she makes it big, whether it be as a pilot, or influencer/tiktoker, and she’s said she will gift me a million dollar house if she does so, and i know that a part of her genuinely means it, but a part of her is very dismissive of everything. i do think she really appreciates all i do for her but i’m just a nice, friendly person who does things, gives things, etc. and i’ve been very helpful and nice these past few weeks and haven’t expected much in return. i feel like sometimes when she comes in, it’s SO reminiscent of nida, half apologetic, half wanting to make it up to me, but mostly just passing through, taking a shower, grabbing some clothes, and making her way out again. she’ll bring me an egg mcmuffin and/or play a round of guitar hero with me, then shower, and off she goes again, and i’ll see her again sometime the next day. 

should i be glad? should i be grateful? there was a time when i would have flown on a plane just to be on the same flight as her, just to catch a glimpse of her coming and going every couple of hours. i would’ve gone to any of her layovers just for a dinner with her. and now, i get to see her nearly everyday. i spent an entire weekend camping with her in pismo beach. granted she was on her phone half of the time and not paying attention to me but THE OTHER HALF OF THE TIME she was, and i loved it.

this situation won’t last long. she’ll find a new place to live soon, whether it be with the gf or in some other situation that doesn’t involve me, and .... maybe we’ll get drinks here and there, maybe she’ll come by for guitar hero, but .... but i feel like upon outliving my usefulness, that may be the end of the Lorena chapter of my life.

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part two] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

A failed friend date turns into a day of fun and laughs with a rather odd coworker. [Dazai x 1stPOV!F!Reader]

3,274 words

Warning: suicide ideation (like, it's Dazai, c'mon now.)

note: I'm glad some of ya'll seemed to enjoy chuuya's chapter! I decided to just upload Dazai's and then we can move on to the story. Please enjoy! Tags in the replies.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"Keiko-- Keiko, it's two PM!" I said into the phone, sending an apologetic look to my coworkers. "And I'm at work. You can't be calling me, especially when you're drunk so early in the day."

"Uggghhhh, you're so mean!" I sighed softly at Keiko's response, the office phone on my desk beginning to ring.

"Keiko, I have to go now, I'm sorry! Call Taichi and tell him to bring you home."

"Wait-"

I ended the call, rubbing my eyebrows as I picked up the other phone. "Armed Detective Agency, how may I help you?"

It's been around three months since I've started working at the Agency, and I have to say, it was a pretty great job. It paid well, kept me on my toes with the many different cases we took on, and my coworkers were great... despite how weird they were.

"That's like the seventh time your friend called you this week," Ranpo spoke up from his desk, the man literally surrounded by snack wrappers.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyebrows. "I know, I'm sorry everyone. She's not usually like this... I know she likes to drink, but... never to this extent."

"Maybe there is something going on?" the cute Atsushi suggested and I frowned. "Maybe you can try to find out?"

"It wouldn’t be wise to just push yourself into someone's private life like that," Kunikida added and I nodded in agreement.

Of course I couldn't. Not with who her boyfriend was. I was her best friend, but even I knew not to step in. "Besides, she always says she's okay when I ask..." I said thoughtfully, too distracted to continue my work. I could believe her, right? Besides, she had Taichi. He loved her, and always made sure that she was protected and taken care of. He always made sure to be around her when he wasn't away, keeping her to his side at all times. I thought maybe he was being a bit too protective, but I also understood because of his... profession.

"Alright, alright, we have a schedule, people. Let's not get too distracted here," Kunikida exclaimed and I laughed softly. The only one with a schedule was the super punctual man himself, but I still went on to do my work.

"Speaking of work..." I started, unimpressed as I Iooked to the empty desk across the office. "Where the hell is Dazai?"

Atsushi just hung his head and sighed, Kunikida gritting his teeth at his desk. "I tried calling him but he wouldn't pick up," Atsushi sighed again and I huffed, standing up from my desk. "I'll take my 30 now. I'll be in the cafe and I'll try to get Dazai to bring his scrawny ass to work."

The Agency was on the fourth floor of the building while the cafe was down on the first, very convenient for me. I was lazy and the coffee and food was good. I dialed up Dazai's number as I descended the four flights of stairs, pressing my phone to my ear.

At the top of one flight, I stopped when I heard a familiar ring tone blare out, and when I looked down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw the man of the hour. His brown hair was wavy as ever, his signature tanned jacket looking immaculate. I watched as he just looked at his phone, watching it ring before he put his phone in his pocket.

I hated him. "So you were just gonna ignore me?!" I shouted down the stairs. Dazai whipped his head up, eyes going comically wide.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, practically running up the stairs right towards me. I gasped and back away quickly, back hitting the wall as Dazai caged me between his bandaged arms. His forehead pressed against mine and I will my face not to burn as he looked at me with those pretty brown eyes of his. "I missed you."

My heart skipped a beat, my mouth going dry. Still, I glared up at the man. "We just saw each other yesterday," I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the feeling of his soft breath against my face. I was thankful my voice didn't crack. "And you have plenty of paperwork to do still on your desk."

"Ehhh, I'm tired and I'm busy," Dazai nonchalantly waved that off, now standing away from me and waving his hand dismissively. "Got better things to do."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah? Like what?"

With that, Dazai took my hands in his, a hopeful look on his face. Here we go again. "Double suicide."

"No." I immediately declined him. "My answer is still the same as it was last week."

Dazai visibly deflated, covering his eyes dramatically. "Sweet death... she evades me yet again..."

"Yeah," I deadpanned, brushing past Dazai and heading down the stairs. "Anyway. I'm heading to the cafe to get something to eat."

"Oh!" Dazai exclaimed, hooking my arm with his as he quickly came up to my side. "I'll go with you!"

"You have work to do!" I yelled at him, trying to push him back up the stairs. "Go before Kunikida has an aneurysm."

"But I don't wanna!" Dazai whined, quickly turning the tables on me. Now he was behind me, his arms wrapped around me and pinning my arms to my chest. I felt his breath against my left ear and I shivered deeply. "I wanna spend time with you..." he whispered softly, his voice dropping. I bit my bottom lip, looking over at him over my shoulder. I shivered again, the usual brightness in his eyes gone. I've only seen that look on his face a handful of times, and it never failed to make me feel completely on edge. Like I was in danger.

I liked it.

"Ugh," I sneered, rolling my eyes and shaking myself out of his arms. "Fine, fine. I'll treat today, okay?"

"Yay!" Dazai's jovial nature returned as he followed me to the cafe. I shake my head at the strange duality of the man. We sat across from each other, the redheaded waitress named Lucy that obviously had a crush on Atsushi giving us some menus.

As I looked over the menu, I looked over at Dazai, the man humming as he mulled over his choices. I bit the inside of my cheek, just feeling that maybe there was more to Dazai than he let on.

The weekend soon arrived and I was in a bit of a sour mood. I was at the boardwalk, sitting on an empty bench after getting off the phone with Keiko. We were supposed to spend the day together, but she had called me thirty-minutes late, all of a sudden saying that she couldn't make it.

Her tone of voice worried me, she sounded rushed and breathless, totally unlike her. "I'm okay. I'm sorry for flaking out so suddenly," she said before she ended the call. I blinked at the screen, a bit put off by the entire thing. Just what was up with her?

Though I couldn't dwell on it, for there was a presence behind me. "Well, well, look what we have here," a teasing voice whispered into my ear before blowing into it. I shrieked, jumping off the bench before spinning around.

"Dazai!" I hissed at the laughing man standing on the other side of the bench. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Bet it got your heart pumping, huh," Dazai hummed happily, skipping around the bench and right over to me. "Bella, I missed you~" he hugged me tightly in his arms. I sighed deeply, half-heartedly wrapping my arms around him in return and giving him a pat on the back.

"We saw each other yesterday."

"Eighteen hours is too long, bella."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from the huge and giving Dazai a look. "You're so dramatic, dude," I say with a laugh, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, well I thought this would be a great place to think about how to commit suicide," Dazai began and I gave him another look. "But, I saw my bella looking so sad and lonely! I just had to rush to comfort her!"

Dazai hugged me again, squeezing me tight. I let out a struggling breath, writhing a bit in his hold. "You're killing me!"

"Oh! Let's commit do-"

"No, oh my God!"

I turned and stormed away from the suicidal man, shaking my head when I heard him call out for me. "Bella, wait!" He latched onto my arm, pressing his cheek against mine. "Tell me what's wrong. I am your trusted friend and coworker~"

"More like trusted pain in my ass," I mumbled before sighing, walking over to the boardwalk railing and staring out into the ocean. "It's Keiko. She was supposed to be with me today, but she just called and canceled..." I frowned deeply, eyebrows pinched in worry.

"What else did she say?" Dazai asked quietly, having gone serious once he saw the look in my face. "How did she seem?"

"Off..." I answered immediately before I looked over at my companion. "Or am I just imagining things? Yeah, I'm disappointed she flaked out but...." I hung my head. "I don't know..."

"Well, it could be nothing," Dazai suggested. "Or it could be something. There's no way for you to know."

I made a face at his vague ass answer before sighing again. "I can only trust her. She was the first friend I made when I moved to Japan, and I was excited to see her today. I've been having a rough time lately."

"Is something bothering you?" Dazai asked, and I shivered feeling his gaze on me.

"Eh... just depressed," I answered offhandedly. "Lonely. Normal sad girl shit, ya know."

That made Dazai snicker under his breath. "Yeah, I know. But luckily for you," Dazai started, arm draping around my shoulders and pulling me to him. "I'm here to save the day!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed before I wrapped my arm around his middle, letting him hold me against him. "You'll hang out with me today?"

Dazai grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

Time flew by so quickly, that I was surprised to look at my phone and see that it was damn near seven in the evening. Gaping, I looked up, seeing that the sky was slowly turning dark. "Holy crap, Dazai. Did we really spend the whole day out here?" I asked in shock, looking over at him. "What the hell did we do?!"

"What didn't we do," Dazai whined, slumping against me. "I'm tired... and you still wanna ride the stupid ferris wheel!"

"It's not stupid," I said with a pout. "Besides... we're already in line."

"Meh," Dazai grumbled, still keeping his body pressed against me as we waited in line. He was behind me, his chin pressed on my shoulder. I tried not to shiver as I felt his breath along my neck.

Soon enough, we were in our carriage and slowly riding up to the top. I took a few pictures as we did so, Dazai looking over in amazement.

"You think the drop from up here would kill me?"

"Yeah, and would scar everyone here."

"Oh yeah... can't have that."

I rolled my eyes, glancing over at him and pausing for a bit. Dazai was still looking out over Yokohama, an expression I've never seen before on his face. He almost looked... sad. Very handsome, his side profile absolutely perfect. But he still looked sad. I took a quick picture, smiling as I looked over it on my phone.

The carriage stopped and I couldn't help but grin as we just swayed softly up in the air. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Dazai. It would have sucked if I had spent it alone."

"Ahh, don't sweat it, bella. I couldn't possibly leave you out here alone," Dazai answered dramatically and I laughed and rolled my eyes. 

I felt a vibration in my pocket and I grabbed my phone, smiling at the cute selfie that Keiko sent to me.

'I'm so sorry for bailing! I'll make it up to you, I promise! ❤ mwuah'

"Is that Keiko?" Dazai asked and I nodded, sending her a quick reply.

"Yeah. She seems to be doing okay," I said, feeling a bit relieved.

"That's great!" Dazai exclaimed, getting up from his spot and carefully making his way to sit beside me, much to my horror.

"Dazai! We're not supposed to move around!"

"We're fine!" he waved me off dismissively. "Now you can stop worrying about Keiko and focus on what's important. Me."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You?"

Dazai hummed. "Yes, me. And how I'm taking you home tonight."

My jaw drops, face heating up at his words. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Dazai answered, his voice dropping a bit as his gaze and entire mood changed. His gaze was darker now, his lips curled up in an almost dangerous smirk. "I think it's time we stop tiptoeing around each other and just take what we really want."

My mouth went dry and I quickly became flustered, turning my head away. Immediately, a hand is grabbing my face, Dazai digging his fingers into my cheeks as he forces me to look back at him.

"Nuh uh, you look at me when I'm speaking."

His authoritative tone makes me freeze, heart pounding in my chest as I stared at Dazai, completely bewildered. I knew there was something more about him than he had let on, and whatever it was, had me in fight or flight mode.

"Now, when we're done here, we're gonna leave and head back to my place, okay?" he asked me, but his tone made it seem like it wasn't a request, and it sure as hell didn't match the seemingly innocent smile on his face; not when it didn't reach his eyes.

I nodded, Dazai removing his hand from my face. His smile sent shivers down my spine.

"Good."

"Mmn... fuck, Dazai..." I moaned and gasped softly, the man on top of me littering my neck with angry red and purple marks, two of his fingers working inside my pussy. I was completely naked on his bed, Dazai only in his underwear-- and his bandages still wrapped around his arms and chest.

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Dazai whispered against my neck, curling his fingers and smirking when I cried out. "Call me Osamu. Don't make me tell you again."

I frantically nodded my head, crying out again as he sped up the pace of his fingers, his mouth moving down to my chest. "F-fuck, Osamu!"

"That's it," he whispered, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth. My fingers curled into his soft brown hair, head tilting back and eyes screwing shut as Dazai continued to pleasure my body.

It wasn't long until he pushed his hard cock into my wet pussy, the both of us groaning at the feeling of us finally connecting. I was on my knees and elbows, pillow placed under my hips. Dazai started out slowly, biting his lip as he watched his dick disappear inside of me.

"Fuck... I'm gonna burn this sight into my memory," Dazai groaned, making me whine as I shook my head.

"D-don't stare like that..."

Dazai chuckled softly, his hands grabbing my hips as he started to move faster, thrusting harder. I moaned and whined, it seemed to be the only thing I could do while Dazai fucked the shit outta me. "Osamu... please..."

My whining made the man above me grin widely, his thrusts becoming rougher, almost wild as he suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful off my hair. I yelped when he yanked me up, my back now pressed against his chest and his other hand wrapped around my throat.

"What is it, bella?" he hissed into my ear, pounding away at my pussy and making me cry out again. God, it was too much all at once. "What does my pretty little subordinate want?"

I whined. "I want to cum... please Osamu..."

He cackled, pushing me back on the bed, grabbing my hips so hard, I knew I was gonna bruise. "Cum then," he hissed down at me, pushing my face into the mattress. He fucked me relentlessly, fingers finding my clit and rubbing harsh circles. That made my vision go white, my scream muffled as I came hard, body going rigid as pleasure overtook my body.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Dazai grunted. He pulled out, ignoring my whines as he stepped off the bed. "Get on your back."

I barely rolled over halfway until there was a strong grip on my ankle, my body being pulled down the length of the bed. Dazai stood at the end, wasting no time in pushing my legs back by the back of my knees, and plunging his cock back into me.

I looked up at him through teary eyes, and I knew I should have been afraid of the mad look that was in his eyes, the way his lips were curled up in a snarl. But it just made my pussy clench around him in arousal, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I came a second time as he did his first, and much to my ultimate pleasure, we weren't finished there. We pleasured each other through the night, until we wore each other out and fell asleep entangled in the sheets.

I woke up the next morning, groaning in pain as I felt my body ache. I forced myself to sit up, looking around blearily and humming softly when I found Dazai sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back to me.

"Good morning," he sang to me and I giggled softly, carefully moving to kneel behind him. The blankets fell from around me and I pressed my bare chest against his back. "Hm, that's nice."

"Morning," I said softly, peeking over his shoulder. "What are you do-"

I stop, staring as Dazai wrapped seemingly clean bandages on his heavily scarred left arm. I swallowed thickly, my mind running at what could have possibly been the cause of those scars.

But deep down, I knew that the cause was Dazai himself.

"Do... Do you have enough?" I asked softly, not knowing what else to even say. I didn't want to pry or seem insensitive, just having to get over this metaphorical punch in the gut myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Dazai answered, turning to face me with a cheery smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, I was flat on my back, Dazai on top of me with his lips pressed against mine. It was easy for him to make me forget about what I saw, his kisses stealing my breath away.

"I have to go," he said softly, pushing himself off me after a moment.

I nodded solemnly, watching him continue to get dressed. "Alright. See you at work tomorrow?"

He smirked at me. "You know the answer to that."

I rolled my eyes again, just as my phone started to ring. I grabbed it, sending Dazai a quick smile before answering the call.

"Hey Keiko, guess who got fucking laid." That made Dazai snort while I grinned, though my grin fell as I didn't hear Keiko go off like I thought she would. "Keiko?" I shared a look with Dazai.

"Hey... I need you. Can I come over?"

[mrs-gucci]

Wedding Bells [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. maurizio calling reader “tesoro”™️. some wedding shit. light aftercare. grinding. creampie. implied consent. dirty talk, name-calling/degradation but in italian ;)

(possible) tw’s: infidelity/extramarital affair. brief mentions of tobacco use. implied age gap (reader is over 21, no more than 10 years difference).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname)

You can’t believe this is really happening.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You’re supposed to be the one in the white gown, the one set to marry Maurizio Gucci. 

He insists that this overzealous ceremony is just for the press, that he’s not truly in love with her, but sometimes you see him looking at her and you lose faith. 

You almost didn’t come today. You almost just stayed at the house and pretended that this never happened, but you know that even if this marriage is a sham, it’s still a big day for Maurizio. 

And I can’t say no to him.

The crowd cheers as they kiss up at the altar, turning to face everyone in the church with big smiles on their faces. You clap softly, forcing a smile upon your face as they walk down the aisle together. 

He looks so handsome in his suit, the striped pants and impeccably polished black leather loafers completing the look. Maurizio was always dressed to the nines, but today, he was dressed to the tens. 

His eyes meet yours, and his face falls for a moment when he reads the underlying sadness etched in your outwardly happy expression. 

Everyone starts piling out of the church and you go along with them, hopping into one of the cars to take everyone to the headquarters for the reception. 

The car pulls up to the building a few minutes later, and you walk in, taking a deep breath. 

You should just go home, Y/N. You went to the reception, and that’s enough.

You look around at the decorated walls, all the guests mingling happily, all here in support of Maurizio and Patrizia. 

You’re here too, sure, but you feel oddly out of place standing amongst the other guests.

Perhaps it’s because you’re the only non-native guest here. Perhaps it’s because you’re not here in support of the couple. 

You find my place at one of the front tables and of course, you’re sat facing Maurizio, practically head-on. Great.

The meal is served and the room goes essentially silent as everyone begins dining. You make some casual conversation with the people sitting around you, some of them your coworkers, but you can’t stop myself from looking over at the groom from time to time. 

As night runs into early morning, you’ve found some solace in the champagne and the company of Giovanni, someone you’ve come to really like spending time with. You both have a lot in common and you get on great; you’re always joking around the office. 

Each time you begin talking with Giovanni, however, you feel a particular set of eyes on you. And, when you look over, you’re met with the deep brown eyes of your lover. 

You show him no reaction, simply smiling sweetly each time your eyes meet, as if you were simply boss and employee. 

Soon, you feel utterly suffocated by the thick air of the room, so you decide to step outside for a short while. You hope to slip out unnoticed, and you do for a little bit, but then someone comes out behind you. 

You don’t even need to turn around to see who it is, and the familiar sound of a lighter gives all the confirmation you needed.

Maurizio walks out and leans over the balcony, a thin cloud of smoke passing through his lips as he looks out onto the horizon. 

“I…”

He begins, trailing off. 

“Have you gotten a slice of cake yet? It’s quite good.”

You huff with a drop of humor.

“No, but maybe I’ll do that now, since this balcony is no longer exclusive to just me.”

As you turn around and begin to walk towards the door, his hand snatches your wrist and pulls you back. Your body collides with his, your back pressed against his front. 

You can feel his smoky breath against your ear, and your skin erupts in goosebumps. 

“Please, stay. I want to speak with you.”

There’s a brief moment where you truly believe that you’re going to say no this time, that you’re going to walk away.

But I can’t say no to him.

He feels you relax and lets go of your wrist, allowing you to return to the railing. He stands behind you, taking another drag. 

“I guess I should begin by apologizing, for you having to sit through the ceremony.”

You take a sip of champagne. 

“As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m simply your assistant.”

“Yes, but I know that you’re more, much more, than that. I can’t imagine that sitting there the whole time was easy. But, I want you to know that I appreciate you coming, it would’ve been weird not seeing you today.”

You look over your shoulder, up at him.

“You know I’ll always be here for you, Maurizio.”

He smiles down at you. “I promise that it won’t always be like this for us, tesoro. Things will change, and we will be able to show our love to the world.”

His hand runs down your arm gently, then falls to your hip, where he squeezes lightly. 

“You look so beautiful tonight. I wish I could kiss you, touch you, worship you like you deserve.”

You blush, stepping back a bit, now fully pressed up against him. His breath catches in his throat as his hand comes forward and trails up, fingers teasing just below your breasts. 

He leans forward, lips leaving a series of open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“It’s been nearly impossible to stay away from you, mi tesoro. I just want to have you right here, right now…”

A whimper escapes your lips as his trail down to your shoulder. 

“Potrei alzare il vestito e fotterti, climelo.” (I could just pull your dress up and fuck you, christ.)

He breathes, grinding his hips against you, growling lowly in your ear. 

“Piegati sulla ringhiera, ti fa urlare il mio nome…” (Bend you over the railing, make you scream my name…)

You’re breathless as you try to resist the urge to let him take you right here. 

But, you know you can’t, it’s way too risky. Someone’s bound to notice.

“Maurizio…”

You whisper. 

“We can’t, not here.”

Something seems to switch in his brain and he freezes suddenly, almost as if he’s been snapped back into reality. He stands up straight again, breath shaky as he takes a final drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

He groans in frustration, running a hand through his hair. 

You turn around, resting your hands on his chest, staring up into his eyes. 

“It’s okay.”

“I need to have you tonight, tesoro, please.”

Maurizio says, resting his forehead on yours, lips mouthing at yours. 

You sigh.

“How? There are people everywhere, it’s too risky.”

A smirk suddenly stretches across his face.

“No one will be in my office bathroom…”

You bite your lip, holding back a smile. 

“Shall we meet in there?”

“I’ll have to sit with Patrizia for a little while, talk to some people, just to keep up appearances.”

He says, nodding. 

“But, how about we meet there in...let’s say an hour?”

“Saro li l’accordo.” (I’ll be there.)

You say, smiling up at him. 

He returns the expression. 

“Allora ci vediamo.” (See you then.)

One Excruciatingly Long Hour Later

You quietly step into Maurizio’s office, gasping when a pair of arms wraps around your waist, pulling you into the office. You look up and see him, immediately jumping into his arms, crashing your lips together. 

He carries you into the hidden bathroom, closing the door quickly behind him. His gaze is hungry as his darkened eyes rake up and down your dress-clad figure. 

“Bend over.”

He growls, head nodding towards the marble vanity. 

You bend yourself over, resting on your elbows. There isn’t much time before someone notices Maurizio’s missing, and you can tell he knows this as well, a sense of urgency in his fingers as he undoes his belt and pants.

You look at his reflection in the mirror, the sight of him in his wedding suit incredibly arousing, a certain sense of promiscuity surrounding us. Even more so than usual.

Maurizio quickly bends down and pulls the dress up over your hips, moving your panties to the side before rubbing his tip through your wetness. 

“We’ll have to be quick.”

He says, looking at you through the mirror’s reflection.

You nod, and he lines himself up with your entrance, chin resting on your shoulder as he pushes in, sighing loudly. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, his cock stretching you out deliciously. You whimper as he pulls back and thrusts back in, your body jolting with his forward motion. 

“Tesoro.”

He moans into your ear, picking up the rhythm of his hips. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“O-Oh, Maurizio.”

You whimper, walls clenching around him.

One of his hands comes up from your hip and wraps around your throat, fingers shaking your jaw slightly. 

“Guardati, tesoro, guardati ti scopa allo specchio.”  (Look at you, treasure, watch yourself get fucked in the mirror.)

Your eyes go wide when you look at the reflection, seeing Maurizio positioned behind you, hips jackhammering into you. His glasses are steaming up slightly and his brow is furrowed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and we moan together, the sight so erotic. 

“Per favore, fottimi di piu!” (Please, fuck me harder!)

You say, pushing your hips back against him. 

“Sono cosi vicino!” (I’m so close!)

A low growl rumbles through his chest and his back arches as he pounds you harder, turning his head so that his lips are right at your ear, breathing heavy.

“Si, tu sborra per me? Vuoi guardarti su tutto il mio uccello?”  (Yeah, are you going to cum for me? Are you going to watch yourself cum all over my cock?)

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the loud noises threatening to spill from your lips. 

“M-Muh...M-Maurizio!”

You cry out, hips jerking as you spill your release all over his cock.

“Ah, oh fuck!”

He’s close, too, now.

“Sto per sborra! Oh Dio, ti riempiro io!” (I’m going to cum! Oh God, I’m going to fill you up!)

“Fallo, ti prego! Lo voglio tantissimo!” (Do it, please! I want it so badly!)

His eyes go wide for a moment as his hips stop, pressed deeply inside of you. He cums with a long, low moan, hips rutting as he rides out his high. 

“Prendila, prendila dentro di te...” (Take it, take it all inside of you…)

You fall forward onto the cool marble, body limp for a minute after your climax. Maurizio stays buried deep inside of you until he regains control of his breath, pulling his now-limp length from you, quickly tucking it back into his wedding pants. 

He helps you pull your dress back down and straighten yourself out. 

You gasp when he spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours, holding you against him. Your lips meld together perfectly, your hands gently tugging on his hair. 

You two pull away moments later, panting softly. 

Maurizio looks sad as he reaches down to hold your hands.

“You’re amazing, beautiful, you’re perfection.”

He kisses your knuckles, which makes you smile. 

“Ci vediamo presto, tesoro mio.” (I will see you soon, my treasure)

You nod, lip quivering slightly when the reality hits. He’ll be gone for two weeks on his honeymoon. 

You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close, allowing a single tear to fall down your cheek. 

“I’ll miss you while you’re away.”

He buries his face into your neck.

“I will call you at some point, I promise.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the office door. It’s Giovanni.

“Maurizio, ci sei?” (Maurizio, are you in there?)

His eyes go wide as he pulls away.

“Si! Sarò fuori tra un attimo.” (Yes! I’ll be out in a moment.)

Maurizio looks down at you one last time, tears in his eyes.

“Addio, tesoro mio. Fino a quando ci incontriamo di nuovo.” (Farewell, my treasure. Until we meet again.)

[leiascully]

Fic: Citius, Altius, Fortius (MSR, T)

This ficlet is dedicated to the commercial about the adopted Paralympian that makes me sniffly every time.  I don’t even know what they’re advertising.  All credit to AAVE for the “hip” slang Mulder uses and basically all cutting-edge words in American English.

The Olympic theme was more of a suggestion than a fanfare, but Scully still leaned forward and turned the volume down a few more notches.  She could feel Mulder giving her that crinkly-eyed smile.  She knew the remote worked just fine over the distance between the tv and the couch, but it felt like it worked better when she leaned.  It was like Jackson and his video games, a sympathetic movement.

“I don’t want to wake Gracie,” she said.

“Good plan,” Mulder said, and put his arm comfortably around her shoulders as she leaned back.  Jackson snorted and looked away, but peeked back at them to check in.  Scully was glad she was there for him, the Ginger from his journals, she and Mulder solid presences in his life, bracketed by the ghosts of his adoptive parents.

“I didn’t think you two would buy into all this jingoistic shit,” Jackson said.

“We are still employed by the United States federal government,” Scully pointed out.

“They’re basically our coworkers when it comes to repping the flag,” Mulder said laconically.  “Gotta respect the hustle.  Besides, compared to a lot of national anthems, ours kinda slaps.”

Jackson winced, predictably, at Mulder’s attempt to use slang.  Scully sensed Mulder mentally adding a few tallies to his side of the imaginary scoreboard.  It was all so sweetly familiar, a song she hummed in her dreams.

“Still,” Jackson said.  “It’s all so fuckin’ rah-rah America.  I thought you knew better.  Like you said, you work for the government.  You know all the shit they pull.”

“For two weeks every two years, I support the finest athletes that wealth, health, grueling training, and the opportunities inherent in living in the country possessing the world’s largest economy can produce,” Mulder said, a trace of irony audible in his voice.  “And also anyone competing against Russia.”

“It’s a distraction from all the shitty things happening in the world,” Jackson said.

“It’s a damn good one,” Mulder countered.  “At least they’re not supersoldiers.”

“Some of them might be,” Jackson grumbled.

“Those abs,” Mulder said, sounding a little mournful.  He patted his stomach.  “I should have gone for the upgrade when I had the chance.”

“When I was little,” Scully said slowly, “my mother would tell me that the prowess of Olympic athletes was proof that God loved us.  She said that their bodies were miracles.  I don’t think about it exactly the same way now, but there is something almost holy about that quest to go farther and faster than anyone else ever has.  In a sense, we fly without wings.  We climb higher than we thought we could.  We run faster and farther than early humans imagined.  We lift heavier burdens.  We test our nerve and our resolve in feats of endurance.  We subject our bodies to almost-unbearable forces and conditions.  We test the laws of physics, twisting in the air or gliding over the ice.  For a moment, we defy expectation, gravity, and in a sense, mortality.  The athletes of the Olympics show us the potential of the human body and the human spirit in a way that our daily lives don’t, and we feel like we are there with them as we perch on the edges of our seats, our bodies echoing their movements as if we could lend them our strength.  It’s possible that sometimes a distraction is a welcome respite.  For a short time, the world is focused on something other than war.  Many of the results may be predictable, but astonishing things happen and we learn to expect the unexpected.  Athletes from nations and peoples that have been overlooked and exploited dazzle us.  A runner falls and someone pulls them up.  Someone may shatter their leg and because of that tragedy, someone else realizes their lifelong dream.  The Olympics are a microcosm of our own attempts to strive for perfection, a supercondensed spectacle that reminds us of all our potential.  In pitting us against the people of other nations, the Olympics somehow unite us in the pursuit of a singular goal, reached by various paths: a gold medal, and the accolades of an awestruck world.”

“I love it when you give a dissertation on everyday life,” Mulder murmured, kissing under her ear.

“A spectacle that displaces the people who are already the most fucked-over,” Jackson said, but there was a little less disdain in his words.  “A profit machine for corporations and a propaganda outlet for governments.  It’s a slippery slope from athletic superiority to eugenics.  Only the strong survive.”

“George Orwell said that athletic competitions were essentially a proxy for war games,” Mulder told her.  She craned her head to look at him.

“I thought you liked the Olympics.”

“I do,” he said, “but Jack has a point.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Jackson said.

“I wasn’t saying the Olympics are perfect,” Scully argued.  “Just that they could be perceived as creating a net good.”

The broadcast cut to commercial, sentimental strings music welling quietly from the speakers.  Mulder looked away, rubbing at his eyes.  Jackson chuckled.

“It’s that easy, huh?” he said.  “All they need to get into your psyche is footage of someone winning something and some sad music, maybe a Morgan Freeman voiceover.”

“Wait until you get old,” Mulder said.  “Then you’ll be welling up at every Visa commercial.  These ads are designed by experts in psychological warfare.  The Olympic mindgames.”

“They remind us of you,” Scully told Jackson.  “You weren’t supposed to exist.  You weren’t supposed to survive.  And here you are, capable of things your father and I could never have dreamed of.”

“Whatever,” Jackson muttered, looking away and definitely not dabbing his face on the shoulder of his t-shirt.

Scully settled back into the couch.  Grace would be waking up soon - she wasn’t an Olympic-level napper - but until then, she had a moment to enjoy the half-scripted pageantry of the Games, savoring the bittersweet combination of impossible victories and unpredictable defeats.  It wasn’t unlike her own life, in a way: she’d accomplished things she’d never imagined, uncovered truths too painful to endure, run up against her own limits over and over and overcome them all to be sitting here, in her comfortable home, with her stalwart partner, dragged back from the dead, and their miraculous children.  The glint in Jackson’s eyes as he argued with Mulder was more precious to her than any medal; the sound of Grace’s sleepy sighs stirred her heart more than any anthem.  She stood atop the podium of her destiny.

She leaned her head on Mulder’s shoulder and watched the marathon swimmers cut through the water, one stroke after another, keeping themselves afloat for hours. She understood their exhaustion.  She understood their triumph.

“I like the dressage,” Jackson said unexpectedly.  “It looks like mind control if you do it right.  I’m not, like, asking for a pony.  I just think it’s cool.”

“I knew we could find some common ground,” Mulder said.  “What’s your opinion on medals for horses?”

“Horse-sized medals,” Jackson said immediately.  “Bankrupt the IOC.”

“That’s your son,” Scully told him.

“No denying it,” Mulder said in a smug voice.  The broadcast changed to gymnastics and they all sat forward, watching in awed silence, as history was made.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

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The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”  

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn��t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.  

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.  

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth.  “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder. 


“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

[drabbles-mc]

Sometime Around Midnight

Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon:  I have a request (feel free to ignore). I’ve been recently listening to that song “Sometime Around Midnight” by Airborne Toxic Event, and basically I think a fic based around those lyrics would fit ANY Mayan. I’d love to see someone give it a go :)

Warnings: language, angst, alcohol & smoking, EZ being a Sad Boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this request for a little while now. I was trying to figure out which of our boys I wanted to write it for, but then when I started drafting it for EZ this sorta just fell out of me haha. It doesn’t follow the song exactly, but I hope you like it nonetheless! Enjoy some angst for the Boy Scout xo

EZ Taglist: @ly--canthrope​ @noz4a2​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @mayans-sauce​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @amandinesblogofstuff​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my stuff or stuff for specific characters lemme know!)

They had warned you that it was a bad idea to get involved with any of the guys when you started working at the clubhouse as the new bartender. It had been a playful warning, but a very truthful one. And you hadn’t planned on crossing the lines of professionalism. You’d worked as a waitress and a bartender in what felt like a million different places, and you never had an issue when it came to keeping your personal and professional life separate. Don’t get involved with coworkers, and don’t get involved with the regular patrons. Working at the clubhouse meant that the guys from the MC fell into both categories simultaneously. Which you would’ve thought would make it easier to keep yourself from getting involved with any of them.

Yet somehow you found yourself making one little exception after another when it came to Ezekiel. There was just something about him that was hard to say no to. On top of the fact that you could stare at him all day and night without getting bored, there was something in the way that he spoke and smiled that made you feel safe. So you found yourself staying after everyone else had long since gone home to share one last beer with him. Letting him take you home on his bike turned into letting him come inside for a few minutes, which eventually turned into letting him stay the night. It all snowballed and you could’ve stopped it, but you didn’t want to. You knew it was a bad idea but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. Both of you agreed to that. Neither of you were really in a place in life where you were up for intense commitment. It should’ve been fine. But, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be serious, there was something in you that couldn’t handle the way that he would still get strung out over his ex. You knew that pretty much everyone had that one person that was more difficult to get over than the rest, you just didn’t think that EZ’s was going to be someone who was still in his life so frequently. You knew that you had no right to be jealous, after all it wasn’t like the two of you were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was still something that you couldn’t stomach. So you cut the cord. It hurt, and you didn’t really want to do it, but you knew that for the sake of your own sanity you had to.

That was two months ago. And in the span of that two months, you never came to the bar on nights that you weren’t working. You didn’t want to make it awkward for yourself, or for Ezekiel, or for anyone else, for that matter. But things felt like they were getting back to some kind of normalcy. So, when Bishop told you that he was going to have someone else work the bar when a couple other charters came to town, but that you should still come and have a good time, you figured there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity to feel out the situation.

You walked through the doors of the clubhouse to the party already being in full swing. You smiled at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in one spot. There were a lot of faces that you had become familiar with in your time working the bar there, but there were some new ones too. Carefully maneuvering your way through people to get to the bar, you smiled at the young man that was doling out drinks as fast as he could.

“A beer when you get a chance, Ricky,” you said with a laugh.

He looked over at you, eyebrows raising when he realized it was you, “Shit, Y/N. Not used to seeing you on that side of the bar,” he chuckled, “Or seeing you all prettied up.”

You laughed as you snatched the bottle away from him, “Very funny.”

“Nah, I mean it. You look good.”

You smiled and took a sip of your beer, “Thank you.”

As you were scanning the room, Bishop appeared in front of you. There was a soft smile on his face as he pulled you into a hug, “Glad you came, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your cheek rested against his kutte for a moment, “Thanks for the invite,” you paused, “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

There was no hesitation as he nodded, “Of course. This is your bar, too.”

That was the last comment either of you made about it as you strayed to other topics. You had him tell you about some of the people that you didn’t know—the faces that you didn’t quite recognize. He was more than happy to dish out whatever details you wanted to know, enjoying that you wanted to know as much as you could about the people that came in and out of the clubhouse.

When he got flagged down into another conversation, he left you with a gentle kiss on your temple before slipping off into a new cluster of people. You leaned back against the bar, happy to just listen to the music and watch the party continue to unfold into the controlled chaos that it always was.

You were just about to ask Ricky for another beer when a young man appeared on the stool next to yours. You could feel his eyes on you and you looked over at him with a smile. His patch said Oakland and you instantly ran through what you could remember of their roster as you tried to put a name to his face.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, turning your body so that you were facing him, “Sure can,” you glanced over at your friend, “Another beer, please, Ricky. Put it on this guy’s tab,” you gestured to the biker sitting next to you with a laugh.

He laughed as he held out his hand to introduce himself, “Manny. Name’s Manny.”

You chuckled as you shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Manny. I’m Y/N,” you scanned him up and down, “I haven’t met you before, have I?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am. Just transferred from Spokane.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “that’s why I don’t recognize you.”

“You know everyone else down here?”

“Almost,” you laughed.

The two of you sat at the bar and talked. You hadn’t expected to get so wrapped up in conversation with him, but it was a welcome surprise. He seemed sweet, funny. You noticed the way that he was slowly but surely leaning in closer the longer the two of you talked. You pretended that you didn’t notice, soaking up the attention while you could have it. In another day or so he’d be gone and you’d be left to your own devices again. Besides, it was nice to feel wanted.

Manny was halfway through a sentence when he stopped, seeing someone behind you. A grin broke out across his face as he stood up and walked over to whoever it was. You turned to see Ezekiel standing there. He greeted his MC brother with a hug, but his eyes were glued on you the whole time.

“’Sup, Reyes? Was wondering if I was gonna see you around here tonight,” he chuckled, blissfully unaware of the tension.

“I’m never far,” he looked back and forth between the two of you before his eyes settled on Manny, “Mind if I steal Y/N for a minute? Gotta talk to her about something.”

He nodded, stepping back out of the way, “Sure thing,” he turned to you and flashed a smile, “You know where to find me if you wanna put another drink on my tab.”

You laughed and nodded, “Thank you.”

EZ waved for you to follow him and the two of you made your way out of the intensity of the clubhouse and out onto the deck. The air felt a little more breathable. This was the first time the two of you had any one-one-one time in months, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“So,” you sipped on your drink as you leaned back against the railing, “how’ve you been?”

EZ nodded, and you could see it in his eyes that there were a million thoughts running through his mind, “I’ve been alright. You?”

You shrugged, “Pretty good. Can’t complain,” you paused, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

The words got caught in his throat. When he’d seen the way you were talking and laughing with Manny, he felt a sliver of what it must’ve been like for you when he would come to you torn up about Emily. He knew that he had no right to be jealous, and for the entire night he was fighting the urge to go up and say something to you, to Manny, but his willpower finally wore out.

You stepped in closer and you gently rested one hand on his arm, “Hey, you good?”

Everything about you in that moment was distracting. He couldn’t look into your eyes without being hit with an onslaught of memories. The warmth radiating from your touch, and the wave of perfume that gently washed over him as you stepped in nearly knocked him off his feet. Every single memory of you that he tried not to think about, that he tried not to replay over and over again, hit him like a freight train.

He shut his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You cocked one eyebrow, knowing him too well to believe what he was saying to you, “You sure?”

“I miss you,” he said, not able to look you in the eye as he did.

You couldn’t help but to let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head, “Do you really? Or did you just not like seeing me talk to someone else?”

He pressed his lips into a line, knowing that you could easily see through him. He sighed, “He’s not gon—”

You cut him off, “Don’t,” your tone was kind, but still firm, “EZ, I think it’s probably better for the both of us if you don’t finish that sentence. I don’t say shit to you when I see you with Vicki’s girls all over you, right?”

“That’s not the same as a patch talking to you.”

“So that gives you the right to stick your nose into it?”

He knew it was a losing argument. He really didn’t know where he thought the discussion was going to go. Every logical bone in his body had been telling him to not bother walking up to you in the first place, but he did anyway. And now he was paying for it.

“I wanna be friends with you, Ezekiel,” you told him honestly, “So when you’re ready for that, let me know. But I don’t think you are yet,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Enjoy the party.”

You walked back inside, and took a deep breath as the door shut behind you. You walked over to the bar and got another beer before locating Manny again, eager to pick up where you had left off. You sauntered over to where he was sitting on the couch, letting out a laugh as he pulled you down onto his lap. You lazily draped one arm around his shoulder as you let yourself get roped into the conversation that they were having.

You had never been the kind of person to go out of your way to try and make someone else feel jealous. That wasn’t what this was about. However, you couldn’t deny the fact that seeing that pang of envy present in EZ’s face as he walked in and saw you draped over someone from a different charter, it felt good. You knew that beautiful mind of his was replaying the nights when the two of you had been in very much the same position, and how he cost it all for himself.

Despite the fact that it was starting to creep into the small hours of the morning, the clubhouse was far from empty. That wasn’t particularly unusual, but you just wanted to be home, in a room that wasn’t weighted with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. However, the warmth emanating from Manny’s hand resting lightly on your thigh wasn’t something you really wanted to give up just yet.

You leaned in a little closer to his ear, “How attached to this party are you?”

He chuckled, looking you in the eye, “What’s your offer?”

“I’ve got beer at my place that won’t make you keep running up your tab,” you trailed your nails lightly along the back of his neck.

“In that case,” he laughed as he tried to play off the fact that you had just sent a chill through his entire body, “I’m not attached to this party at all.”

You laughed as you hopped up off his lap, holding your hand out to pull him off the couch. He let you tug him along towards the door with a smile, trying to toss money onto the surface of the bar to cover his tab before leaving. Ricky let out a whistle and a laugh as you made your way towards the door and you couldn’t help but to shake your head.

The two of you walked down the steps of the clubhouse and Manny looked over at you, a smirk on his face, “You up for a ride?” he paused, “On the bike, I mean.”

You chuckled, nodding as you followed him, “I think so.”

He handed over his helmet with a smile, and you let him adjust it for you as you explained the way to get to your place. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see EZ standing on the deck, eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. You tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long. Before you knew it, you were hooking your leg over the back of Manny’s bike and wrapping your arms around his waist, settling against him as he pulled out of the lot.

EZ could still hear the rumble of the motorcycle as he took off down the steps to head towards his trailer. Angel had watched the entire scene play out and he went after his brother who he knew was about to do something undoubtedly stupid.

“Yo, Boy Scout, where you going?”

“She can’t just fucking…” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence as his feet slowed to a stop.

“You gotta let that shit go, ‘mano,” Angel caught up to him.

EZ heard what his brother was saying, but he was too busy reliving every night that the two of you had peeled out of the clubhouse just like that. The thought of you having those moments with someone else knocked the wind out of him. He thought about how things unraveled, about how you had let him go because he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. He knew he had no right to feel like he should be chasing after you, but he still wanted to. There was nothing more for either of you to say, but watching you ride off like that with someone else left a knot in his stomach.

“EZ,” Angel piped up again, clapping him on the back, “C’mon. There’s nothing for you out here right now. Let’s just go back inside.”

EZ let his brother drag him back to the clubhouse, back into the midst of the chaos. It felt emptier now, though. He wondered if that feeling would ever subside, if he would ever be able to fix what he’d broken.

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4?? 

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again 

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

[fernpost]

Cycle 3 - A Meal

[link to ao3]

[first] - [previous] - [next] 

“Do we not have it?” Lup’s voice, just on the edge of unadulterated panic, filters through the room. It is borderline sweltering, and they’ve been at it all day.

If they don’t have it, it’s all been for naught. Taako bites at his nail, racking his brain, “fuck, do we not?”

Lucretia is sitting across the room, writing down notes from the day before. Her hand stills as she looks up, “it’s missing?”

Lup wipes her brow, before snapping her fingers and dropping to her knees, opening a small cabinet. She digs frantically through what they have, “if it’s not here, there’s none. I’ve looked all over- we honestly should have had it sooner but there was so much to do and-”

Taako steps behind her, hands resting on his hips to feign casualness. Lup adjusts her position and curses as she hits her head. Taako is about to comment, when she gasps.

He is silent as she jolts backwards with a cry, hand held in the air in success, waving it in the air, “we have it!”

Taako pulls it from her grasp, making his way towards the stove. Lup follows close behind, “if we had used the rest of the garlic last week, I would have jumped ship in shame.”

“Can’t make Mama Davenport’s special meat stew without it. Who are we to surprise our great captain with subpar stew.” Taako peels it quickly, cutting it up and tossing it into the pot liberally, firm in his lifelong belief that no recipe can have too little of the perfect allium.

Lucretia smiles as she scribbles in both of her notebooks from the table, “and Taako couldn’t have transmuteted more because…?”

Handing the spoon to Lup, he turns with an affronted gasp, resting his hand dramatically against his chest, “Do you think me a subpar chef?” With a snort, he kneels to peek into the oven, checking the status of the bread they are baking, “but actually, transmuted food is never as good as the real stuff. You can always taste the difference. It’ll do in a pinch, but for the occasion the Taaco’s spare no expense.”

“Ah, of course.” She goes back to her writing, content in listening to the two of them cook more.

After a few more minutes of gentle stirring, Taako sends Lup to grab Barry from the lab, where he’s been pouring over the same notes for a few hours now. Magnus, Merle, and Cap’nport should be back within the next half hour, if the Sending note Taako received is to be believed.

Considering it’s from Merle, who's to say. But preserving the heat of a dish with magic is much easier than making a dish from scratch, so it won’t be the end of the world. Anyways, Taako will give Merle shit either way.

Taako hear’s Lup laugh as she approaches, so he knows she successfully managed to wrangle Barold away from his work. He is already tired of their strange almost-flirting rituals, but it’s nice to see Lup so excited about something, even if it is a nerd like Barry.

(Taako is steadfastly ignoring how much he enjoy’s Barry’s company himself. Or Magnus’s. Or Lucretia’s. Or how comforting it is to talk to Merle. Or how welcoming Davenport always is. It all means nothing. They’re all still his coworkers. He definitely never seeks out their company. He pretends not to think about how the last time he was around the same people this long was his aunt, and he pretends not to think about how that ended. And it never feels bad when they leave on dangerous missions to look for the Light. Never.)

“Lup, the bread!” Taako calls out, pulling the stew from the stove and bringing it over to the table. Lucretia picks her notebooks up, bringing them over to the small sitting room and leaving them on the rickety coffee table (it wasn’t always rickety. Magnus had been trying, apparently, to teach Barry a wrestling move Merle had described to him once. Mending only goes so far). Lup crosses the small kitchen quickly, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter and pulling the bread out. It smells absolutely divine, of course.

Barry hovers near the edge of the kitchen, hands hovering awkwardly in front of him, “can I help-”

“Not after last time, Bluejeans.” Taako places the lid on the stew, turning to the fridge to look for the cider bottles he knows are in there somewhere from a small market they found near the end of the last year.

“Can you grab the plates?” Lup asks as she removes the bread from the tin and begins cutting it. Barry is quick to help, pulling the plates down from the cabinet right next to her (he’s trying so hard to not brush against her, it’s almost sad). Once he has a stack of seven, he pulls out the utensils as well.

Lucretia stiffens from where she has made her way to the window in the sitting room, peering out. “They’re back!”

Barry glances over, almost overbalancing and dropping the silverware as he gets distracted. After he regains control of the plates, he asks, “how do they look?”

“No worse for wear. No one’s limping or missing anything important, at least.” She pauses, and squints, “I think Magnus is a little singed, though.”

“He’ll be fine.” Taako waves it off. The big guy not getting injured would be more surprising.

Lup is bringing the tray with the bread over when the front door opens. Taako places the last cider down before calling out, “oh Captain!”

“We have a surprise for you!” Lup yells.

“What do you-” Davenport pauses, and Taako has cooked enough for the gnome to know he is smelling the air. “Is that stew?” He rounds the corner with the others. He looks tired, thick bags hanging heavy under his eyes.

They were supposed to be gone a week for a recon mission, but Merle sent a message saying they’d be a few days later. About halfway through them being gone, Taako had started digging through the books Davenport brought. One was, for some reason, an old cookbook. It was covered in scribbled writing, and a note left at the beginning detailed how Davenport’s mother gifted it to him when he left for his first job on a ship. One recipe in particular had a sticky note marking it, and Taako had glanced through the recipe. It seemed easy enough, so he brought it to Lup to make.

If she had said anything about him being a sap, he’d deny it. He just enjoyed trying out a new recipe.

“Are we going to eat or just bask in the smell?” Taako sits at his normal seat, not waiting to begin to serve himself. He passes the ladle to Lup, watching as the others join them. Davenport remains standing, only moving when Magnus kicks his chair away from the table, gesturing for him to sit.

The ladle is passed to their captain, who scoops some of the stew and stares at it, “is this…” Davenport looks up at Lup and him, squinting, “did you two go through my cabin?”

An overlap of “no,'' and “Taako did,” answer his question, and Taako quickly slaps Lup on the arm. “Was just looking at your books. You expect me to not read a cookbook you’ve got hidden away?”

Davenport doesn’t answer. He scoops up some of the stew and sips at it, obviously hesitant. It’s quiet in the room, before he smiles, “almost as good as my mom made it.”

A cacophony of mockery aimed at Taako blusters out, his own voice just barely rising above as he defends his honor and abilities.

No one mentions how their captain looks a little misty-eyed. It’s been a long three years.

Later that night, Magnus approaches him and Lup as they play cards in the sitting room, vaguely describing a pie his dad used to make on Candlenights, asking if the two of them thought they could recreate it.

Taako is offended that he believes they can’t.