#THEY WOULD BE BEST FRIENDS AND GET THERAPY SESSIONS TOGETHER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaisacobra · 7 months

Text

Deal - Tara Carpenter

Summary: After a long time apart, you and Tara have to figure out if you can still save what you had or if you are too broken to be fixed.

Warnings: A bit of angst (maybe)

Word Count: 3.9K

a/n: This is officially the end of the whole "second best" saga! Thank you so much for everyone who read it till here, it was really fun to write. I hope you guys don't mind the open ending 🤭

Fourth part/Alternate ending of Second Best

Tara couldn't remember the last time she felt this nervous. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror for what must have been the hundredth time, adjusting her bangs again, sweeping them from side to side until they looked almost the same as they did initially. The bright light in the room highlighted her freckles and wide, brown eyes filled with anxiety.

It had been a little over a year since she last saw you, since you accepted a spot for a study abroad program after recovering from the injuries caused by the last ghostfaces attack. You went with Kate, and as far as Tara knew, you and the girl spent that time living together.

She vividly remembered the day you left, as everyone else bid you farewell at the airport while Tara drowned in her own misery in her room. She wanted to go, say something, maybe even plead for you to stay, but she didn't have that right. She had sworn not to get close to you again until she knew she had her emotions under control.

Still, she allowed herself to be a bit more flexible when she noticed that her contact was no longer blocked by you. She let her fingers type an honest and heartfelt message about her mistakes, how sorry she was, and her plans to become a better person in the future. You responded with a heart emoji and nothing more. Nevertheless, it relieved the weight on Tara's chest just to know that you didn't hate her as much as she feared.

Tara remained true to the promise she made, a kind of devotion to you and what you represented in her life. She continued her therapy sessions regularly and decided to set aside some of her pride when trying to find new coping mechanisms, even if some of them required the help of others.

Writing remained her favorite, and she had hundreds of pages to prove it. She would be lying if she said you weren't the most mentioned topic in her journals, but over time, she started expanding her writing, and it became common to see her with a small notebook in her bag at all times, ready to express her opinions and feelings when necessary.

But she didn't have the notebook in hand that day. It was Mindy's birthday, and Tara wanted to be 100% dedicated to her friends, actively participating in games, conversations, and any other activity they needed. She knew she had been a bit absent-minded since you moved away, and it made her friends uneasy, not knowing exactly how to deal with the situation and with Tara herself.

But the day was supposed to be happy and carefree, so that's what Tara was going to appear to be.

Or at least, that was the plan until Tara arrived at Mindy's apartment and heard from the birthday girl herself that you would be arriving any moment. From that point on, Tara only remembers feeling her heart almost leap out of her throat and rushing to the bathroom in a failed attempt to prevent hyperventilation.

She sighed again and gripped the sink so tightly that the knuckles of her fingers turned white. She was anxious to see you, but she had no idea how you would react to the encounter. What if you looked at her with distaste? Or if you didn't even want to look her in the face? Tara knew she would deserve that kind of treatment, but it didn't mean it would hurt any less.

Because the truth is, all this time, Tara just wanted you back in her life.

---

Ringing a doorbell should be a simple task, but still, you couldn't help but stand in front of the door, second-guessing before pressing the simple buzzer.

"You know, if you want, we can turn around and leave, but we both know that's not what you want."

You sighed, turning to look at the girl beside you. Kate Bishop had her hands in the jacket pockets and displayed a fond smile on her face, which you imagined was an attempt to make you feel better.

"I hate it when you're right," you scoffed, but both of you knew your indignation was just a joke, having spent enough time together to read each other's reactions like a book.

This wasn't what you expected when you accepted the offer for a year-long study abroad program at Cambridge, but you also couldn't say you weren't satisfied with how things turned out. You didn't even know you needed this change of scenery, but it made sense after everything you had been through. You needed time away from painful memories.

The British air provided a calmness you hadn't felt in a long time, without fear of seeing familiar faces on the streets or places that would remind you of certain memories or people. Of course, good company also played a significant role.

You could hardly believe it when Kate offered to share an apartment with you near the college. She had already done so much for you, being by your side and supporting you throughout your rehabilitation process after last year's attack. You didn't want her to feel obligated to continue taking care of you.

But Kate barely listened to your concerns, saying that she needed to go to other countries to try to expand her company's contacts and that it would be good to have a roommate to share expenses (even though you were pretty sure Kate had enough money to buy three apartments in central London if she wanted to).

It was one of the best decisions you had ever made, and quickly you and Kate fell into such a comfortable rhythm that it felt like you had always lived together. Your relationship even turned romantic for a while, but it only lasted until you both realized that you were better off as friends, which was agreed upon between the two of you.

"Come on, ring that doorbell already! I'm starving!" Kate lightly pushed you, and you rolled your eyes with affection, feeling a bit less tense with your friend's moral support.

"Starving," you laughed and actually pressed the doorbell, taking a few steps back to wait for the moment the door would open. Your hands were trembling, and you felt as though you were about to sweat even though it was quite cold in New York. Of course, you missed your friends, your family, but that wasn't enough to ease your anxiety.

When the door finally opened, you were faced with Mindy Meeks-Martin, with her signature sarcastic smile and her short, curly hair reaching her chin, much longer than the last time you saw her. "Well, well. If it isn't our new European! Do you only speak with an accent now?"

"You're ridiculous." With a smile, you advanced and enveloped Mindy in a long hug that she quickly reciprocated, both feeling the longing emanating through the touch. The contact lasted for a few long seconds until you both untangled yourselves again. "I hope it's not a problem that I brought Kate along..."

"Pfft! Of course not!" Mindy waved her hand, indicating that she didn't mind the newcomer. "It's even better you brought her because I needed to thank her in person for taking care of you." She looked at Kate with a playful smile. "I think we all know our y/n is too kind to be alone in a distant country. She would try to help a stranger on the street and get kidnapped for sure."

"Hey!"

"Wow, have you heard about the time she took the wrong subway, and then..."

"Okay! Enough about my misfortune! Can we go in?" You interrupted Kate, feeling your cheeks flush a bit. Despite being slightly embarrassed, you were still happy that two important people in your life had the potential to get along, and that was all you could ask for.

Mindy made room, and finally, you entered the apartment. It was new, considering the twin and Anika had recently moved in together, and it was sparsely furnished but beautiful and comfortable enough to feel like a home. You and Kate approached, she with her hands on your back as a silent support, and you greeted your friends with enthusiasm and a longing to catch up.

Chad looked stronger than ever, and he seemed excited about both college and his part-time job as an assistant at a gym. Apparently, he got a discount for training and using the equipment and was clearly taking full advantage of it. He and Kate engaged in a conversation about diets, weights, and workouts that you honestly couldn't follow, but you were satisfied to know that they had gotten along well enough to plan to train together someday.

Anika was happy and radiant, making you laugh as she always did. She wore a cropped top, revealing the huge scar forming a line in the center of her stomach, something she seemed to wear with pride. You never expected this reaction from her; on the contrary, you had imagined that she would want to distance herself from the group, out of fear or trauma. Still, it was reassuring to see that she had stayed for Mindy. They were the kind of couple you hoped would last forever.

Sam seemed somewhat lighter since the last time you saw her, as if a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders. She was smiling, albeit not very widely, and welcomed you with a warm hug that almost made you cry with relief. Part of you always wondered if Sam was glad with your departure because of... well... your conflicts with her sister, but she seemed so happy with your presence that it was almost embarrassing that you had that thought in the first place.

And then, she came. A pair of bright brown eyes that haunted your sleep without permission. It was unfair how she looked as beautiful as the last time you saw her, as if time worked differently for her, and only for her. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart seemed to beat so fast it was about to explode.

How could it be possible that your entire system changed just by her presence? How was it possible that, with a glance, she could change your heartbeat and make your head spin like a carousel? Maybe she didn't even know she was doing it, but you couldn't comprehend why, even after so many years, your body reacted so instinctively around her.

It was almost humiliating to realize that your efforts seemed to have been in vain. You had gone to another country, met new people, explored new horizons, even had a girlfriend for a brief period. During this year, you had thought so little about Tara that you almost thought you could leave her in the past, that you had overcome your feelings, so pure but so conflicting. All of this, all this effort to come back and realize that you seemed to still be stuck in the same place, like the same foolish girl who would do anything for Tara Carpenter against your better judgment.

You could still hear her screams on that last night you had together when you thought you were going to die, and your biggest concern was that Tara had to leave that room alive. You still remembered the conversation you had before, Tara begging for your forgiveness and saying she loved you multiple times.

Those were memories that left a hole in your chest. You knew Tara had her problems, but you always lost so much when she distanced herself.

She raised her hand in an awkward greeting, and you think you gave a half-smile in response. It was too much. You were still feeling too much, and it drove you crazy. Still, you pretended everything was okay for a few moments, just not to create an uncomfortable atmosphere at the party. You talked to the others, sharing a bit of your experience in England, but your mind always unconsciously turned to Tara, analyzing her reactions and trying to read her thoughts.

Tara was quiet, maybe even quieter than you had ever seen her. You couldn't read her expressions very well, straining to see her only from the corner of your eye, but you could feel her attentive gaze on you, as if nothing in the world was as interesting as you.

Finally, you stopped talking for a while and found an excuse to leave and try to restore some of your sanity. The door to the balcony was open, and even though the view was nothing but New York's industrial buildings, the cold wind on your face helped alleviate some of the nervousness you were feeling.

A gentle touch reached your shoulder, and it was familiar enough for you to recognize the owner. Kate's image appeared by your side as she leaned on the railing, looking directly at your face in deep thought. "So?"

"I thought I had gotten over this. This is ridiculous." You responded with your head down, feeling ashamed to continue in this cycle of liking Tara Carpenter.

Kate shook her head and held your shoulder again, silently asking for your attention. "You can't control these things, you know." A second of silence passed, the faint sounds of the city serving as a soundtrack to your emotional confusion. "If it helps, she spent the whole time looking at you. She seemed... I don't know, regretful, maybe? I don't know her as well as you do."

"I don't even know if I still know her." It was a true confession. Even after everything, even the attacks and the message Tara sent you when you were leaving the country, you still weren't sure if she had the capacity to return to what she was before everything went wrong. You were afraid, and honestly, who could blame you?

While you were away, sometimes you checked your friends' Instagram, just to see what they were up to. Multiple times, the posts contained photos with Tara, and she seemed happy, maybe even lighter. You even wondered if the two of you were just destined to be apart, like a more brutal version of Romeo and Juliet.

"You're not obligated to anything, but don't you need some sort of closure?" Kate advised. "Just to move on, if that's what you really want."

"What do you mean by that?" You retorted defensively.

The blue-eyed girl smiled and shook her head slightly, as if dealing with an irritated child. "I saw how you looked at her when you arrived. I'm not saying you should do anything, especially because I have my doubts if she could really be good for you, but it's clear that you feel something for her that's bigger than you can control."

"Yeah, and that's pathetic."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I understand that your situation is complicated." Kate placed her other hand on your shoulder, now holding you face-to-face with her. "But you know you'll have to face this someday, right? Whatever the conclusion may be."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, but eventually a smile broke through, lighting up your expression. "When did you become so wise, Bishop? Last time I saw you, you were trying to put aluminum in the microwave."

"Shut up." She grumbled while also having a smile on her face and pulled you into a hug that you didn't even know you needed. That was Kate, a warm person who always gave her best to the people she loved. You couldn't be more grateful to still have her in your life, even though your relationship didn't work out.

The affectionate moment almost made you forget your conflict. Almost.

Until the reason for all your doubts appeared standing in front of the door, staring directly at you.

Tara regretted going after you.

She should have expected, especially since you came to the party with Kate, especially because you spent this whole year living with her. But that didn't mean it hurt any less to see you embraced with her, looking so comfortable that you wouldn't need anything else in this world.

Especially if it was someone known for hurting you and breaking your heart repeatedly.

She stood there, rooted to the ground like an idiot, until you two separated and noticed her presence. When your eyes met, she looked like a deer in the headlights and immediately started stepping back, embarrassed to have been caught like that.

Tara was already planning how to hide from you for the rest of the party when Kate stopped her. "Hey! No need to leave."

The Latina girl halted her route and looked suspiciously at both of you. You didn't seem to understand the situation, just like her, but Kate seemed sure of what she was doing because she continued. "You two need to talk once and for all. No imminent death or text messages, just eye to eye."

"Kate." You called her, grabbing her arm as a form of protest. Tara couldn't help but wince when she noticed how just how much you were against the idea of being alone with her. Not that she could blame you for it.

"Thank me later." That was all the other girl responded, and with a short nod towards Tara, she returned to the living room, leaving two tormented souls by themselves on the balcony.

Tara took a few small steps forward, analyzing what your reaction would be to the proximity. You seemed to be doing your best to ignore her, looking into the distance as if there were something interesting in graffiti-covered billboards and dimly lit lamp posts. She leaned on the railing, trying at least to have a view of your face. "Sorry if I interrupted your intimate moment; I didn't mean to."

You released air through your nose, but Tara couldn't tell if it was a laugh. "You talk as if Kate and I were dating."

"And aren't you?" The younger Carpenter replied, trying to contain some of the excitement she wanted to show. That had been one of the best news she had received in a long time.

"No, not for a while. I thought you saw it on my Instagram; I unblocked you." You finally looked at her, and Tara could see that you were analyzing her, as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

"Yeah, I stopped checking a while ago. Thought maybe it would bother you."

"And it wouldn't bother me for you to say you love me and not visit me in the hospital once after almost dying in front of you? It wouldn't bother me that the only news I had from you after that was that message before I boarded the plane, since you didn't even bother to show up at the airport?"

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and she accepted each of your frustrations as a penance. God, she would probably accept a punch from you if that would make you feel better. "I had promised myself that I would only get close to you again when I was better, okay? When I sought help and there was no risk of being an idiot with you again. I didn't lie when I said I love you, and it's because I love you that I knew it was better to stay away until I could be a version of myself that would be better for you."

A minute of pure silence passed, and Tara almost thought the conversation would end there until you spoke again. "And did you? Get better, I mean."

She sighed and crossed her arms as if that made her less vulnerable. "I think so. I don't feel as much uncontrolled anger as before; I also don't feel the need to take out my frustrations in drinks or parties. It's been a while since I argued with Sam, and I think that's good for both of us. And my therapist is nice, even though he's old enough to not know what Twitter is." Tara laughed, even though she was full of anxiety bubbling inside her. "But he advised me to write, and that has helped me a lot."

You looked at her with curiosity. "Write? About what?"

"About everything." Tara shrugged, almost as if she were relaxed. "My day-to-day life, college, my friends... you. Writing makes what I feel not stay trapped inside me, so I have no reason to explode. Everyone wins with this, and I must say that my essay grades even increased after that."

A short laugh escaped your lips, and the sound made Tara minimally satisfied with herself. "You write about me?"

"Yeah, actually, most of my journals have something about you. Memories of our childhood or what I feel for you." Tara admitted, feeling her own face blush with embarassment. You didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care, because you continued to look at her very carefully. "But most of it is about things I regret. Things I said, things I did... I'm really sorry."

"I want to believe that. I mean, I believe you, I know you're not lying, but..." You placed your hands on your head and closed your eyes, your elbows resting on the railing. It seemed like you were trying to block your own thoughts. "It's all so complex, and I feel so much... pain."

"I understand. I don't expect you to forgive me, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life apologizing if necessary." Cautiously, Tara took a few steps towards you. "But if you want me to stay away, just say the words, and I'll go."

You sighed with evident exhaustion. "Of course not, Tara."

She took a few more steps, and now her arm almost touched yours. "I know I have no right to ask this, but... do you still love me? Or do you think you could love me again someday?"

"Of course, I still love you, Tara! Don't you see that's the problem?" You moved away from the railing, raising your voice as the conversation stressed you. "I shouldn't still love you! I shouldn't still want you around! What does that say about me?"

Tara waited a few seconds until you calmed down, keeping the distance between you to avoid making you more irritated. When your breathing started to slow, she continued in a weak voice. "I hurt the person I loved most in this world. What does that say about me?"

You didn't say anything in response. She spoke again. "Why don't we make a deal?"

"A deal? About what?" You replied with sarcasm dripping from your voice.

"Let me prove that I've changed, that I've improved, that I deserve a place in your life again. We can start slowly; I won't force anything and will respect any boundaries you want." The girl pleaded, almost clasping her hands and kneeling at your feet. "And if I do anything, anything at all, that makes you uncomfortable and hurts you, I'll leave you alone forever."

"What's the point of that?"

"To stop this doubt that I know we both have. Stop us from wondering about the 'what ifs' and really put to the test if I've changed. That's what you want, isn't it? To know if there's any chance the old Tara can come back? Well, that's all I want too."

You stared at her, clear doubt and apprehension in your eyes as you thought about the presented arguments. Tara's foot tapped rapidly on the floor, demonstrating her nervousness.

A few seconds passed until you spoke again. "What does this mean for us?"

Tara's expression softened as she understood your caution. It was understandable, your fear. "I don't know, but we can find out together. Do we have a deal?"

A few more seconds, and then, a nod.

"Deal."

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x you #scream imagine #scream movies #scream franchise #✮: 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

599 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 15 days

Text

Massage Therapy (Part One of Two)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

It had been three years since you owned a day spa and, being one of the best in Dublin, you were almost always booked out.

You provided facials, therapeutic massages as well as relaxation techniques, including massages with hot oil ‒‒the last service being the most popular among professionals seeking to unwind. T

he elegant interior of your establishment, with its dim, warm lights, hushed tones, and earthy aromas, lulled the senses the moment clients stepped into the door.

By word of mouth, you had acquired a loyal clientele, including many businessmen and important figures and, apparently, among them now was the famous actor, Cillian Murphy who had been referred to you by one of his friends.

He was a slim and handsome man, in his late forties, and you were quite excited to be massaging him when he walked in.

You first handed him a form to fill out with details such as his name, age, contact information, and medical history, as usual. While he completed the paperwork, you studied him from the corner of your eye. He moved with quiet grace, his hair glinting under the soft lights, his lips curling up in a ghost of a smile when he saw your spa.

When he finished filling out the form, he handed it over to you and followed you down a hallway lined with a series of private rooms.

"Mr Murphy, this way please," you said, as you opened the door to the dimly lit massage room, in the middle of which stood a massage table, covered in fresh sheets.

"Thank you," Cillian said, his voice low and measured, as he stepped inside, eyes trailing over the candles casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"You are welcome," you responded, as you walked over to the corner of the room to retrieve a bottle of warm oil for the session. "Now, when you are ready Mr Murphy, please get undressed. You can place your belongings into the locker over here while I leave the room to give you some privacy. Once you have undressed, please lay face down on the table, covering yourself with the sheet provided, alright?" I continued, nodding towards the locker, gesturing to ensure his comfort and to establish professionalism for the session.

"Sure," he replied, eyes meeting mine briefly, as you turned to exit the room.

As you waited outside the door, you took a few moments to compose yourself, to leave any personal thoughts behind and focus solely on the calming atmosphere of the room and your craft - it was crucial to provide Cillian with the best service possible, regardless of who he was. Although, truth be told, you were a little overexcited to be massaging such a famous and handsome individual, but you quickly brushed those thoughts away.

Entering the room once more, you found Cillian lying face down on the massage table as instructed, dressed in just his briefs, with the thin sheet that was provided carefully draped over his lower body.

"Are there any areas you would like me to focus on, Mr Murphy?" you asked softly, while pouring the warm oil onto your cupped hands, rubbing them together briskly to infuse the oil with your warmth.

"No, just anything is fine," he replied gruffly, as you began your work on him, starting up at his neck, and working your way down to his upper back. His tension had been obvious, but you could already feel it beginning to melt away from his body as you placed your hands on him. You worked the warm oil into his tired muscles, easing the knots and tension from his shoulders and neck.

As you were massaging his back, you couldn't help but notice the freckles on his pale skin. There were thousands of them , tiny brown speckles scattered haphazardly across his shoulder blades and back. They were one of the many things about Cillian Murphy that made him an interesting subject to look at, but it was your duty to keep your mind on the job at hand, which was to make sure that he relaxed and felt zero tension. You were a professional, after all.

As you moved down from his shoulders and neck to his lower back, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

Your hand came to rest on his hips, and you could feel him tense slightly beneath your touch. You continued to apply pressure, massaging with long, deep strokes, focusing on the area where his tension remained.

Eventually, you adjusted the sheet slightly, revealing just enough of his thighs and hips to continue your work, while still maintaining his modesty. The tension in his body had lessened, but it was still present, especially in his hamstrings.

You started massaging his right leg first , focusing on the muscles that you knew would be the tightest, and working slowly to coax them to relax. As you worked your way down, you reminded yourself not to let your mind wander, and to focus on what you were doing. But it wasn't easy, for every touch, every stroke, sent a little thrill running through you. He was a handsome man, with a lean, toned body and a distinctive brooding charm that seemed almost palpable.

His legs were covered in some fine hairs. They were muscular, even despite his otherwise slim built and you and you couldn't help but notice the veins that ran along the sides of his legs, pulsing with life as you rubbed them with your expert touch.

"Is the pressure okay?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the muscle contours of his lower legs with a gentle pressure, coaxing the tension out of them.

"It's perfect," he murmur-replied, his voice gravelly with a hint of recognition in his tone. You shuttered at the sound of it, feeling a strange mix of pride and nervousness, knowing that he was enjoying it.

You continued your work on his legs, adjusting the sheet again before moving higher, to his upper thighs, just below his buttocks.

Cillian's body tensed again, but the tension was not present in his muscles. This was different, there was something new, something that you hadn't felt before.

"How's the pressure now?" you asked again, moving to his inner thigh now.

He paused for a moment, considering your words.

"It's good," he finally said, his voice strained with a new type of tension that hadn't been there before as, unbeknownst to you, he slowly became aroused.

Oblivious to this, you kept on with your massage, your hands working their magic. As you glanced at your client's lower body, you saw the way his muscles were starting to flex slightly, but you did not think anything about it and moved towards the other leg, relishing in the smoothness of his skin under your touch.

You started with his lower thigh again and then moved to his upper thigh, slowly working your way inwards again.

You could feel the built-up tension in his muscles there, and you devoted your full attention to alleviating it. As you massaged the spot that was especially tight, Cillian let out a soft moan that registered on your radar, but you brought your focus back to the task at hand.

After some time, you felt that you had done sufficient work on the back and legs from this angle and you knew it was time for him to turn around. "Alright Mr. Murphy, I am going to need you roll over onto your back so that I may continue to work on your chest and arms," you instructed him softly, while still maintaining your professional demeanor, even if your heart fluttered at a faster rate.

"Uhm, I," he began , hesitating before continuing. "I can't. I need to...," he stammered, causing you to offer him some assistance.

"Would you like me to help you to turn around?" you offered in a soft tone.

"No, I mean, I can do that myself, but I shouldn't because I'm a bit uncomfortable right now," Cillian admitted, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

A feeling of realization dawned on you, and your cheeks flushed in return. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of your profession and that this kind of situation could arise every now and then. With that, you reassured him.

"Don't worry, that's perfectly normal and I will ensure that sheet provided will cover your modesty," you reassured Cillian with a soft and gentle voice, making sure not to make this moment any awkward or uncomfortable than it already was.

Cillian took a deep breath, and then slowly began to turn onto his back, revealing his lean but toned body. You took a moment to admire the sight while reminding yourself to stay focused on the task at hand.

"I am sorry. This hasn't happened to me before," Cillian murmured. You could see the embarrassment color his cheeks, but there was also an honesty in his voice and eyes that resonated with you.

"It happens, Mr Murphy," you replied with a gentle smile, trying to put him at ease. "It's actually not that uncommon," you reassured him as you covered his eyes with cloth, waiting for him to catch his breath, to compose himself. "Now just relax," you then continued before looking at the obvious.

His erection was evident beneath the sheet, but you said nothing, choosing instead to continue working as you normally would.

Without saying anything else, you focused on his arms, kneading the muscles to ease the knots and tension before moving on to his chest.

Running your hands through his chest hair, you could feel each rib, each muscle expanding and contracting under your touch as he breathed in and out and, even though you spent almost twenty more minutes on his upper body only, his erection did not abate.

Knowing that you had caused this made you feel slightly guilty, but also somewhat empowered and, with that, curiosity got the better of you and you decided to return to his legs again.

This time, you focused your attention on the front of his thighs, and you could feel the tension there as well. You did your best to ignore the growing bulge beneath the sheet, and concentrated instead on providing a soothing and relaxing massage experience for Cillian.

You worked your way up his legs with long, sweeping strokes, and felt the muscle gradually start to relax under your trained hands. You could sense that Cillian was feeling more at ease as well, and he let out a deep sigh as he seemed to drift away into a state of pure relaxation until your hand drifted to his upper inner thigh again.

His erection twitched upon contact, but, determined to remain professional and to finish the massage, you continued with your relaxed, rhythmic massaging motion, allowing the gentle movement to work on his tightened muscles.

Your fingers continued to glide lovingly, assertively, and with focus on the inner thighs, assessing their tension while taking the occasional, surreptitious glance at the sheet covering his lower torso. Underneath it, Cillian's erection still throbbed steadily and, after having now seen this man mostly naked and aroused, you wondered what it would be like to touch him intimately.

You had never before entertained such a fascination with a client, and tried to push the thought aside, but as your fingers moved up his thighs once more, tracing the firm muscles and lingering on the most sensitive areas, you knew you couldn't deny it any longer.

He was straining, almost painfully against the fabric beneath the sheet and you found it difficult to keep your focus on massaging his inner thighs. You glanced up at him, noticing his lips tightly closed as he focused on keeping himself together.

This moment hung heavy in the air, the tension building between you, almost palpable. It was obvious that he was holding back, and you wondered if you should continue the massage or stop.

But as you looked back at him, you saw his teeth clenching slightly, and he didn't seem to be making any moves to change position.

A sudden realization came over you - this was your chance to act on the desire that had been building inside of you since the moment he walked in, so you asked him softly, "Mr. Murphy, would you like me to take care of that for you?" and glanced down to his lower body, pointing at the evidence of his arousal pushing against the sheet.

"I can relieve that tension for you too, if you would like," you suggested, your voice barely above a whisper, though every word was clear and steady. He opened his mouth, about to protest.

"Uhm, I am married, I shouldn't be..." he murmured awkwardly, but then hesitated. You knew this could be your only chance with him, so you pounced.

"That's alright, I do not usually offer this kind of service," you told him. "But, it's just a massage and I can use my hands to alleviate your tension down there, without anyone else having to know about it."

"Uhm, okay," Cillian finally agreed, his voice barely above a whisper, as a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

"Perfect, so I will remove the sheet now and continue with your massage," you stated calmly, doing just that as you were met with the unobstructed view of his throbbing erection.

As expected, Cillian reflexively pulled at the sheet to cover himself, but you gently held it in place while explaining, "Mr. Murphy, please trust me when I say that this will help relieve even more tension in your body."

With a slight nod, he released the sheet and closed his eyes, leaving you free to continue.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on the insides of his thighs and slowly spread them apart. The oil from the massage made them slick and easy to move, and you took full advantage as you began to knead and massage the muscles there.

As you worked, your fingers grazed the base of his shaft, causing him to inhale sharply. You glanced up at him, but continued your ministrations, moving your hands higher up his thighs and closer to his erection while taking in the sight.

His manhood was visible now, pulsating and rock hard, with a thick vein running down its length. Your mouth watered as you felt the steely heat radiating from his body, desires swirling and building within you.

"Ah, fuck!" Cillian groaned as you caressed the sensitive underside of his length.

"Shh, it's alright. Just relax," you whispered softly, running one of your oiled up hands over his pubic area, gently working your way around his shaft. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you managed to keep your cool. You couldn't believe that you were doing this. You were masturbating Cillian Murphy, a famous actor, during a massage session. It was something that you had never done before, and it was thrilling in a way that you couldn't quite put into words.

With a flick of your wrist and a bit more pressure, you began stroking his shaft with slow, steady movements, making sure that each stroke was deliberate yet soft, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his form.

"Is the pressure okay for you?" you asked softly, continuing your hand movements up and down his shaft, giving him a surge of pleasure with each stroke.

"Uhhmm, yes..." Cillian muttered breathlessly, unable to form complete sentences from the sensations coursing through his body.

You smiled at his response, feeling encouraged as you continued your hand movements, using the oil to smooth the way, making certain to caress each sensitive inch of him.

You could feel the tension rising in your own body as well, desire pooling between your thighs as you admired Cillian's form beneath your touch. It had been a long time since you had felt such attraction towards someone, and the excitement was overwhelming.

The moan that escaped from Cillian's mouth at your every touch was guttural, and you knew then that he was enjoying the sensation. With one more deep breath, you let your hands glide fully over his straining cock, beginning to massage it slowly with a deliberate pace that caused an air of urgency to grow more prevalent within the room.

You glanced at Cillian and saw him biting his lip, as though trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape him.

"Just relax," you whispered softly, allowing your hand to slide down his penis to cup his balls gently while the other hand worked its way up from the base, tracing each vein that ran along its shaft.

"Fuck," he groaned, as you continued your steady rhythm, applying the right amount of pressure to cause waves of pleasure to course through his body.

You felt him grow even more rigid in your hands and, with a quick glance, you saw that his eyes were still tightly shut. You knew he was on the brink and, instead of holding back, you decided to bring him over the edge.

"You're so close," you murmured, your breath hot against his ear as moisture pooled between your thighs. "Let it all out."

You increased the pace of your hands and, with your thumb, massaged the sensitive spot right below the head of his cock. His back arched off the table and a strangled noise left his lips.

You moved your hand faster, dripping oil everywhere, as he gripped the table for dear life. His thighs clenched tightly, and you could physically feel every muscle in his body tensing as his orgasm raced through him. A low, guttural cry echoed through the room, and his seed erupted from his cock, covering your hand and the sheet below.

Watching his cum spurt from his cock was oddly mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but stare as each spasm took hold of him.

Cillian came hard and fast, his muscles tense and body aching uncontrollably. The sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him was mind-numbing, intensified by your attentive ministrations.

His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hands slowed down to a gentler stroke.

You marveled at what had just transpired. This famous actor had climaxed all over your hands, and you couldn't help but feel a bit thrilled by the experience.

"Jesus Christ." Cillian mumbled under his breath, clearly in shock of what he had just experienced.

He opened his eyes, his vision a bit hazy as he took in your form - you, his massage therapist, whose hands had just brought him to an unparalleled climax.

Cillian laid there, half-stunned and entirely spent, taking a moment to regain his bearings as you slowly pulled your hands away from his softening shaft.

You could feel the blood pulsing in your own ears as you took in the sight of him - the glistening mess that remained on his chest, the redness from exertion staining his cheeks, and the way his eyes seemed to have lost all thoughtful intensity.

It was a vulnerable, intimate look that he gave you before speaking up softly. "I am sorry for the mess," he stammered , unable to meet your gaze directly, his cheeks reddening once more.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, "There's no need to apologize, Mr. Murphy, it is completely natural and to be expected after what we just did," your voice still gentle and soothing. "If you could just lay there for a few more minutes, please, so that I can clean you up and give you a moment to compose yourself before we conclude the session," you offered, with sincerity dripping from your voice.

You took a damp washcloth and gently began to clean Cillian's stomach and chest, taking extra care around his still sensitive area. He groaned softly as your warm hand touched him, but didn't stop you. Once he was clean, you threw the cloth into a hamper.

"Now I will leave you to get dressed and you can meet me at the front desk," you said softly, looking at the gorgeous, satiated man lying before you.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude as well as a hint of regret. "That was..." he faltered, searching for the right word. "Really nice ."

You smiled at his honesty. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Murphy." You were satisfied to see him more relaxed and satisfied than he was when he arrived.

You exited the massage room, giving him privacy to get dressed. Your heartbeat was still racing as you replayed the events in your mind. It was an unusual occurrence, but something about Cillian Murphy drew you in, and you couldn't help but feel a connection with him.

At the reception desk, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

Your hands were still shaking from the adrenaline rush of what had just occurred. The thought of being so close to a famous actor, and satisfying him in this way, was a thrill unlike anything you had ever experienced before. You gathered your thoughts and prepared to greet Cillian as he walked out of the massage room, but the encounter was not what you expected.

As Cillian entered the reception area, his expression was unreadable. You greeted him with a small smile, but his gaze remained distant, as if he was replaying the events in his mind.

"Did you find the massage enjoyable, Mr. Murphy?" you asked, keeping your tone professional and even.

"It was...yes...it was quite unique," he finally said, meeting your gaze with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"I'm glad to have been of service, Mr. Murphy," you replied, aware that the tension between you was palpable.

Cillian remained silent for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

"I should pay for the massage now," he finally said, reaching for his wallet. "But I have to ask, what are the additional charges for the extra services you provided?" he inquired, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty as he blushed heavily.

"No additional charges. Like I said, I do not usually provide this kind of service as this is a reputable business," you answered, with a carefully nonchalant smile, avoiding any appearance of awkwardness. "Your payment for the massage covers the entire session, regardless of how things progressed, although I was wondering whether I would see you again for another session," you added, measuring the mood, hopeful that there might be a possibility of future encounters.

Cillian looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign of genuine interest, before finally replying, "I, uhm, yeah. I guess I would like that."

"Great, because there is another type of massage that I would love to try on you. It will make you feel even more relaxed," you said, trying to gauge his interest.

"What kind of massage?" he asked with a curious expression.

The anticipation was playing its role, and you took a deep breath, "Well, it's called a prostate massage," you admitted softly, continuing to maintain eye contact as you gauged his reaction.

"Okay. That's new, but how about next week? Same time?" Cillian said, as he raised his eyebrows at your proposition. He had heard of this kind of massage before but had never tried it.

You completed his checkout and handed him his receipt. Your hands brushed as the paper was transferred and, suddenly, that bit of contact felt incredibly intimate and intense.

"Excellent, I'll see you next week," you said, the excitement clear in your voice.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

143 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 8 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [4] - Spark

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you’ll like it, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: A quiet night on the rooftop holds new promises.

Word Count: 3500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I’m not saying my best friend in the entire world betrayed me, but I’m kind of tempted to change her name into Brutus in my contacts.”

“Just because she cancelled on this dinner you mentioned?”

“It’s a tradition at this point,” you said, leaning back on the couch. “Us and the Barnes family get together every two months, we’ve started it way before my mom passed away. I get that it’s the bachelorette party of her friend’s sister, but still!”

Dr. Cooper smiled calmly.

“Are you nervous because Bucky is going to be there?”

Your head shot up and you forced a nonchalant laugh.

“Bucky doesn’t make me nervous,” you said, the words coming out of your mouth in a rush and she raised her brows.

“Doesn’t he?”

“He annoys me,” you pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

“I can see that,” she said. “And why does he annoy you?”

Your eyes snapped up at hers and you shifted your weight on the couch.

“We have history.”

She hummed. “What kind of history?”

You nibbled on your lip, your stomach doing a flip at the memory but you pushed it to the back of your mind, rolling your shoulders back.

“Let’s change the subject.”

She thought for a moment, then put aside her notebook to with a sigh.

“Y/N,” she said. “We’ve been having these therapy sessions for three months now, am I correct?”

“Yes,” you said. “Sarah Wilson recommended you, she’s a good friend of mine.”

“And you were seeing Dr. Phillips before?”

“No offense to Dr. Phillips but I don’t think we were a good match.”

She nodded.

“That can happen,” she said. “But I just need to make sure you understand that if these therapy sessions are going to work, you will have to step out of your comfort zone sometimes.”

“Oh, therapy isn’t in my comfort zone,” you said with a wave of your hand. “You’d think it would be, after years and years of experience but…”

“I’m aware this is not what you want to hear but for us to make progress, you will have to be open with me,” she said. “Instead of changing the subject all the time.”

You smiled. “I don’t think me being completely open with you is in your best interest.”

“Why not?”

“Just a hunch,” you stated, your voice completely flat and she hummed.

“How about this?” she said. “Perhaps you could just try sharing something small with me. I’m not saying you have to share every single thing if you’re not comfortable with it, but…maybe something that happened recently and how you reacted to it?”

For some reason, “Someone tried to shoot me a week ago” didn’t feel like it was a great conversation starter so you leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to come up with something.

“I’ve recently found myself in sort of an… unideal situation,” you ended up saying and she nodded her head.

“That’s a wonderful start,” she said. “Can you elaborate?”

“Someone acted very rude towards me the other night when I was having dinner with a friend from college,” you said. “And I was annoyed at how inconsiderate it was to pull that shit when I was in the middle of something. Like what, you couldn’t wait an hour or so to do this on my way back home?”

“How did you react when it happened?”

“I didn’t get to react much because Bucky placed himself in that situation as well.”

“He was there?”

“Passing by,” you spat, “Anyway, he got involved and the situation was resolved pretty fast.”

“In disagreements like these,” she said. “It’s incredibly important that we make our stance and boundaries clear.”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t disagree.”

“So this inconsiderate person you speak of, would you say they know how you feel about the issue?”

You repressed a smile, then leaned back, crossing your legs.

“I think so,” you said. “I expressed very clearly how I felt about the issue and now, well…I’m very certain that they won’t do it again.”

Normally you didn’t mind these dinners mainly because you and Becca would have a lot of fun once the dinner was over. George and Winnifred had always been nice to you and Winnifred had more than once said you were family, seeing that you and Becca were inseparable even when you were little.

And you were hoping Bucky would be busy the whole night so you wouldn’t have to spend the night delivering snarks back and forth.

Ian sipped his wine while you texted Becca under the table, complaining about how she should have been there for the hundredth time since the morning before you lifted your glances from the phone.

“Becca gives her regards, everyone.”

“Oh thank you sweetheart,” your father said. “Will she not be joining us then?”

“There’s apparently her friend’s bachelorette party?” Winnifred asked, turning to you as if she wanted to be sure and you nodded.

“Her friend’s sister’s bachelorette,” you said helpfully and George smiled slightly.

“And when will we see your bachelorette, sweetheart?”

“George!”

“Not soon I hope,” your father said with a chuckle and you waved a hand in the air.

“Definitely not soon,” you said and Ian played with his fork.

“I don’t know,” he said with a scoff. “You keep dating civilians, one of them will ask you to marry them sooner or later.”

Your head snapped up and a silence fell upon the table. George and Winnifred exchanged glances and your father raised his brows.

“Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ian doesn’t know what he’s talking about as always.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Our Y/N is a very beautiful girl,” Winnifred said as if trying to de-escalate the situation. “Civilian or not, I’m not surprised many people are interested.”

You offered her a thankful smile and turned to your father.

“I’m not dating civilians,” you assured him. “Or anyone right now.”

“But you know the rules,” your father said. “Any civilian you decide to date has to go through the background check.”

“With good reason,” George pointed out before taking his fork to his mouth and you hummed.

“Yeah yeah, I remember the whole speech.”

“Bucky and Becca got that speech as well.”

“They apparently needed it,” Winnifred said. “I mean do you remember Bucky’s ex girlfriend? Dot?”

That familiar bitterness of jealousy churned your stomach and you pursed your lips, then reached out for your wine glass.

“Were you here around that time sweetheart?” George asked you. “Or were you still away for college?”

The music was booming through the club as you walked back to the bar from the bathroom with Becca, and you looked around for your date as Becca motioned at the bartender, then turned her head when Steve touched her shoulder.

“Hi there.”

“Hey!” Becca kissed him on the cheek and you smiled at him.

“Hi Steve,” you said, taking your cocktail from the bartender. “Um, did you see my date anywhere?”

Steve shot you an apologetic smile. “I told him not to do it.”

Becca sucked on the straw of the cocktail, raising her brows and you frowned.

“What?”

“Bucky.”

Your jaw clenched and you gritted your teeth, putting your drink down.

“Where is he?”

“I just want to remind you that Sam has just bought this club, so he’d be pretty angry if you shot my brother tonight.” Becca pointed out, leaning sideways to Steve’s arm and Steve nodded his head.

“Wouldn’t look good for the club.”

“Where is he, Steve?”

Steve pointed upstairs. “VIP.”

You whirled around on your heels and stomped your way up the cantilever stairs, anger rushing through you. You made your way past his and Sam’s bodyguards by the door, then slammed the door open to step inside. Bucky was talking to Sam as you walked in while a gorgeous girl resting her head on his shoulder and Sam hissed in a breath.

“Uh oh,” he said. “Told you not to do it.”

“Hi Sam.”

“Hi Y/N.”

The girl lifted her head from Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky sat up straighter, and had the nerve to smile at you.

“Hi Charm.”

“Where is my date, Bucky?”

“I think he said he had something to do,” Bucky said, stealing a look at Sam. “Something urgent, right Sam? That’s what we heard.”

“Oh you’re not dragging me into this.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” the girl asked and Bucky cleared his throat, then motioned between you and her.

“Y/N, this is Dot; my girlfriend.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that familiar bitterness climbing up your throat but you managed to keep your expression flat.

“Dot, this is Y/N. She’s uh…she’s Becca’s best friend.”

Sam tilted his head to shoot Bucky a look of disbelief.

“You’ve just intimidated Becca’s best friend’s date into leaving the club?” Dot asked, confusion laced in her tone and Sam cleared his throat.

“They grew up together,” he explained to her. “Bucky tends to get overprotective of Y/N, kind of an old habit there.”

Dot pressed a hand on her chest.

“Aw that’s sweet!” she said. “So she’s like a sister to you, Bucky?”

Sam raised his brows as if trying to keep a straight face, then he shook his head slightly while you glared at Bucky.

“Well—” Bucky started but you cut him off.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a warning. Don’t blame me if you keep dating people who are easily intimidated.”

“Who I date is none of your business.”

“You are Becca’s best friend so it makes it my business—also, you call that dancing?” he asked you. “He was feeling you up, he should be glad he walked out of here with his junk still attached to his body.”

You ran a hand over your face, then turned to Dot.

“Listen, I don’t even know you but you seem nice enough,” you said. “You probably deserve better than an asshole who thinks his dick is made of gold. You could do much better.”

With that, you walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

“No, they got together after I returned to the city,” you said. “Like a month after my graduation. I was here, she was pretty nice.”

“I didn’t like her,” Winnifred said and you let out a small laugh.

“And when was the last time you liked anyone he or Becca brought home?”

“When was the last time either of them brought someone I could like?” Winnifred asked back and you held up your hands with a grin, gesturing surrender.

“Daddy is the same,” you said. “But don’t worry, just in case things get serious with a partner, me and Becca came up with a great plan years ago.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll get everyone drunk,” you pointed out, coaxing chuckles out of them. “Should make things easier, at least for the first dinner.”

After dinner, you had excused yourself to go up to the swimming pool on the rooftop, so that you could enjoy the night. After their weekend house, this one was the one you liked the most among Barnes residences; it had such a lovely view of the night sky. You sipped your wine and leaned back on the lounge chair, heaving a sigh and keeping your eyes on the stars.

Becca was still partying with her friends so you were just going to enjoy some peace and quiet until it was time to go home. You loved spending time with George and Winnifred, that wasn’t the problem, but this evening you really weren’t in the mood for Ian’s bullshit. You knew very well that he knew about your date with Ethan, and though he hadn’t told your father yet, you were sure it wasn’t from the goodness in his heart.

Not that he or your father had anything to worry about. You had made sure that Ethan got a background check as your father wanted with all the civilians you dated, back at college and right before you decided to meet again two weeks back, you had done the same. It was safe, whether they approved him or not.

The sound of the door opening made you turn your head and as soon as your eyes fell upon Bucky stepping to the roof, you let out a groan.

“I thought you were busy.”

“I was,” he said, approaching you with a glass of whiskey in his hand before he sat down on the lounge chair beside yours and you stole a look at him.

“You missed dinner.”

“Mm hm. Sorry about that.”

“You never miss dinner.”

“Yeah well, wasn’t exactly my choice,” he said, making you turn a little so that you can look at him better.

“Why?”

“Overtime at the office,” he joked and you tilted your head.

“Trouble?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Does my father know?”

“He does,” he said as your phone vibrated on the small table beside you, making you check the screen.

From: Ethan

My coworkers dragged me to this café and I think you’d like it.

You smiled slightly and typed back your reply.

Well, the only way to be sure is if you invite me there the next time.

It didn’t even take him five seconds to reply back;

Lunch tomorrow?

You typed in a “Yes” and sent it, then turned the phone in your hand while Bucky lit a cigarette.

“Is that the civilian?”

“Ugh, not you too!” you whined with a grimace. “Everyone already gave me the third degree at dinner, you’d think I’m going to elope at any time.”

He shot you a light hearted glare. “They’re just worried about you sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that—and also, you’ve dated one hundred civilians, I don’t see anyone giving you speeches,” you grumbled. “It’s so hypocritical, not to mention medieval.”

Bucky chuckled, then sipped his drink.

“Well…”

“I don’t know why everyone keeps acting like the possibility of me ending up with a civilian would be a disaster.”

“Because it would be.”

“No, you know what the disaster would be?” you asked him. “Me ending up with someone from the business.”

“Oh come on—”

“Pop out a few babies, pretend I don’t know about his mistresses and go to pilates for the rest of my life,” you mused. “Dream life right there.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that and you know that,” Bucky said. “Only an idiot would cheat on you, and in case it has escaped your notice, idiots don’t live long in this line of work.”

You suppressed a smile threatening to warm your face, and instead rolled your eyes at him.

“Not worth the effort,” you said as you downed your wine, then held out your glass in his direction. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but he still grabbed the wine bottle on the floor to fill your glass.

“Thank you.”

“As the princess wishes,” he said and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back again to look up at the sky.

“What’s going on with the business?” you asked. “Are you and Stark still on bad terms?”

“We’re playing nice,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Common interests for once.”

“I’ll pop the champagne,” you deadpanned. “He looks pretty busy; he and my father have a meeting next week as well.”

“Will Ian be there?”

You heaved a sigh. “I’d assume so.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, then turned to you.

“Your father is not serious, is he?” he asked you. “He’s not actually going to name Ian as his successor?”

That familiar bitter taste burned your mouth but you pursed your lips together, then slipped a little on the lounge chair.

“Why are you asking me?” you asked. “Go ask him that.”

“I’m not going to do business with Ian, Charm.” Bucky told you. “If your father retires and names him the successor, that’s it.”

Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him.

“You cannot be serious,” you said. “Just because you don’t like him—”

“It’s not just that,” Bucky said. “Stark and I hate each other’s guts, but I still know he’s not going to break the truce or stab me in the back. Ian, on the other hand…”

“Ian is insufferable,” you said. “Trust me I’d know, I live with the guy. But breaking the truce is a death sentence, and he’s not an idiot.”

“I don’t trust him,” Bucky said. “Neither does Steve, or Sam.”

You massaged your temples with your fingertips. “Don’t put me in a position where I have to speak well of Ian.”

“You couldn't speak well of him if you tried,” he insisted before he took a sip of his whiskey. “Listen, I get why your father made the decision he made after your mother, but that was then. You can’t tell me you’re okay with this.”

You bit inside your cheek, swirling the wine in your glass.

“He promised it to me, Bucky,” you said through your teeth, your gaze fixed on your wine. “All those years ago. I was playing with dolls in the car and and my father pointed outside and told me that part of the city would belong to me when I grew up. So no, of course I’m not okay with the possibility of Ian being the successor.”

“Then take over.”

A small laugh climbed up your throat and you nodded at his whiskey glass. “How many of those have you had?”

“You know me better than that, I’m completely sober,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you take over?”

“Don’t you remember what went down in Massachusetts years ago?” you asked. “That family fight for the crown? They almost brought the whole city down with them, alliances got fucked, so many people died...”

“That was very different, there was no truce there.”

You clicked your tongue. “Still. It would devastate my father if I started a war in the family.”

“Ian is going to burn your father’s empire down,” Bucky told you, his piercing blue eyes locked in yours, making your heart skip a beat. “You think it won’t devastate him to watch that? If you want to be the next leader—”

“Of course I want it,” you cut him off, your whole body tense. “What I want changes nothing here.”

“Charm…”

“My father made sure I stayed out of the business since my mom,” you said. “Which was good strategy on his part, I admit. Ian on the other hand has many friends in the business and they’re completely loyal to him. He would not just hand that position to me, not when he thinks my father will name him as the successor instead of me.”

“He has his men, so what?” he asked you. “Compared to the support you would have if you wanted the crown? You have more allies than Ian.”

You blinked a couple of times, a small glimmer of hope warming your chest before you cleared your throat.

“There’s the code,” you muttered. “It’s family business. No one outside the family can get involved in the decision of who the next leader should be.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and for the thousandth time you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, but then you frowned down at your wine glass and put it on the small table, rolling your shoulders back.

Yeah. Enough wine for the night.

“But a powerful ally in the family would make everything much easier, wouldn’t it?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh.

“My hypothetical rise to power?” you asked. “Obviously. But either way, it’d be an uphill battle. What with the city and family and everything…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said without pulling his gaze off you and you felt your cheeks burn under his intense stare, but managed to keep your expression completely nonchalant.

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“And how’s that?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and downed his whiskey in one go before straightening his back. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous but of course that was nonsense; Bucky was too arrogant to be nervous.

“Come on,” you taunted him. “Humor me, golden heir.”

“Well,” he said after a pause, turning his empty glass in his hand. “You have a point. You would have to get most of Ian’s supporters within the family, you would have to persuade your father, and considering Ian will not want to hand you the crown, that whole process would not go very peacefully. Me, Steve and Sam already support you, but the rest of the families could take some time and effort to convince. I guess some bloodshed in the city would be inevitable as well, it’d be a huge change, considering your father’s influence and power…”

You hummed. “Or?”

A smile curled his lips upwards and he took a deep breath.

“Or,” he said. “You could marry me.”

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mob au #mob! bucky #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob!au

523 notes · View notes

paradiseprincesss · 3 months

Text

forever boy | jonathan crane

umm i lowkey did not want to post this because i feel like it's not eating but i hope u guys like thissssss :')

summary: you and jonathan are close friends — he was your brothers best friend so it was bound to happen, after all. however, all you want is to be more than just friends. one night, after a particularly bad date, you drunkenly call jonathan asking him to come pick you up — and you accidentally confess your feelings while you're at it too.

warnings: unspecified age gap (reader is early 20's, jonathan is early 30's), sort of friends to lovers, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), general sexual content ahead lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

"i don't think i've ever seen you stay with a guy for more than six months." jonathan pointed out teasingly as the two of you sat on his couch alone in his apartment, watching some random horror movie you chose to put on.

"very funny, jonathan." you say sarcastically, reaching over to grab the remote so you could pause the movie. "that doesn't make me feel any better, just so you know."

"you said you broke up with him because you don't care about him." jonathan shrugged. "psychologically speaking, have you ever considered that you may have an avoidant—"

"oh please," you scoffed, "do not turn this into one of your therapy sessions. psychoanalyze me all you want, but i guarantee you'll be dissappointed."

"i feel like you have a phobia of commitment." he says, sighing as he looked at you through his glasses.

"no, it's not that. it's just — nobody ever kept my attention." you explain, causing jonathan to raise a brow. "they just don't know how to make me...happy."

"i see," he said softly, "have you ever considered that, i don't know, maybe your going for the wrong type of guys?"

"what do you know about love? you're married to your job." you scoff, causing jonathan to chuckle softly.

"fair point," he nods, "but i do happen to study human psychology and behavioural patterns for a living."

recently, you had been spending a lot of time with your brothers best friend — doctor jonathan crane. he'd known jonathan for a good few years, the two of them got along well as they'd met at a conference for medical students when both of them were still in gotham's medical schooling program.

your brother was ten years older than you, meaning that you were currently still in university but your brother had built up a successful career for himself by now. of course, jonathan was just as, if not, more successful, with his name plastered in every article and paper in gotham about the remarkable work he was doing at arkham asylum.

you'd met jonathan while you were still in high school, but you only started to get close with him during your first year of university. one evening, you'd gotten a little too drunk at a frat party with your friends, and ended up calling your brother to come pick you up in your drunken state.

unfortunately, he had informed you that he was just swamped at work — but he would get his best friend, jonathan, to do him a favour and pick you up since he only lived about ten minutes away from the area you were partying at.

when he picked you up, all you could focus on was how handsome he was — why hadn't you noticed this before? not to mention his intoxicatingly blue eyes; how could someone have eyes that blue?!

after that — the two of you had become quite close. suddenly, you were tagging along if your brother and jonathan had plans, and you were also hanging out with jonathan when your brother wasn't around as well.

something just clicked when you two were together, despite him being nearly a decade older than you. the two of you would frequently make plans to meet up, whether that was to get food together or watch movies snuggled up on the couch of his apartment.

just as friends though, of course — he was your brothers best friend. plus, you were sure that jonathan would never see you in that way.

and since you'd been friends for a minute, he knew just what you liked; what made you smile. he'd even see boys come and go, he knew what made you cry. though he'd never say it aloud — he wanted to be the one to treat you right.

"what time is it?" you asked.

jonathan checked his watch, "quarter to seven." he replied, making you groan as you got up from his couch. "where are you going?"

"home," you sighed, "i have a date tonight — nate's picking me up at nine."

"you just broke up with your boyfriend two weeks ago, and you have a date already?" he asked with surprise, and you rolled your eyes as he got up with you.

"yes, so what? i told you that two month relationship meant nothing to me anyway." you shrugged, and jonathan looked at you with concern as he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. "spare me the judgement please, jonathan."

jonathan always drove you — even though you had your own license and car, he insisted. "i'm not judging you, i just don't want you to get hurt." he said with a sigh, and for a moment, he almost sounded disappointed.

"i wont." you assured him as the two of you drove back to your home. since you were still in university, you lived at home with your parents, and it had become a routine. he'd pick you up, and sometimes you'd even stay overnight at his place — as if friends do that.

"okay, well," he said with a sigh, parking on your driveway, "just promise me you'll call me if you need anything."

"i will. i know you're working an overnight shift so i can just call my brother—"

"just call me, i'll answer." he said softly.

when jonathan told you that, you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart start to beat rapidly. you smile and nod, waving goodbye as he drove off, leaving you at home again. as you rushed upstairs to start getting ready for your date — a feeling of overwhelming dread consumed you.

you were always defensive and deflective anytime anyone asked about your commitment issues. you knew the root cause: it was jonathan. the reason nobody could ever keep your attention was because you were already too focused on someone else — your brothers best friend.

you went on date after date, dated guy after guy, only to break their hearts months (and sometimes even just weeks) later. you were a professional at delivering the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech. you were sure that at some point, someone would help you get over jonathan.

but nobody ever did.

however, that all changed after your date with some guy named nate from your class had gone poorly. he was very clearly into you, however you on the other hand, were not into him at all. your mind was doing that thing again.

you know, the thing where your thoughts were consumed with jonathan and jonathan only — thoughts of what he was doing right now. how was work going for him? your mind was spinning as you daydreamed what it would be like to be the one he'd come home to every night, after a hard day.

"did you hear what i asked?" nate's voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up at him as you mindlessly swished the clear liquor in your martini glass.

"oh, m'sorry — no." you say in a bored manner, making no attempt to conceal your disinterest.

"whatever," nate sighed, clearly frustrated with your lack of interest for the last hour over drinks, "enjoy your night, i guess."

he places a fifty on the bar top, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out of the bar you were in. you made no attempt to stop him, and instead, you order another martini for yourself as you let the liquor stir inside of you.

tonight, you felt like you'd hit a dead end. when were you going to learn that this would never work? when would you come to terms with the fact that another guy wouldn't fill the jonathan shaped void in your heart?

reaching into your purse, you grab your phone and put it up to your ear as you heard the dial tone.

"hello?" jonathan's voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"jonathan, hey," you said softly, "i'm sorry for calling, i know you're busy at work right now—"

"do you need me to come pick you up?" he asked, interjecting you and your tipsy apology.

"i-i can call my brother, it's fine. i don't even know why i called—" you said, suddenly feeling very choked up.

jonathan's tone went from casual to concerned in a matter of seconds as he heard you sniffling from the other end of the line. "are you okay? where are you? i'm leaving right now."

maybe it was the gin or maybe it was the harboured feelings you'd been denying for the last year — perhaps both — but all you wanted to do was drunkenly cry and confess the way you felt for him.

screw being just friends, right?

after telling jonathan the address, you let the liquor do the talking. "jonathan?" you asked, to which he hummed over the line, "i just — i have feelings for you."

as you let out your slightly drunken confession, you hang up the phone before he had a chance to respond, throwing back the rest of your martini as you made your way outside. the weather in gotham tonight was miserable, rain pouring down heavily as the night sky was glum.

this was not your best moment — but when jonathan heard your little confession, his cold heart melted a little. even if it took a little liquid courage to get there, then so be it — he'd finally got conformation that you felt the same.

you weren't sure how long you were stood outside in the parking lot of the bar, letting the rain pour down on you dramatically, but you started to shiver. of course you did — you were in heels and a dress, and now, you were soaked from head to toe.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out and you looked to your left to see a familiar car parked, with a familiar man in a suit and glasses rushing over to you. "what are you doing out here? it's pouring." jonathan said with concern, taking his suit jacket off and immediately placing it around you. "come on, i'll take you back to my place — i took the night off of work."

"why?" you ask suddenly, making jonathan raise a brow.

"what do you mean why? just — get in the car, it's pouring." he asked with confusion, but you continued to argue.

"how long are you going to keep pretending were just friends?" you choke back a sob, and he looks at you with concern once more. "friends don't — fuck, friends don't do what we do!"

"how drunk are you?"

"i'm not even that drunk!" you exasperate, "i just wanted an excuse to call you!"

"of course i don't think of you as a friend!" he exclaimed, "but you're out with a new guy every month!"

"because i was scared of telling you how i felt. i only ever wanted you!" you exclaimed back, tears streaming down your face as you were both intoxicated and vulnerable.

as soon as he noticed your tears, he stepped closer to you in the pouring rain, letting it soak you both. his hand suddenly reached up to cup your face gently, "why on earth wouldn't you just tell me?"

"you're my brothers best friend. and were friends, i just figured—"

"what if i don't want to be just friends?" he asked as you blinked your tears away. "haven't you noticed the way i look at you whenever you're around? the way i would drop anything to be there for you, no questions asked?"

everything was happening so fast, from your drunk confession to letting out a year of pent-up emotions — but it didn't matter anymore. you'd fallen for him and now, it was clear that he had fallen for you too.

"then fuck being just friends." you whispered.

within seconds, his lips came crashing down on yours as the gotham rain poured down on the both of you in the parking lot. alcohol was coursing through your veins, but now, so was adrenaline. you weren't sure how it all happened — but in the midst of a big, blurry mess, you ended up in jonthan's bed sharing sloppy, hungry kisses together.

his touch was gentle — loving — and you melted into it. carefully, he slipped your soaking dress off, and you tried not to cower under his gaze. those blue eyes of his had such an effect on you, and he smiled softly as he tried to ease your nerves.

"we don't have to do this — just tell me to stop and we can." he whispered lovingly, gently playing with your hair. "i don't want you to feel pressured since you've been drinking."

"i want to do this jonathan," you insisted, feeling a cocktail of emotions bubbling all at once, "i just really care about you. about us — i don't want to...screw things up between you and me."

"i know," he whispered, "but i promise, nothing will change between us—"

"i've had feelings for you for a long time." you said suddenly. "if we do this, i need to know you're serious."

he hummed softly in acknowledgement and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "ever since last year, when we started to hangout alone. just us..." he trailed off, admiring every detail of your pretty face. "i couldn't stop myself from falling for you."

"god, jonathan. you're such a sappy romantic deep down." you teased lightly, making him smile. "and all this time i thought you were in love with your job."

"well that," he said softly, "but i fell in love with you too."

your breath got caught in your throat as the words fell from his lips. not to mention your heart started to race about a million miles a minute. all this time you'd been harbouring your feelings for jonathan — he'd felt the same.

"i-i fell in love with you too," you confess, rambling on innocently, "s-sorry, i feel like i'm making things so awkward—"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands now resting on your hips as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles onto your skin. "relax, sweetheart," he whispered, "just lay back for me. let me show you how much i love you."

slowly, he started to pepper kisses down your stomach and thighs, making you squirm a little under his feather light touch. his hands came to paw at the waistband of your underwear, and if you weren't red in the face before — you definitely were now.

"are you comfortable?" jonathan asked softly, his icy blue eyes piercing through yours as he looked up at you from between your thighs. "is this okay?"

the sight was driving you to the brink of insanity, and with a desperate nod, you look down at him nervously. "y-yeah, just a little nervous." you admitted with honesty.

"have you ever...?" he raised a brow, his breathing slightly ragged.

"y-yeah, no i have before," you say as your heart raced, "i-it's just — it's you."

"what does that mean?"

"you...make me nervous." you say with pink cheeks, nervously giggling as his fingers toyed with the lace of your panties.

"like i said before," his voice dropped several octaves as he slid your underwear down your legs, "let me ease your nerves, darling."

you barely had a chance to react before his hands were gripping at your thighs, and his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your soaked cunt. your head fell back onto the pillows as every pent up anxious thought suddenly left your body, the only thing coming out of your mouth being breathless moans.

as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, he ate you out like his life depended on it — the man was gifted with the knowledge of anatomy, after all. he knew a few things.

his tongue continued to lick all around your dripping folds, lapping up your arousal as you fell apart from his touch. as he took your clit into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. you could feel him smirk against your cunt when you moaned — which turned you on more if that was even possible.

"j-jonathan," you moaned feverishly, "i-i'm so close—"

"yeah, are you?" he asked with a muffled voice, face still buried in your cunt, "come on, darling, let me taste all of you."

as he worked his skillful tongue in your hole, your back arched and his name started to fall from your lips over and over again like a chant. you swore you started to see stars from the way he was eating you out, devouring your body as if you were something to be cherished. to be worshipped.

as you came on his tongue, jonathan lapped up every last drop of you, sparing no mercy as he continued to lick every part of your pussy even after you'd came.

"s'too much," you whined, "but i need you inside of me, jon."

he finally pulled away from your puffy, needy little hole, wiping his lips and chin with his suit sleeve. he tossed his suit jacket onto the floor in a rush, and you were holding back moans as you watched him undress.

it felt like an eternity (forty-five whole seconds), but he got undressed as he positioned himself between your spread legs. how's that supposed to fit?! you thought to yourself, watching in awe as his thick cock leaked pre cum from the tip.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he teased, causing you to scoff.

"shut up, i didn't think you'd be...so b-big." you managed to choke out, cheeks burning.

"so, what i'm hearing is that you've thought about us having sex before."

"oh my god, shut — mmph!" as you were about to dish out something back, he pushed his throbbing cock into your cunt without warning, catching you off guard as he split you in two.

"you were saying?" he cooed mockingly, moving his hips gently as you adjusted to his size.

"mm, fuuuck—" you moaned, unable to comprehend his teasing as he fucked you deliciously with his fat cock.

"awe, how cute," he cooed, "you're already cockdrunk. what a needy little thing you are, hm?"

he suddenly took hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he fucked you faster, deeper — harder. you let out a strangled, choked moan as his cock hit all the right places inside of you, rubbing against that spongy spot as he fucked you closer and closer to your release.

jonathan groaned through gritted teeth, trying not to lose his sanity as he felt your warm, wet, hole clench around his cock. "fuck, you're so tight — perfect fucking pussy."

"a-ah, you feel, fuuck — so good, jonathan. right there—!"

"right there, darling?" he asked, emphasizing his words by snapping his hips into you harsher each time, "you like it when i fuck you like this? when i turn you into a desperate little whore, is that it?"

"yes, f-fuck y-yes!" you whine breathlessly, your mind going blank.

"i bet you love getting your pussy stretched like this, don't you?" he cooed with faux sympathy, "you love getting ruined by me."

"m-mhm!" you agree mindlessly, barely able to focus on his words with the way he was brutally pounding your cunt. "l-love you, jon."

"oh fuck— look at you pretty girl. so ruined and so fucking eager to please me." he growled lowly, watching you fall apart underneath him as you took his cock deeper. "god, i love you too — and i love watching you turn into nothing but a little fucktoy for me."

his degrading words didn't match with the saccharine tone that managed to slip through his voice. but you were too fucked out and ruined to put two and two together.

"come on my cock, darling." he commanded softly, feeling your cunt fluttering around his cock. "come for me."

his words pushed you over the edge, and within seconds, you were babbling incoherently again as he fucked you senseless. you couldn't process your thoughts — your brain short circuiting as your release washed over you.

the sight of you getting fucked dumb by him was enough to make jonathan come on the spot, and as you came all over his cock, he was filling your cunt with his warm seed. he let out a low, gravelly moan as he painted your walls white with his cum, and you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to keep him close.

after the both of you caught your breath in the now oddly quiet bedroom in his apartment, he let out a breath as he winced, pulling out of you.

"so does this mean were just friends?" he joked, pulling you into his arms as you scoffed. "kidding — you're forever mine now, darling. don't you ever forget it."

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh

302 notes · View notes

whimsicalwritingsandmore · 9 months

Text

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: mention of an emotional affair

Word Count: 3143 words

a/n: the chapter I have been waiting for. :') it is time. I look forward to your reactions and feedback! It'll definitely help me work on my writing for these types of scenes in the future! :D Enjoyyy! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7

When you thought about it, you had a lot of feelings going on at the moment. Your emotional state felt like a merry-go-round that was never-ending. There were times when you didn’t know what to think when it came to your situation with the boys. This was one of those times.

All your life you had learnt that the bond between mates was sacred and predestined. You were taught that it was something that couldn’t be explained with logic, it was a connection so heavenly and divine, you were tied to one another for forever and more. To a point, you believed that there was indeed a revered and sanctified essence to the bond you and your mates created. But was it really unbreakable?

When you sought therapy from Chan’s friend Ryunjin, she didn’t give you a complete doom and gloom outlook on things. She reassured that there could be a possibility of reconciliation but, not everything was necessarily foreordained.

“Is it even worth it to continue? I feel like it’s all been a lie.” you dispassionately asked.

“In a perfect world, there would be no mistakes. So then, it might be fair to walk away in that case. But realistically, we are all prone to committing errors, and if we were to always leave and continue searching for perfection, we’ll always be searching and never satisfied.”

“I don’t know if I could trust them.”

“That’s fair, you don’t need to immediately off the bat, you should first talk to them and take it from there. I‘ll be honest, you know deep down the right answer, it’s up to you to decide what is best for you.”

Yes, fate allowed you to meet the boys.

Yes, fate brought you all together as each other’s mates.

Yes, fate played a significant role in your relationship when you thought about it.

But fate also played a harsh game with you, as some would say. You were thrust into an emotional upheaval and everything you ever knew and were told about love and relationships was far from the truth. So yes, you believed a relationship was sacred and you believed people were meant to come into your life and cross paths for a reason. But it did not mean they would necessarily always be a part of the journey.

Ultimately, you still loved the boys. And deep down, the thought of just walking away felt unacceptable given that there was still a lot that you wished to communicate, discuss and get off your chest. Once you had gotten past the anger that simmered inside of you like a boiling pot, you felt more reassured that you could have a civil discussion with a firm and determined but also calm resolve.

It surprised you just how much anger there was contained in you. As you continued your sessions and Ryunjin continued asking questions and poked you for answers, it all erupted like a volcano.

And it felt really good to let it all out.

However, you didn't expect things to happen so soon. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren't really sure when the right time would present itself, so you decided to leave it up to fate. If anything, your belief had been further strengthened given the last few months. Life may have been harsh, but it resolidified the courage and strength that you didn’t realize you had in you.

Minho had informed you that your bond to the boys would remain passive as if it was in a deep slumber until you chose to communicate with them. With no communication in the past six months, they could not sense where you were but rather feel your lingering presence somewhere.

At the window, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho all stood with glassy eyes as they peered inside. Only Hongjoong wore an unreadable expression.

Your mind wandered to your past.

Kim Hongjoong was the reserved but charming boy in your primary school who you befriended as it was just the two of you who sat at a table alone, everyone else in their own little groups. He looked at you occasionally and you thought he was weird. It wasn’t until during lunch when you heard some of your classmates snickering about you behind your back, he passed you a cookie, sat next to rather than opposite you, and told you he liked your hair which was in a pretty French braid. He then attempted to engage in a conversation about which games you liked to play and things you liked to do. Though a bit apprehensive, you became comfortable with him after a while and from then on, the two of you were two peas in a pod.

As you got older, it wasn’t necessarily a romantic bond. Being the two introverts that you were, both of you spent time fairly often together and hardly with anyone else. You were best friends and wherever one of you was, the other was sure to be there or nearby. When both of you attended high school, Hongjoong was the center of attention for most girls. They would gift him lavish presents on his birthday and any holidays that came by, hoping that he would return their feelings. He didn’t but you found it amusing how well liked he was.

“They don’t know how annoying you really are.” You joked.

He would respond by playfully pulling your ear and ruffling your hair. Hongjoong never told you this, but as much as he liked to mess with you, he also liked to take care of you. When you would question if your hair looked good, he would gently fix it and tell you how beautiful you looked. He would wait for you outside your classroom when your classes were separate and treat you to delicious snacks and treats from time to time. He couldn’t explain it at the time, you were special to him although you weren’t bonded, and it irked him when someone would try to woo you off your feet.

Like the time you received a rose from a classmate for your birthday, Hongjoong was not amused. He latched onto you and followed you everywhere you went, and then brood at the person trying to sweet talk you.

Then on your 16th birthday, you both bonded and realized you were each other’s better half. It all made sense now in your minds and Hongjoong adored you more than anything.

The next two years were just the two of you, filled with fondness, devotion and tenderness.

Snapping back to the present, you were frozen in your spot. There they were, and excluding Mingi, it had been six months since you last saw them. They all still looked the same as far as you could tell in contrast to yourself, who now sported blonde highlights and layered hair complimented with a small nose ring on the right side of your nose.

You invited them in, joined two tables with their assistance and brought out eight cups of peppermint and chamomile tea. You sat at the head of the table with four boys each on either side. No one attempted to break the lingering silence.

Until Seonghwa did.

"Your hair looks very pretty." He complimented in a sweet soft voice.

"T-thank you." You slightly bowed, touching your hair. It caught you off guard, they seemed to be so calm and that puzzled you.

"Mingi told us about you being here," Yunho stated, "We felt your bond after a long time."

"Mhm," You nodded in response, "When I got cornered, I initiated it to alert Mingi."

"Who were they?" San asked.

"Humans turned into rogues actually. My friend Changbin did some research, just like what we heard back home, some of the rogues managed to escape here and turned anyone who offered their loyalty and liked to wreck havoc."

You heard slight snarls emitting from some of the boys. Given everything that happened with the rogues, each of them was ready to tear any of them apart if given the chance.

"We're so glad you're okay. When Mingi told us what you've been doing, we felt comforted to know you were somewhere safe." Jongho declared.

Hongjoong scoffed.

There it was. If there was anyone out of eight of them who wouldn't hesitate to hide his annoyance and anger, it would be Hongjoong.

"Are we done with the small talk and pretending like we aren't mad?" He announced.

"Hongjoong." Seonghwa warned.

"No, I will not keep quiet," he seethed, turning to you with pure, fiery anger in his eyes, "Tell me Y/N, was it fun? Frolicking around and pretending like you didn't have any mates waiting for you."

"Hongjoong!" Wooyoung yelled.

But Hongjoong ignored everyone and continued, "We were worried sick, we were broken, we needed you and here you are living your life without any regret."

"It's not like that Hongjoong." You started.

"That's enough Hongjoong!” Mingi exclaimed.

"No, it's not enough, don't you remember the pain you were feeling Mingi? The aching feeling and sleepless nights. We were all miserable, and not just us, the young ones at the daycare were pining for her too but she didn't even care."

"You don't know..."

"Don't know what? Tell me what I don't know Y/N. Because it seems my mother was right about you."

That one statement paused everything. For a moment, you reeled yourself at Hongjoong's words. Kim Hongjoong was the first one you met, the first one you bonded to and the first one you kissed and shared most intimate moments with in the beginning before meeting the others. It was just you and him before meeting Mingi and now, he sat across from you saying the one thing you hoped you would never hear him say.

"Maybe my mom was right."

Mrs Kim hated you and you never knew why. But those sessions with Ryunjin revealed something.

“She hates you because you have what she couldn’t.”

It didn't take long for you to see red. The anger you once thought you had come to terms with erupted again and in your subconscious you slowly put the pieces together. Hongjoong's mother was the reason for the majority of your insecurities and while the boys did carry their own faults in neglecting you, she was the cause that made you spiral further. She was the one pushing Lila and she was the one who would make comments about the boys not liking a whining Luna, and the "fact" that a Luna is supposed to not be a nuisance to her mates. All because, in her eyes and mind, she saw you as an embodiment of what she could never have again.

And just like that, you snapped.

"You're a real piece of work Kim Hongjoong," you snarled viciously.

Hongjoong's eyes snapped in surprise along with everyone else’s by your tone. No Luna as far as it was known would use that kind of tone with her mate. And the fact that you did was extremely shocking to them.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," you bit back ferociously, "You have the guts to sit there and accuse me so shamelessly as if you are a saint who never messes up or makes a mistake."

Hongjoong didn't respond, he glared at you trying to assert dominance but failed.

"You're talking about the pain you felt, okay fine, I won't dispute your feelings. But what about how I felt? What about my sleepless nights and my aching heart. Does none of that matter? You’re completely disregarding my feelings? I was falling apart Hongjoong! I was crushed and at my wits end and you know more than anything how hard I tried to get your mother's approval, only for you to sit there and tell me she was right? Was she really? Because I sacrificed a lot more than you did Kim Hongjoong and you know that. What do you not know Hongjoong? You know everything and you know exactly what you did." You barked.

"Wait..." Yeosang interrupted, "Y/N what do you mean?"

You narrowed your gaze at Hongjoong who looked everywhere but at you, poking his cheek with his tongue. Tears streamed down your face uncontrollably and you felt your resolve breaking apart slowly but you held your ground.

"Do you remember what you told me Hongjoong? I should dress up more like Lila. Kind of funny how you were so into how she dressed and what she wore. I knew you two had a similar interest in fashion, so I tried to write it off, but then the way you hugged her, the way you were so into what she was doing, your "harmless" messages…you knew exactly what you were doing."

"What are you trying to say—"

"YOU WERE HAVING AN EMOTIONAL AFFAIR!” You shrieked. “You were emotionally cheating on me Hongjoong and you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew my insecurities but you didn't care, you expected me to keep quiet and still be there for you because "I'm your mate" and I was supposed to listen to you and obey. You were using me Hongjoong exactly like what your mother did to your father."

The breaking of this revelation sent everyone in a spiral. They hadn't realized till all the pieces clicked together. That's why Hongjoong had Lila around so much, that's why he would keep suggesting they all should stay out late and do things. He was trying to cover his tracks because not only was he emotionally cheating on you but also on them. But it would have only been clear when you found out.

Hongjoong's mother did the same thing to his father after Hongjoong was born. It was during the sealing of the realms and his father, being clan leader, was away majority of time as a witness to the sealing. Mrs Kim found solace in another clan member until Mr Kim found out and denounced his bond with her. They continued to live together for the sake of their children as having separated parents was frowned upon and subjected the child to unfair treatment, but Hongjoong’s father built up a lot of resentment for years to come and never considered rekindling the connection. He wanted nothing to do with her romantically.

As such, Mrs Kim didn't like the way you were living such an idyllic life — you had a blissful relationship that she would never have again.

And she rathered Lila because she was the daughter of the clan member, the one who was exiled from the pack, her former love affair, and who joined another pack on the other side of town. No, she wasn’t Mrs Kim's child, Mrs Kim just simply preferred her over you.

Your voice broke the boys out from their dazes.

"I loved you Kim Hongjoong and I still do. Gosh, I still care so much about you even though I shouldn’t and I still want to make it work because I know, I know you aren't a horrible person, at least I thought you weren’t. But now I'm wondering if I really know you at all."

And that's all it took for Hongjoong's facade to break. He thought you wouldn’t find out. He knew what he was doing was wrong but his infatuation got the best of him. Truly, it started off as any ordinary friendship. Lila was kind and nice and that was that. But there were times when she would subtly flirt with him. At first, he paid no heed and rejected her affections. But after a while, when work and meetings became a bit overbearing and his mother would annoy him with the same old tell-tale of you not being good enough for him despite his reprimands that you meant everything to him, he allowed some reciprocation now and again but without any physical attachment. He thought that wouldn’t define it as him cheating…

But it did and he knew it. So he would rope in the other boys to go to lunches or dinners. They were friendly with Lila too so it wouldn’t come off as too odd, in contrast to if it was just the two of them. Hongjoong was aware that the boys did not really care for Lila like they did for you, and it would take a bit of coaxing to get them to join. Heck, even he didn’t care for her like that but it was such a spur of the moment, he couldn’t help it. He had a feeling some of the boys were questioning him before you disappeared but after your disappearance, they had all hit a wall and it was never revealed.

“I hate you.” You seethed.

Those three words broke Hongjoong from his daze. You, his best friend, first love, his first in many things, hated him and it was all his fault. He wronged you and continued to do so because he was trying to run away from the fact that his actions were damning and inexcusable. In his mind, still communicating with Lila would mean he hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was a twisted and poor attempt of trying to absolve himself from taking accountability. He could feel Mingi and Seonghwa’s fiery gazes and he was too terrified to look up to see the others.

You got up and stormed out of the café. The others just stared blankly in shock and despair from what they just heard. Hongjoong didn’t deny it and it felt like a ton of bricks hitting them all at once.

As you rushed out, Chan, Jisung, Minho and Jeongin passed by. They came to check on you but when you brushed past without acknowledging them and Chan saw your mates through the window, he immediately asked Minho to go after you. Jisung turned all around to figure out what just happened, but when he saw your mates on the other side of the window, he was not pleased. Chan felt Jisung's shift in aura. It was much darker than Jisung’s usually fun and joyful temperament and character. While Jisung may not be very good at fighting, he was very good at magic and spells, and at using strategy and wit over bod. And when someone hurts a person close to him, well, it doesn't usually end very well.

“Since when does Jisung float?” Jeongin asked.

Jisung began levitating with a menacing glare piercing through the window. Good things the streets were clear for the night.

“Oh dear,” Chan muttered, “This isn’t good.”

Jisung left the two behind, stormed into the café and scowled at the eight men.

"So,” he retorted with one hand in the air and a dark and purple cloud engulfing the room, “Which one of you is Hongjoong now, hm?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf

(I just got the chance to go through my activity and add all who requested to be on the tag list. There were quite a few notifs so if I missed you, firstly, I'm really sorry!! Please send me a private message so I can add you to the list! It'll be easier for me to catch!)

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez series #poly!ateez

377 notes · View notes

causenessus · 2 months

Text

try again

part 0.2. PLANTS.

“there’s a blue light, in my best friend’s room. there’s a blue light in his eyes.” “he sits in the waiting room. each chair has its own arms. they’re nimble and plastic, and the material of the cushions is a scratchy green. they’re the type you would find in a conference room, and he can’t decide if he likes them or not. he feels too big for the small room, but he likes the song he can hear playing from a small speaker. it took him a little bit to find it, and he constantly turned his head, trying to find where he could hear it the loudest. “there’s a ship that sails by my window.” there. he sees it on the little oak ladder shelf to his right. it’s a small white circle, and he wouldn’t have thought it to be a speaker if not for the grated cover on the front and the soft music it was playing: “i think it’s sailing. miles crashing me by. crashing me by.”

content warnings: mention of a scar (nothing about where it came from, i was thinking a bicycle accident before i decided to leave it up to interpretation), mention of "promising to stay alive", it's a therapy session so it's a free for all. lmk if i missed anything

he’s not sure he’s in the right place. maybe he missed a sign on his way in that'd tell him where to go or who he was seeing, but he'd wandered down a hall and ended up in a waiting room that had felt right initially. but now he’s wondering; he’s the only one in this tiny room, and he hasn’t seen anyone pass by. it’s silent, besides the small hum of music.

then he hears two muffled voices of laughter come from the wall behind him, and the shuffle of footsteps nearing the door to his left. he’ll find out where he is soon enough, he supposes.

the door knob clicks and creaks, automatically grabbing his attention as he looks toward the source of the noise. a girl who appears to be in her late teens or early adulthood walks out first, whom he’s never seen in his life, but he recognizes the second girl that walks out.

of course he does, how could he not?

he saw her nearly if not everyday of his life when they were kids, all the way up until their first year in high school, where gradually he started to see her less and less until he never saw her. she disappeared from the school halls and the streets they used to walk down together. he knew she was still there, somewhere, but he could never find her. they’re both frozen now, staring at each other. whoever walked out before her seems to get the message and bows slightly before taking her leave.

he’s not even sure what to say. the first words that come to mind are ‘i’m sorry.’

for what? leaving her? watching her leave and not stopping her? the next thing that comes to mind is ‘what even happened between us? i missed you.’

of course he fucking missed her, although it feels like he's just now fully realizing it. she had been nearly as important to him as volleyball, and it had been nice to have something in his life not connected to the sport. he loved the sport, he truly did, and it was his biggest priority when he was younger, but now he was starting to feel that passion wane, as much as he hated to admit it. if he hoped to get anything out of talking about this problem with someone, it was that he’d be able to enjoy the sport again. and maybe it’d be like old times. maybe she would be the center of gravity he revolved around again, being the anchor that keeps him upright even when times got rough.

she felt sick, seeing him again. she had been wishing to see him again for so long, and yet apparently, in reality, she wasn’t ready to see him again. her thoughts immediately went to her appearance, and how she had looked and acted, seeing off her last client. and, most importantly, why was he here? why was she seeing him here of all places?

then it clicks. atsumu's "friend."

of course.

of course he would pull something like this.

her brain immediately goes on autopilot, because she can’t stand there all day gawking at the man who hasn’t ever left her mind. not since she first met him. not since they stopped talking to each other. not even nine years later, after the night she cried alone in her bed when she finally accepted the truth that he didn't care about her, and she’d never see him again. “om– sakusa. hi. good to see you. why don’t you come in?”

she retreats back into her office, quickly setting a pillow back up on the nearby couch in a futile attempt to tidy up the room before she retreats to her own seat.

he follow her in without a word, eyes taking in the interior of her room. he likes it more than the waiting room. there’s a wide window taking up most of the wall in front of him, displaying the sight of a more rural side of osaka. it took a train ride and a bit of a walk to get here, but seeing this view, he decides maybe it was worth it. maybe more walks in open spaces was actually all he needed to feel better.

or maybe all he needed was her presence.

she sits in a chair across from the one he’s in. there’s a small glass coffee table between them with a group of small succulents centered atop it and the decoration surprises him. for as long as he's known her, she always somehow managed to kill every bunch of flowers he gave her within a few days. his grandma would buy him a small bouquet after some of his volleyball games when he was younger and he never wanted them. he'd give them to her instead because she loved plants, despite never being able to keep them alive.

but it’s obvious from the number of pots lining her windowsill that she’s changed. he wants to bring it up, but he’s not sure what she would think. he doesn’t even know what she’s thinking about now.

it’s silent between them. the tension is suffocating. he’s not looking at her, but she can’t tear her eyes away from him. she’s never thought about how she’s grown, but looking at him now, it feels strange; like there’s a younger version of herself inside of her that can still see right through the man across from her, into the kid in him. but they’ve both matured, both locked that childish wonder behind many walls in their hearts now.

she hasn’t seen him since their first year in high school. of course, she's seen his face in print and on screens, but it was much different in person. compared to the image her eyes would always remember, of a boy with brighter eyes, filled with aspiration, always looking towards the future, the edges of his lips curved ever so slightly into a confident smile whenever he had his mask off–now he just looked tired. he had the same hooded eyes as always, yet they looked duller, and perhaps there were darker bags under them. his lips were permanently pressed into a thin line, with no traces of a smile anywhere. his frame was larger from years of hard work, yet he was downplaying it with his posture, shoulders curved and head held grim and low. his hands were long, but worn and calloused, and his legs were restless, nothing like the calm and still body that she used to stand side by side with.

“so,” she breaks the silence, knowing they’ll have to talk eventually. she’s playing with her own fingers nervously, feeling like the break of silence is a crime. she's not ready to talk to him, but maybe if she remains passive and neutral towards him, he’ll act the same way back, and they won’t have to think about how much they really know about each other–that she could still tell him exactly how many moles line his arms, and he could tell her about the scar on her upper thigh. “you made an appointment with me?”

“did you know it was me? you agreed to see me even though you knew it was me?” they’re the first words he’s said to her in years and they come out words brashfully, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth before he can even process what he’s just said.

her eyes are soft, while his are sharper and bolder. the way they droop gives her a safe, welcoming appearance as if promising that she can keep a secret, that she will listen without judging, and that he'll feel better after he talks to her. but her brows furrow in hurt, and he sees the glassy look in her eyes after his words. “i didn’t know it was you. i see atsumu all the time and he asked if i’d be willing to see one of his friends and i said of course. he said 'his friend' was on the fence about therapy so we just agreed that if he–you–wanted to see me more, we could figure that out later. i had no idea who you were–and even if i knew i did, is there something wrong with that? did i do something wrong?–” she clamps her lips shut, realizing she's said too much. she lets out a quiet sigh to restart before smoothing the fabric of her pants, “i’m sorry. that’s unprofessional of me. forget i said that last part. but i mean– did he not tell you who you were seeing? he just told you to show up here?”

he doesn’t like her being professional. he misses her smile. not the one she gave to the client she saw out before she told him to follow her in; the one that she would give him when they were together and he said something she found amusing. he doesn’t like what he said to her, and he digs his nails into his palms, regretting how this meeting has turned so sour, all because of him. “no. he didn’t,” he says, and he realizes his voice is still cold. he should add something else: “but there’s nothing wrong with that. it’s good to see you.”

he means what he says, but her frown remains, and she looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. she doesn't say anything in response, instead pulling her laptop from a nearby table onto her lap. “okay. well, you came here for a reason. what’s been going on? you can start from as far back as you want. this first meeting will serve as an introduction to both of us, so that you can get a feel for how i do things and so that i can understand what you’re going through, and how i can best help you.”

she’s cutting off any chance they have to look at each other as friends anymore, and he hates that, but there’s no way out of this spot she’s cornered him into, so he does what she asks. he tells her of the day he was benched, and how it's affected him ever since, leading to thought spirals and feelings that have been building up every day, which he's been choosing to shove down instead of getting out.

“would you consider writing down your thoughts, then? either in a notes app or with actual pen and paper, either one works. but the action serves as a way to clear your mind. you can do it whenever you’d like, whether that be when you first wake up, at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the day. the point is to write down any thoughts you have that are stressing you out, like all the things you feel that you need to get done. you write them down so that you're able to take those thoughts out of your mind and put them somewhere instead of letting them stay stuck in there forever, bothering you and weighing you down even long after you’ve forgotten what it is you’re stressing about.”

she suggests things and reiterates some of the points he makes ever so often. the way she takes a backseat in the conversation, letting him do most of the thinking and talking, makes it easy for him to pretend he hasn’t known her for years, but he doesn’t want to think of her that way. he finds himself looking around her room as she talks, taking in all the small details. maybe on the train ride home, he'll take into consideration what she's just suggested and write down what he thinks of her office.

her place is warm and inviting, and the more he looks at it, the more he thinks that it’s so her. from the mute, natural colors of the furniture that she’s meticulously picked out, the way she’s neatly organized a stack of papers on a desk nearby, along the same wall as the window to his side looking out to a verdant landscape– he even thinks about the books he saw on the shelf outside in her waiting room. he had recognized some of those books, and yet he hadn’t pieced together why he had such a nostalgic, longing, feeling in his chest.

it was because it was her.

perhaps the plants are what threw him off. the plants. again with the plants. he thinks about the daisies planted outside her house, that he passed every time he visited. he remembers seeing her mother out there, using a hose to water their flowers while she sat on the porch, waiting for him. she would complain to him about the fact that her mother wouldn’t let her help with the garden work, because of her “cursed black thumb” and the way her mother scolded her, hearing her daughter complain about her while she could still hear her.

she’s giving him the chance to pretend that they’re nothing more than a therapist and a client meeting for the first time, but he wants to decline the offer. he wants to ask her about what’s going on in her life, and he thinks maybe that would help with his own struggles, too; if he could hear about what she’s been doing with her life. he thinks it would help to go out for late dinners with her again, spend nights over at each other’s places again, and to just talk to her normally again. seeing her face once more after so long, he can’t look away. being in her presence now, sitting in a room filled with her heart, he feels a weight lift from the back of his head that he hasn’t been able to get rid of for so long. maybe she’s what he’s been missing this whole time.

his roommates know him well, atsumu knows him best, but none of them compare to her. nothing compares to the memories flowing through his head, of the late nights they spent out by the fire pit in her backyard, of nights spent in each other’s rooms, laughing and sharing stories, of the time her mother pulled out a foldable, stiff, scratchy bed stand for him to sleep on at their first sleepover when her mother wasn’t yet sure of him. he had tossed and turned around restlessly on that bedstand. when she asked him what was wrong, he told her he was homesick, and she let him sleep with her in her bed. nothing compared to the conversations they had late on his bedroom floor, where she slept beside him when it had become too weird for them to sleep in the same bed. nothing compared to the promises to stay together or to stay alive. and yet he’d broken that first promise.

he was telling her now about everything that was going on in his life, every thought he was having, but he wanted to just stop and say, “you already know this, don’t you?” because they were the same thoughts that had plagued him for years. the obsessions and compulsions that bothered him at all times, the strangling feeling in his chest–she’d heard all of this before.

but that silver laptop on her lap seems to be a wall between them, preventing them from being close like they were before. she keeps typing away, nodding, flicking her eyes up to meet his ever so often, but never too long for him to be able to read anything about them.

the time goes by faster than he thinks, and an hour has passed before he knows it. he wouldn’t have noticed if they had gone on for even longer than an hour, but she cuts them short when she puts that cursed computer to the side and straightens out her legs, “well, i would be open to meeting with you more, sakusa. everything you've told me today sounds like a lot, and i think it would be beneficial for you to have some extra support while balancing such a taxing career, but it’s your decision. the way i work, the first meeting is always free since it's just a warmup. if you want to see me again, your insurance should cover the majority of the cost. i’ll write down my email for you so that you contact me if you’d like to make another appointment and then i’ll walk you out.” she gets straight to the point, standing up and finding a stray sticky note to scribble something down on before walking towards the door like she’s eager to have him out of her space.

there’s so much he wants to say:

“call me omi, like you used to.”

“i still have your number saved, can i text you instead?”

“of course i want to see you again. and not just in this setting. but as friends.”

but he knows it’s too early to say any of that. he’s stuck in his head again, pulling at the fabric at his pants before he realizes she’s waiting on him. the door is open, and she wants him to leave. “okay,” he says quietly. “thank you for listening to me. i’ll think about it and email you if i decide i want to see you again.”

inside his head, something in him feels more triumphant, like he’s won control of the situation again. it’s his decision if he wants to see her again; he decides if she sees him again.

but in his chest, something twists. he wants her to say it back, that she wants to see him again. that it was good to see him again. but of course she won’t say that. he’s the client.

he wishes she would say something. anything. just one thing that’s not “professional,” or whatever she calls it.

“sounds good. if you send an email, just include what your availability is and i’ll tell you mine,” she says, holding out the note for him to grab as he passes by her. he feels lightheaded, and he has to force himself to keep walking, ignoring the way his body automatically pulls himself towards her.

“and sakusa,” she calls out, making him lose any sense of control he had left. he never could resist her, could he? whenever she asked him to sneak out of the house or buy her something to eat.

he freezes in his steps and looks back at her. he’s not sure what his face looks like; if his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, and it’s obvious that he’s hoping she’ll say what he wants her to. or maybe his face is stern and apathetic, and he’ll shun her away like he did before.

“it sounds like you’ve made it really far. you’ve made a name for yourself, and you’re working towards your dreams. that’s good. you’re doing good,” she has a small smile on her face as she stands facing him, half hiding behind her wooden door. it’s nothing like the wide smiles she would give as his ears rang with her laughter, but maybe this one was even better. it’s a smile that says “maybe we can be more. maybe be can try again."

he’s at a loss for words, still looking at her. maybe it’s stupid and embarrassing, but he really hopes his face is expressive instead of something emotionless and unreadable.

because he takes too long to respond, and suddenly the door is shut in his face, leaving him in her tiny square waiting room, painfully aware of how alone he is.

again.

" the mind forgets, but the heart always remembers. "

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

sorry for any repetition!! i tried to do it three times since that's a grammar thing i think <3

slightly more light hearted next chapter! thank u for reading <3

gonna put little notes at the end of the chapter from omi, just detailing his thoughts like y/n suggested him to do <3

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @hyenagoated @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

106 notes · View notes

shugar0cone · 8 months

Text

“Mama y/n pt2”

I thought about the convo me and Charlie had. I looked at my husband who was cooking some elk stew (best fucking meat ever)! Don’t know if is he’ll elk or demon elk. I hugged behind him and sighed. “You know my love.” I say. “You hurt Charlie’s feeling maybe you should apologize.” Al stopped stating his stew and turned his head to me like an owl. “Apologizing would mean I’m wrong, and I’m never wrong.” I thought. “So you do view Charlie as our kid.” I say perking up at him. “Oh heavens no it was to get to her father.” I was again saddened.

I was in the shower, thinking to myself and doing my nightly routine. Alastor opened the door to do his nightly routine. I seen his shadow at the sink. “You’re a fucking dick.” I say under my breath. “Hm?” I jumped to see my husband having the curtains pulled and looking at me. “ALASTOR YOU GOTTA WARN A GIRL ITS FUCKING COLD!” I say. He then stepped in the shower with me fully clothed. Maybe if I wasn’t so pissed I’d be laughing at the situation, yes me and my husband did take showers together and yes we’ve seen each other unclothed but I was wondering why he was doing this… “darling what’s wrong.” He grabbed my cheek. “You hurt Charlie’s feelings and more then you usually do. I’m going to be honest I see her as my kid and she… she doesn’t believe me just because of you.” I crossed my arms putting them to my stomach and putting my head down. “And maybe I’m just mad at you because I have nothing else’s to blame.” I cried. “I love you Alastor but.” I can tell he tensed at but. “Ever since we died I can’t just be y/n Im known as alastors wife, radios muse. I can’t fucking have friends because they’re scared of you!” I say now sadness filling with anger. “I’m tierd of it, I want to be known as y/n again!” I grabbed his soaked shirt. Maybe he came in here like this because he knew this is how I let my emotions come out and cleanse my soul. “I fucking hate my afterlife!” My head fell on his chest. “But at the same time.” I say now hugging him. “I’m happy to be with you.” Alastor smiled. “Maybe you need to join in on Charlie’s therapy sessions.” He said kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry I’m so bi polar.” I say wiping my tears.” “And I’m not?” He tried to make me feel better.

A/N: probably another failure of a fan fox just because of how quickly this was wrote and how lazy but hey here is another one! See you my loves <3

-Shugar

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #charlie morningstar #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #vaggie #fanfic

191 notes · View notes

eggluverz · 1 year

Note

omg omg omg my therapy blog!!! ok. so. Highschool AU! Dan Heng x Fem! Reader It's basically Jing Yuan setting up his besties together. For some context: -Dan Heng's the student gov. president and is descending into a void of unhealthy perfectionism -So Jing Yuan is trying to get him a gf to take his mind off things...And reader (his other bestie) is the perfect candidate... I'm excited how you'll write this!!!

NO TIME TO WASTE

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader

GENRE. modern au, school au, fluff

WORD COUNT. 2,349

SUMMARY. dan heng's a workaholic, you're the only one who can get him to look away from his work, and jing yuan thinks the two of you just need to get together.

SOF'S NOTE. thank you anon for the request!! fhsjgfds therapy blog 🥹 i hope u enjoy! it can be read as hs or college au i didn't specify! but i loved student pres dan heng and meddling jing yuan LOL ty for reading! 🥰

Jing Yuan watched as his friend slowly spiraled into insanity. It was the quiet type of insanity— One in which his friend was staying up late and not getting enough sleep, only focusing on grades, classes, and extracurriculars, taking on way more responsibilities than a normal, sane person could handle, and even neglecting his social life and connections for it all.

Dan Heng continued to switch between his daily planner and the notes on his laptop, furiously typing away and completely oblivious to Jing Yuan’s concerns.

Resting his head on the palm of his hand, Jing Yuan examined the student body president wordlessly. He knew being head of student government was a lot of work— Even as the secretary he found the workload to be almost overbearing at times. But that wasn’t a good reason to completely ignore other integral aspects of life.

“Sorry I’m late!”

Jing Yuan looked up at the sound and instantly smiled.

You walked through the door with three bubble teas in hand. As vice president of the student government, you frequented the counsel room along with the other members for study sessions after school. There was such thing as student council privileges, after all.

Dan Heng, who had been completely oblivious to Jing Yuan’s attempts to catch his attention, surprisingly lifted his head at the sound of your voice.

“I got us drinks for our study session!” you exclaimed, passing out the boba before sitting in the open seat next to Dan Heng. You gathered the notebooks from inside your book bag and placed it on the desk in front of you.

“Thank you,” said Dan Heng with a smile as he poked his straw through the plastic cover. “This one’s my favorite.”

Jing Yuan noticed that was the most Dan Heng has said since he stepped foot in the student council room and an idea formed in Jing Yuan’s head. Perhaps the only thing that could cure a workaholic such as Dan Heng was love. Budding love between two stressed students.

Or, at least, a date.

His two best friends, president and vice president of student government, would certainly be a force to be reckoned with.

Jing Yuan decided he had to take some action. For the greater good of his friend’s wellbeing, of course.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“So, what do you think of Dan Heng?”

Your eyes widened at your friend’s words. They could have been innocent words that held no ulterior motive, if it weren’t for the fact they came from Jing Yuan’s mouth.

He was too good at reading people and you were too transparent. It wasn’t exactly a great mix at times. For you, at least.

“W-What do you mean?” you coughed.

Jing Yuan had offered to drive you home after today’s study session and you happily obliged. While you found it strange he didn’t offer Dan Heng one as well, you paid it no mind since Dan Heng said he wanted to stop by the bookstore first anyway.

Part of you wished you offered to go to the library with him, but you quickly brushed those thoughts aside.

With one hand on the wheel, Jing Yuan glanced at you at a red light. “I’m only asking your opinion of him. Do you find him favorable? Handsome? Enticing even?”

Sitting up on your seat in high alert, you cautiously replied, “Perhaps, yes. Why do you ask?”

You weren’t one to tell lies; you saw no point in them. And Jing Yuan knew it too, hence why he is unabashedly asked such a crass question.

He smiled. “My suspicions tell me he thinks the same of you.”

“As if,” you laughed.

“I mean it.”

Raising your brow, you stared at him. “And what do you want me to do with that information?”

“Act on it, perhaps. Since Dan Heng seems too consumed by work to notice himself.”

“He seems too consumed by work to even notice me as anything romantic,” you corrected, folding your arms across your chest.

Jing Yuan parked at your driveway as he arrived in front of your house, but you stayed inside the car for his response.

“He is,” said Jing Yuan in agreement, nodding. “But that’s the issue— He’s unhealthily taking on too much schoolwork and extracurriculars and not caring for his personal life. Dan Heng would let something great pass him by without him even being aware of it.”

You couldn’t refute that, you thought with a dry smile. Dan Heng quickly became a good friend of yours after you both joined the student council, but you noticed he never really did anything outside of school and clubs. As a self-proclaimed overachiever yourself, even you made time to go on dates and spend time with friends. It was quite concerning the Dan Heng never did.

“You are that something great, in case you missed it.”

Startled, you chuckled at Jing Yuan’s words. “I’m not too sure about that, but I am interested in him. Maybe a date would be fun!”

He leaned his head back on the driver’s seat, a lazy grin spread across his lips.

Your stomach fluttered as the nerves set. “But do you think he’d agree?”

“Only Dan Heng knows the answer to that,” said Jing Yuan. “However, from what I see, he’s more interested in you than in anyone else he knows.” He ruffled the top of your head and you batted his hands away with a giggle. “Give it a shot, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Jing Yuan! I will.”

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

You had no clue why you thought listening to Jing Yuan would be a good idea.

As you stared at Dan Heng with your eyes wide open, you couldn’t help but instantly regret the words that had just left your mouth. Still, you came this far; you couldn’t simply say, “Just joking! Please forget I said anything!” now.

The man in front of you blinked slowly, seemingly speechless.

Finally, he said, “Are you asking me?”

You almost choked on air at how dense he was. There was no one else in the student council room— Jing Yuan skipped out on today’s after school homework session solely to let you and Dan Heng have the room alone.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nervous laugh, “of course I was talking to you. We’re the only ones here.” You looked around the empty room that had the door closed. “I was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Dan Heng titled his head to one side. “A romantic date, correct?”

You nodded, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of your shirt. Softly, you said, “That’s correct.”

He smiled to himself but took his time to formulate his next sentence. The silence was unnerving, but the look of happiness on his face helped soothe the butterflies in your stomach.

“I haven’t been on a date since I joined student government,” he admitted, drumming his fingers quietly against the table. “I haven’t had much time to even explore that part of my life lately. I might not be a very good date.”

You looked down at your textbook, avoiding his gaze as you braced yourself for a rejection.

“But, if you’d allow me,” Dan Heng continued, “I’d still want to try to make it a good one with you.”

Your head shot back up, unsure if you heard him right. When your eyes met his, you noticed he was smiling as he awaited your response.

“I’d love that!” you said, your expression soon matching his. “Are you sure you aren’t too busy, though?”

He was president of the student government after all. And the annual concert your campus hosted was coming up soon— You knew Dan Heng would have even more on his plate in the upcoming weeks.

For a second, Dan Heng considered it. “I will be busy, but so will you.” He tapped the clipboard with a list of potential artists you had to book for the event on your head gently. “Still, I think I can make time for a date with you.” Hearing his words out loud, he frowned and instantly corrected himself. “I want to make time to date you. Because I’m interested in you, too. In a romantic way.”

You giggled at Dan Heng’s his clarifications. It was a little messy and a little blunt, but it was very much him. And really, that’s all you wanted.

“How long have you known you were interested in me?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on your palms, eagerly waiting for his reply. “As more than a friend, of course.”

He hummed. “It’s hard to say.”

“Take your time.”

“I would say I felt different around you for a few weeks now, but, to be honest, I never pinpointed that as liking you or having feelings for you then,” he said after some deep thought. “I didn’t really entertain any thoughts of a potential romantic connection in the near future, so I’m not sure if I ever conceptualized what I feel in words before.”

You nodded in understanding, but still felt a bit downcast. It wasn’t unnatural to be unaware of your feelings, especially when trying to figure out what they meant was not your top priority. Yet, you were still saddened that Dan Heng didn’t have some huge confession to tell you like in the romance novels you had read.

Before you could get too doleful, Dan Heng spoke up again. “But,” he interjected, “what I do know is that I felt drawn to you more than I felt with any other friends.”

Your hand that was fiddling with the hem of your shirt stopped its moving as you focused fully on him.

He looked away almost sheepishly, the apples of his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink known to man. “I always looked forward to these study sessions, and I could never wait to see you come in with a grin and a bag of snacks in hand, and sometimes I would wonder what it’d be like to get dinner with just you and not the rest of the council members after a Friday study session…” Dan Heng slowly turned his gaze back onto yours, gaining more confidence of his words. “If that is me liking you, then it’s been that way for a while now.”

Hiding a grin, you bounced up and down on your seat. “Yep, that sounds like you like me, if I do say so myself!”

At your reassurance, he laughed, any hesitation fading away. “Well, there we have it then.” He picked up his pencil and started twirling it around the tips of his fingers. “And, if I may ask, when did you realize you were interested in me?”

“Maybe a month or two now,” you said after a few beats. “I just never said anything because I didn’t think you were into me at all!”

Dan Heng furrowed his brows but didn’t refute. He wasn’t the easiest person to read, after all. Especially when he didn’t know what exactly he was feeling himself.

“Jing Yuan told me he thought you might be interested, so I figured it was worth a shot— I guess a small push was all I really needed.”

“Hmm.” He placed the pencil he was spinning back on top of his notebook. “Well, I guess we have Jing Yuan to thank for once. Not that he should get used to it”

You laughed at his crass words. Dan Heng and Jing Yuan always had some sort of one-sided fighting going on, namely on Dan Heng’s end, but you knew he viewed Jing Yuan as a close friend despite his sarcasm.

“Right, we can’t let his head grow any bigger,” you teased with a chuckle. “But for this, maybe we owe him some gratitude.”

“Agreed.” Dan Heng nodded. “Enough of Jing Yuan, though. Let’s talk about our date.” He ruffled through his book bag and pulled out a flyer from inside a folder. It was crisp and clean, but he straightened it out anyway before showing you. “If you didn’t already have something in mind, there’s a new exhibit at the museum that I think you’d love.”

Your eyes briefly scanned the flyer and your excitement grew. “This looks great! I love museums!” you agreed readily.

The art would be beautiful, the history would be interesting, and maybe, just maybe, Dan Heng would hold your hand as you walked through the exhibits and even give you a kiss at the end… You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought and you chastised yourself for letting your mind run wild.

Clearing your throat, you snapped out of your fantasies. “And maybe after that, we can get dinner together?”

He nodded, the corners of his lips upturned as he put the museum flyer away.

“Great! Then all that’s left is picking day!”

“This Saturday?” he suggested.

“So soon?” you said. “Eager, are we?”

“Yes, actually.”

Your stomach flipped at his honesty and you felt yourself growing bashful. “Well, I am too.”

Dan Heng let out an amused breath of laughter. “I’m glad to hear that. I will pick you up at your house after lunch time then?”

“I can’t wait!”

The two of you basked in your shared excitement. You had assignments due, club meetings to prepare for, events to plan, yet the only thing you wanted to focus on right now was enjoying your time with Dan Heng. You wouldn’t let life pass you by and you wanted to take a chance with him. You hoped he felt similarly.

Dan Heng took out his daily agenda, flipping to Saturday and drawing a giant happy face over the box. In small writing, you saw him note down, Museum date with Y/N. :)

You giggled at the sight, touched that you were important enough to go on his sacred planner. He even booked the entire day for you instead of scheduling you in.

“I’m looking forward to our first date,” Dan Heng stated happily as he packed his pen away. “Let’s make it a good one.”

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #dan heng #hsr imagines #hsr fanfiction #dan heng imagines #hsr #hsr fluff #star rail #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #dan heng x you

412 notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 1 year

Text

New Year, New Challenges.

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy content warning ahead! - all the children are over 18!, cheating/publicized cheating, swearing, fights, separation of parents/divorce, alcohol and the consumption of, pregnancy mentions, abortions and medication relating to said topic, lots of tears, a few punches are thrown, throwing up, blood mentions, family therapy sessions, the dads are in over their heads, Charles is bamboozled as is Carlos and Pierre (all separate reasons), drunk teenagers, google translated French and Spanish.

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: so many of you guys have been asking for an update to daddy and me + three, so here it is! it's a jam packed on so hopefully this holds y’all over lmao - there is heavy content in this, please check warnings before reading.

Daddy & Me + Three Masterlist

---

Oliver’s 19th birthday was set to be an affair as dramatic as he was; booze, flair and fun was what the invite read when he showed you a few weeks back.

As most events started, all of the children rounded up at the Leclerc house and headed out from there, the 6 of them heading to dinner with Georgina and Adrian meeting them there before they head to the club for the night.

It was approaching 3:30 in the morning when the front door swung open - you, Charles and Carlos were all sitting in the kitchen. Sofia’s voice was coming from the foyer, the intensity matches the clicks of her heels on the tile floors.

Her father was waiting for her, the two of them would be on a flight heading to Spain in a few hours for her grandfather’s birthday. Hence why he was at yours, knowing that the kids would be getting in late and he figured it was best for her to freshen up by yours and head to the airport from there.

What he wasn’t expecting were the words coming out of her mouth; “fuck you Christopher! You’re just like my fucking father. I refuse to end up like my mother.”

The look of sheer mortification that covered her face when she saw her father in the kitchen was enough to make her sick to her stomach; the sudden taste of tequila creeps up the back of her throat before she runs out the backdoor.

You could see the horror on Carlos’s face, the heartbreak setting in but her words replaying in his head as he realized what she said to Christopher, the man in the doorway.

“You cheated on my daughter?!” Carlos shouts at him, already out of his seat. Charles was up right after him, putting himself between his son and his friend.

Charles looks at you, his hands against his friend’s shoulders to push him back. Christopher was already rattling on an explanation to Carlos as soberly as he could and you took that as your chance to go out and check on Sofia.

“Sof?” You called, stepping into the yard.

The soft sniffles came from the swing set in the corner of the yard; you could see a figure in the dark, the light on the back patio brightened the yard just enough to make her out. As you made your way over to her, you thought back to the time she was 6 years old and Christopher had broken her favourite doll. She was in fits until Charles glued it back together for her but the entire time, she hid outside on the swings.

“Darling,” you rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle her. She turned to you in tears, her makeup smudged as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

You can’t help but feel sorry for the girl, your heart breaking into pieces when you pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your chest as you rubbed her back.

You sat next to her on the empty swing. “What for?”

“For causing a scene, I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reached over to pat her hand. “You’ve got your father’s flare for dramatics.” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. The mention of her father caused the tears to start again and you’ve gotten up, hugging the girl once again.

“I didn’t know he was there.”

“I know, and it's okay. He knows you didn’t mean it to hurt him.” You looked down at the girl, your hands cupping her face; she looked so innocent and little. You can feel the pieces of your heart breaking as you look at her. “It's okay to be mad at your dad, given everything that’s happened.. and Christopher too.”

You weren’t even sure if he did cheat on her, you prayed to god that he didn’t but the last thing she needed at the moment was you taking his side over hers.

Sofia has had a hard few months; her father’s cheating was publicized all over the news in Spain and all over social media through the racing community, her parents’ picture-perfect marriage fell apart in front of her and she watched as her mother packed her bags, along with her sisters and moved back home to Spain. Sofia stayed in Monaco for school and her father stayed with her; despite the cheating, which she knew he did, she didn’t side with her mother.

She had always been Carlos’s favourite and she knew as much - it wasn’t fair to her for her to feel like she couldn't be mad at him because of that.

“I know I should hate him,” she sniffled, pulling away from you. “I can’t.. he’s my dad.”

“I know baby, I know.” You wiped her face with the inner side of your shirt. “Do you want to talk to him? I can ask him to come out here.”

“Could you?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the girl, kissing her forehead before walking back to the house.

The three men were all on guard, waiting for one of the three to swing first. It felt a bit odd to be walking into something like that but you cleared your throat when you walked through the back door.

“She wants to talk to you.” You say and Christopher takes a step towards you but you hold your hand out to stop him. “Not you,” you turn to Carlos, “you.”

In the moments it takes you to tell Carlos what Sofia said, Charles is pulling Christopher away to the living room. You follow them once the backdoor slides shut.

“You cheated on her?” You started on your son, “I cannot fucking believe you’d do that to her!”

“Mom, I didn’t-”

“Christopher, do not lie to me. Sofia is the best thing to happen to you, that girl has been in love with you since you were ten years old and you cheated on her? What quick fuck could possibly be worth breaking her heart?!”

“Maman!!” Christopher shouts, his French coming out when he was flustered. “I did not cheat on her!”

You looked at Charles, your husband silent as he listened to his son explain for the second time since he got home what had gone down that night. “Sofia was getting a drink and Georgina comes up to me-”

The mention of your son’s best friend puts you on edge; she’s a wonderful girl but you knew Sofia was wary of her and Christopher does stupid things when he’s drunk.

“She was pissed, drunk like there’s no tomorrow and she was asking about Adrain who was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t leave her like that, ma. I had to help her, so she's clinging to me and I'm practically holding her at this point and I drag her through the club to find Adrian. Sofia saw us and assumed something had happened between us; that we kissed. “

“And.. did you.. kiss?” You looked at him, hoping for a no.

Christopher shook his head, “ew no! I love Georgina like a sister, mom. I would never cross that line, even if I was drunk. That’s disgusting.”

You let out a breath of relief you weren’t even aware you were holding. Charles reaches out for you, his hand on your back when you pinched the bridge of your nose.

These kids will be the death of you.

“Chris, I love you but sometimes I wonder how you get yourself into these stupid situations.”

“What was I supposed to do, mom? Leave my best friend drunk and alone?”

“No, you did the right thing but you knew this is something that’s sensitive to Sof; give her time to cool off before you talk to her, let her fix things with her dad, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, sighing. You give his arm a squeeze, turning back to look at your husband and before you could speak, the front door is being swung open again.

Eloise is singing Elton John’s I'm still standing on the top of her lungs and terribly off key - something she picked up from her father- but it was beyond obvious that the girl was drunk.

Charles is rushing over to Anthony, the boy struggling to keep his girlfriend up as she was over his shoulder.

You knew your husband was as pissed off as Ellie was drunk but he needed to hold it together.

She’s his baby, she always will be even though she’s 18 now and old enough to drink; he knew she did it but he never expected her to come up drunk off her ass.

“What happened?” He asked, helping Anthony put her down. The boy looked like he was about to collapse as well - surely he was drunk too, just not as bad as Eloise was.

“Uncle Cha, I don’t even know man.” He ran a hand down his face, “she was beside me and next thing you knew, she was drunk and dancing with some girl she just met. I don’t know when she had time to take all of those shots.”

Charles looked back at you, giving you a glare as you pursed your lips and looked away; there were many evenings before all of you had children that Pierre and Charles would have to carry you out the club after you had drunk your body weight in liquor.

The girl dropped herself against her father when she realized he’s there. “Hi papa!” She grinned at him, goofily you might add.

His face twists when he smells the liquor on him but he still brushes the hair away from her face as he used to do when she was little. “Ma belle, what happened?”

She shrugs, “dunno daddiooooo.”

You bit back a chuckle, noticing a shadow coming from the front door - you really needed to lock your door.

“Oh tu es là, bien.” (oh there you are, good.) Pierre pats his son on the shoulder. You looked at your husband’s best friend, confused as to why he's at your house at 4 in the morning.

“Anto said they were coming here, I figured I'd come and see if you needed help with the kids,” he fills you in and Ellie turns in her father’s arms when she hears the familiar voice.

“Uncle Pierre!” She squeals, stumbling towards her boyfriend’s father.

The Frenchman catches the girl, glancing at you the same way your husband did minutes ago when she clings to him. “Quelqu'un s'est amusé ce soir, pas vous ? Je peux sentir l'alcool, ma chérie.” (Somebody had fun tonight, didn't you? I can smell the liquor, sweetheart.)

She giggled at her uncle, holding onto him. “Oui, enfin du bon fun.” (Yes, finally some good fun.)

Charles had looked more worried now than he did when he found the pregnancy test in her room. Pierre gives his friend a look, “I got her,” he tells him, picking up the girl.

He held her, carrying her like a princess as she used to say as a kid when Pierre took her to bed; some things never changed. Anthony followed his father upstairs while you comforted your husband over the changing of times. He went to check on Carlos and Sofia while you got some water and something for Ellie to eat to sober up.

Pierre puts the girl down on her bed, pulling her shoes off so she can get comfortable. Anthony replaces his father by her bedside while he goes to get the trash can.

Eloise reaches for her boyfriend’s hand, looking at him with eyes full of tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knuckles brushing over her soft cheek. She sniffles, holding back the tears.

“I wish I had kept it,” Eloise whispers to him and Anthony looks at the girl, confused. “Wish you kept what, amour?”

“The baby.”

Pierre was right outside her door but he froze, off to the side as he heard the words; he knew he should leave, he shouldn't be listening to their conversation but he couldn't pull himself away.

“What baby, Eloise?” Anthony’s eyes scan her face for some sort of an answer.

“Our baby.”

“We never had a baby.”

“We almost did.” She whispers to him, the tears rolling down her face.

“Wha- the test was negative, Ellie. You weren’t pregnant. You’re drunk, mon ange. Get some rest, you don’t know what you’re talk-”

“I was pregnant, Anthony.” Eloise stops him, forcing herself to sit up. “The test my dad found.. that was after.”

Anthony’s brain is running in overdrive, his heart pumping out of his chest as he takes in all the information she dropped on him. “After what?” He asks and she doesn’t answer.

He grabbed her hand, pulling slightly to get her focus back. “After what, Eloise?”

Her eyes met his ocean blue ones, the same eyes she could see her whole future in and now, it felt as if it was disappearing from her.

“Eloise, answer me.”

“After the abortion.”

Anthony sat there in silence; his head spinning as he tried to make sense of it. She was pregnant with his baby, their baby and she.. got rid of it?

It didn’t make sense.

Eloise loved him and Anthony loved her, she’d never do that.

The tears rolled down her fair cheeks, her hands gripping his wrists. “Anto.. please, say something.”

“You were pregnant, with our baby.” He finally brings himself to speak. She nods, unable to talk without breaking down further into tears. “Why.. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you tell anyone?”

“Gabe knew,” she whispers, “he took me.”

Anthony was seeing red at this point; partly toward Eloise for getting the abortion and not telling him but mostly towards his brother in law for taking her. Anthony loved Eloise with every fibre of his being, he'd give his life for hers if that meant she'd be happy; he would have dropped everything to raise a family with her.

HIs heart shattered into a million pieces over what could have been.

He didn’t stop to think how she must have felt to go through that alone when he stormed out the room. “Anthony, please!” She shouted after him, far too weak to get up.

Anthony sees his father by Eloise’s room when he rounds the corner to the stairs. Pierre gave his son an apologetic look, his own sense of distraught coming into play for both his son and his son’s girlfriend.

The man finds her in tears, her hand pressed to her chest as she tries to breathe. Pierre rushes to her side, holding her as he rubbed her back; “slow breaths, princess. In and out. I'm right here.”

Anthony’s heavy footsteps caused Charles to look into the hallway, about to shout for the boy but he was already out the door, the wooden door slamming shut.

“Jesus,” you huffed, looking from the kitchen. “What was that about?” You asked your husband, the man glanced at you, the door and then up the stairs.

You can see his train of thought in front of you and you’re behind him the moment he heads up the stairs. Charles is rushing into the room, sitting on the other side of Eloise, both her father and his best friend doting over the girl. You wanted to join them but you stayed by the end of the bed, figuring that she’d been a bit of space.

Judging by the look on her face and who just ran out the front door, you were almost certain you knew what had happened upstairs.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Charles rubbed her arm. She can't bring herself to speak, looking at you to fill in her father. Charles follows her glance and looks at you, “babe.. what’s-”

“Was it the..” you trailed off, and she nodded.

Pierre takes that as his sign to step out, giving you two some privacy with your daughter. “She had an abortion, Charles.”

The shock was written across your husband’s face but he said nothing, instead he held your daughter as she cried.

He was in shock; he didn’t even know she was pregnant and you knew? You never said anything to him but that was a conversation between you two best left for another time.

Charles goes to say something to you but there’s a loud shout coming from outside and you rush over to the window, checking to see what it was. The boys were shouting at each other, Gabriel on the floor with Anthony screaming at him.

You look back at your husband, yet another wordless exchange and you rush downstairs.

Outside, the scene unfolds; Anthony punches Gabriel square across the jaw when he sees him. “What the fuck?!” Oliver shouts, helping his boyfriend up.

“Why the fuck did you punch me?” Gabriel groaned, rubbing his jaw.

Anthony’s cheeks were covered in tears, the blind rage he was in fuelling his hatred for Gabriel at the moment. “How could you do that? To me? To your sister?” He shouted, going to hit Gabriel again.

Oliver looks between the men, realizing he's clearly missing a piece of the puzzle. “Babe, what did you do?” He asked, a bit afraid of the answer he was about to get.

Anthony answers for him; “he took her for an abortion.”

“Ellie was pregnant ?” Oliver turned to Gabriel, the surprise in his tone and on his face showed Anthony that it was in fact a secret.

Gabriel doesn’t even have the chance to answer when Anthony swings on him again. Gabriel reacts quickly, punching Anthony before he can get to him. Pierre was coming out when he heard the noise, as was Carlos from the back yard.

“Hey!” Pierre shouts, you watched from the front step unsure what to do. “Charles!” You shouted from your husband, “hurry!” You shouted again.

Christopher takes this as his chance to see what was happening, slipping past you when he sees the fight. You couldn’t even grab him, the younger twin rushing to defend his brother. Carlos and Pierre are trying to pull them apart, Sofia was shouting at them to stop and poor Oliver was sick, the boy hunched over in your bushes, throwing up what was consumed at the club. Charles comes down and rushes out when he sees them, you walk over to check on Oliver.

At some point after Oliver stops puking, the dads manage to separate the boys; Chris with his father, Gabriel with Carlos and Anthony with Pierre.

There’s two people walking up your driveway; Georgina and Adrian.

It was nearly 6am now, the sun starting to cast an orangish hue over Monaco and you needed everyone inside before the streets got busy again. You hold Oliver’s arm to keep him up, “alright that’s enough! Everyone in the fucking house!” You finally raised your voice despite all the chaos, sending everyone into the house.

The front door was locked after you walked in; a part of you wanted to put a no strays sign considering the amount of drama you’ve had over the last two hours.

With all the noise, Ellie had come down and ended up joining all of you in the living room. All 8 kids squished onto the couch and on the floor in front of it as you and the dads watched from the fireplace.

Per usual, they've left you to clean the mess - starting off the makeshift family therapy session.

“We're gonna solve this in order, okay? I don’t want to hear a word until you're spoken too.” The kids nod, all of them feeling some sense of shame, but they sat there quietly.

You turned to Anthony, “why’d you punch Gabriel?”

“Because of..” he trailed off, not wanting to air his dirty laundry to those who didn’t already know.

Those who knew, understood why he acted the way he did.

Eloise looked sick, like she was gonna throw up all over the rug and her brother noticed as much, Christopher wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, handing her his water bottle. Gabriel butts in, defending himself and his sister. “You can’t be mad, Anto. I only did what was asked of me, I never forced anything on her. She knew if she wanted to keep it, we would have helped her.”

Anthony looked over at his girlfriend, the sadness and regret mixed across her face.

She had her father’s fair complexion but never had you seen her look so pale.

“It’s true,” she says quietly, “Gabe didn’t force me to do anything; he sat with me, made sure I was what I really wanted to do and at the time, it was. I was 17 Anthony, you had just turned 18 - we weren’t ready for that.”

The room fell silent, the fathers behind you exchanged looks to try and fill each other quietly so they could understand what was happening.

“I assume Gabriel hit you back in self defence,” you glanced between Anthony and Gabriel before turning to Christopher, “but you, god Chris,” you groaned. “You make some stupid decisions sometimes; why'd you have to get involved?”

“He was punching my brother, mom. You can’t expect me not to defend him.”

Charles looks at you, giving your hand a squeeze. “Dites-leur de laisser tomber. Nous n'avons pas besoin de plus de combats.” (Tell them to let it go. We don't need more fighting.) He says to you quietly, you nod in agreement. Pierre got the just of it, nodding to the plan of action.

“Okay if no one had anything else to add, we're gonna drop this stupid ass fight. What’s happened is all said and done, you're all gonna drop it, yes?”

You look at your sons and your daughter’s boyfriend, the 3 of them answering with some version of yes. Oliver raises his hand, you nod in his direction waiting for him to speak.

“I just wanted to say,” he leans over Gabriel to look at Anthony, “that was a weak ass punch.”

Anthony wasn’t having it with his friend, reaching over Gabriel to smack him but Christopher pulls him back before he can get to him.

You huff, roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Thank you for that very helpful piece of information, Oli.”

Oliver grinned, giving you a thumbs up. “Always my pleasure, auntie.”

In this moment, you can’t help but see Max in Oliver; the wicked grin on his face was identical to his father’s. He was the spitting image of Max, ways and all.

Pierre snickers from behind you and you turn, glaring at the man. He raises his hands in defence, “I can’t help it, that was funny.” Anthony rolls his eyes at his father’s comment but sinks back into the couch.

The living room was quiet once again and before you get the chance to speak, Georgina starts. “I don’t know what I did to you, but why are you giving me the nastiest look on the planet ?” She purses her lips, looking over at Sofia.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you did.”

Christopher rests his hand on Sofia’s thigh, which she pushes away. “Sof, please. Don’t start.”

“No, please do.” Georgina tells her, sitting up a bit more. “What did I do to you?”

Sofia scoffs, rolling her eyes at Georgina’s lack of self awareness. “You being drunk doesn't excuse the fact that you kissed my boyfriend.”

Adrian turns to his girlfriend so fast that he’s given himself whiplash, rubbing his neck when he goes, “huh?”

“I did not kiss Chris! That’s so gross, I mean no offense Chris but like.. ew.” The disgust was evident on her face, looking at her best friend and his girlfriend. “Chris was helping me over to Adrian, I lost him in the club.”

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Sofia looks between the two friends.

Chris and Georgina both answer at the same time; “No!”

She felt a bit bad for the events that had occurred that evening; her screaming match with Christopher, the words she said to her father and about Georgina but nonetheless, she brushed away the feeling.

“Okay,” she nods, “sorry for assuming.” She says, getting up. “Papá, deberíamos irnos. No queremos perder nuestro vuelo.” (Dad, we should go. We don't want to miss our flight.)

Carlos nods, getting up from his spot by the fireplace. You turn to your friend, “¿Ustedes dos están bien?” (Are you two okay?)

He nods, speaking quietly. “Tenemos trabajo que hacer, pero estaremos bien.” (We've got work to do, but we'll be fine.) You smile, giving him a hug before you let him and Sofia walk out.

Christopher follows them to the door, giving Sofia a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, kissing his cheek. He nods, “it’s okay, babe. Have a safe flight, yeah? Text me when you land.”

“I will,” she smiles, giving him one more squeeze before stepping out. Carlos pats Chris on the shoulder on his way out.

Georgina was yawning, leaning on Adrian. “Can we just stay here?” He asked you, and you nod. “Of course sweetheart, you know you guys can stay here anytime.”

“I’ll make the guest room up for you two,” Charles says, getting up and walking down the hallway.

“I’ll help,” Georgina announces, getting up to follow uncle Charles as the kids deemed him many years ago, down the hallway.

Oliver gets up as well, helping Gabriel up. “We’re off to bed!” He calls, linking arms with his boyfriend as he holds a tissue to Gabriel's nose. Your oldest looks at you, giving you an apologetic look for the mess he’s made.

You walk over, kissing his cheek. “It's okay baby,” you held his jaw softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“I’ll help him get cleaned up,” Oliver tells you, nodding to the now dried blood on Gabriel’s face. You smile, giving Oliver’s arm a squeeze before they head upstairs.

You started clearing up the living room, tidying up the ruckus the boys made on their way in. Anthony gets up, walking over to Eloise. He kneels in front of his girlfriend who looks at him, the tears staining her pale cheeks.

“Amour,” he starts, holding her jaw. You and Adrian take that as a hint to leave, he helps you pick up a few things and take it to the kitchen. “I love you, no matter what, okay?” He tells her.

Eloise leans into her boyfriend, her forehead pressed to his. “Will you stay tonight?”

“Not tonight,” he whispers. “I just.. I need some space tonight.” Eloise nods, understanding that this was a lot of spring on him, she could beg him to stay but it’d do neither of them any good.

“I love you, always. I’ll be by tomorrow, okay?” He tells her when he stands.

She nods, “I love you, Anthony.” She looks up at her and he gives her a small smile, the sadness not able to fully hide behind it. Anthony leans down, giving her a kiss before walking away. She blinks away the tears, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. Pierre walks over to her, kissing the top of her head.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells her quietly, “you’ll be okay, I promise.” He smiles at the girl, giving her a hug. “I hope so.” She whispers and he nods, “you will be.”

She can hear Christopher and Anthony speaking in the hallway, eventually her brother comes into the living room and helps her up. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” He holds her to his side as they walk to the stairs.

“Can I stay with you?” She asks, not wanting to be alone tonight.

It reminded him of when they were younger and she’d swear she won’t get scared, begging to watch a horror movie with him and Gabriel. In the end, the three of them were squished into one bed because they were too scared to be alone.

Christopher nods, “of course.”

Adrian yawns, leaning on the counter as you filled the glasses with water. You slide two over to him, one for him and one for Georgina. “Did you tell your parents you were staying here? So they’re not looking for you?”

“Yeah, my dad knows we're here but I couldn’t get ahold of Georgina’s parents.”

“I’ll text George, don’t worry.” You tell him.

Adrian takes a sip of his water before getting off the stool. “Is it always this crazy here?”

You can’t help but laugh, “this is a regular Saturday for us, kid.” You walk him to the guest room, Charles was in the hallway getting extra pillows. “You get some sleep, it’s late.. or early? You know what I mean,” you give him a kiss on the temple before Charles hands him the pillows, the two of you leaving them to get some rest.

Charles grabs your hand, sighing as you two walk to the couch. The curtains were wide open, the sun had risen and the clock on the wall ticked with each passing second - 7:23am.

You looked over at him when you sat down, your husband’s head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can’t help but reach out and stroke his cheek - “remember when you wanted more kids?” You asked quietly, earning a laugh and a groan from him.

He opens his eyes, looking over at you with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for telling me no.”

Now you're laughing, leaning over to give him a kiss. “I love you, Charles.”

“I love you, y/n. I don’t know what I'd do without you.”

“Probably lose your mind?”

He drops his face into your shoulder, nodding. “Most definitely.”

---

taglist: @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14-blog-blog @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker

daddy & me + three taglist: @timetorace @diorleclerc @lickmeleclerc @elisaa-shelby @ohthemisssery @anthonykatebridgerton @memeorydotcom @cehilim @xeniarocks @idkiwantchocolatee @amsofftrack @satvrnite @livo676 @kyomihann @cedricdiggorysimpp @viyasstuff @enjoymyloves @dan3avacado @bigdiccricc @altheahuf @diorsheaven777 @judgemental-raven @sunf1owerrq @serendipity-2510 @itsrogersstuff @p4st3lst4rs @summerbolcerek @chxndlerr @shawnftjacob @f-hollands @avngrsfangirl @f1medlife @redbaby24 @akdcuniverse @tommosalmighty @littlefreaksatellite @jaemism @valkyrie418 @yourchicken10 @its-lilla-my-dudes @alwayschoppedtaco @felixthexlll @fafantesworld @dudelovesstuff @alwaysclassyeagle @starkeyellow @juliantheupsidedown @aurora-maria @writergiih @paty2110juarez @coldmuffinbanditshoe @mirandarroyo @cowboylikemoi @harrysdimples05 @yourefavdummy @hungryhungariann @cagoterie @sigynxlokiwifelover @majx00 @ghostleclerc @Steephanie07 @electricthunder3 @devilswaldorf @k1ng0fmyheart @omigodyall @sabrinaselina55 @leclerc13 @Hearts4maddison @yourtypicalslvt @karmabyfernando @nichmeddar

please update your user in the taglist to be tagged!

633 notes · View notes

shardsofmarxx · 7 months

Text

Lost | Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Criminal Minds Songfic based on/inspired by the song Lost by Dennis Van Aarssen. (This is a cover of the song "Lost" by Michael Bublé)

Summary: After a long case, Spencer decides to surprise you with a visit to your apartment. Once he arrives, he realizes that you've been struggling, and he does his best to comfort you.

Warnings: Talk of medication, and bipolar II. Reader is clearly going through a depressive episode.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: So sorry for the delay in getting a new fic out!! Between my busy college schedule, my mental health, and writers block, it took me wayyy too long to come up with a solid idea for a fic. I was randomly listening to this song one day and was suddenly hit with the inspiration for this, so I ran with it! I really hope you guys enjoy this one :)

Spencer rushed to his car, excited to see you after dealing with a long case in Florida for the past two weeks. He didn't tell you that the team finished the case because you two just hadn't talked much today. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized you two hadn't talked much at all these past two weeks, aside from casual good morning and goodnight messages. Regardless, he was sure you'd be happy to see him.

Spencer drove out of the parking garage, whistling some tunes and tapping his fingers as he winded down the road to your apartment. He got there relatively quickly, seeing as you only lived a 5 minute drive away from the BAU. He parked his car, got out, and eagerly headed up the stairs to your apartment.

Once he got to the door, he fished out the spare key you had given him when you two first started dating and unlocked the door, opening it very slowly so as not to startle you awake. He walked in, quietly taking his shoes off and placing his messenger bag by the door. He carefully walked through the hall and saw light coming from the living room, accompanied by the low sound of the TV. He stood in the doorway and found you asleep on the couch, watching Friends reruns. As he walked towards the couch, he noticed miscellaneous wrappers and bottles strewn around the floor. He furrowed his brows and diverted his path over to the kitchen, only to find the sink full of dishes and the trash slightly overflowing, along with takeout containers spread across the counter. He walked back into the living room and over to the couch, kneeling on the floor beside you. He looked over at you and moved some stray hair strands out of your face, being careful not to wake you. He saw your eyes were puffy and your cheeks were still a bit wet, which he deduced was from crying.

Spencer’s profiler brain quickly began putting everything together. He knew you had been struggling with bipolar II for a while, but things had been getting better. He made sure that you were seeing the best people in the field for your treatment. Your therapy sessions, along with the current medication you were on, seemed to be working fine, so he didn’t understand why this was happening. There was no way you would have hidden your symptoms that well from him; after all, he was a profiler. He sat there, racking his brain, trying to figure out what could’ve gone wrong.

Suddenly, it hit him.

Spencer quickly, but quietly, got up and walked to the bedroom. As he walked in, he turned on the lights and went straight to the nightstand on the right side of your bed. He quietly looked through the cabinets until he finally found your medication. He picked up the bottle and saw it was much fuller than it should be, confirming his suspicion.

You hadn’t been taking your medication since he left.

Spencer knew this feeling all too well from all the times his mother would refuse her medication. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him as he sighed and returned the bottle to the nightstand. He slowly trudged back to the couch and sat on the floor so that he was right by your face, completely enthralled by your beauty as you slept soundly.

As Spencer stared at you, his mind began to wander. He felt guilty for not realizing the implications of your distance from him over the past two weeks. Although he loved his job, he hated how busy it could get and how it could cause him to neglect the things he cared most about, like you. Most importantly, he felt guilty that he couldn't be there for you. He did his best to push all these thoughts out just as quickly as they came, telling himself that he should just focus on the present. He was here now, and he was going to do anything and everything he could for you. He sat by your side, gently caressing you until you finally awoke, stirring for a few moments until your eyes fluttered open.

“Spencer?” You croaked, your voice slightly raspy from sleep, “What are you doing here?”

“We landed a while ago, and I figured I’d come surprise you,” he replied softly, accompanied by a warm smile.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes for a few moments in an effort to wake yourself up. As you looked around, you realized the mess that was your apartment, and memories of how you'd been spending the past two weeks began to flood your brain. As this was happening, you came to the realization that Spencer has seen all this too, which means he’s definitely figured out that you’re off your meds. You immediately stand up, and Spencer does the same, a look of concern forming on his face as you lead him to the door.

"Well, Spence, this was a lovely surprise, but I have a busy day ahead of me. You really should get going,” I said, handing him his messenger bag. As you reached to open the door, he grabbed your wrist, his warm touch causing you to turn back around.

“Unfortunately for you, I can't be fooled that easily.” His voice trailed. “I'm not leaving you, darling.”

He grabbed the messenger bag from my hand and kneeled down to place it back by the door. He stood back up and placed his hands in yours, giving you a soft look with his warm, hazel eyes.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. All you could do was stare at the floor and mumble. “Nothing's going on, Spencer, really.”

“I doubt you would go off of your medication for nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Listen, I understand that dealing with this kind of stuff is hard, really hard, but you can't keep me in the dark forever. I'm your boyfriend, and I'm always going to be by your side, no matter how hard things get. We're a team, remember?” He paused for a moment and cupped my face, making sure you were looking him in the eyes for his next sentence. "You're not alone, honey. I promise.”

As his words echoed in the room, you felt tears form in your eyes. It had been so long since you had heard those words— so long since you had someone express such genuine care and concern. You were so used to the shame, disgust, and scolding from others in moments like these, yet he displayed none of that. It wasn't long before sobs began to creep out of your mouth, and you stuffed your face into Spencer’s chest. He just held you tightly in response, rubbing his open palm on my backside and whispering words of love and care in your ear as you wept.

Eventually, you lifted my face and met his eyes once more. He gave you a small smile as he gently wiped the tears off your cheek.

“I say we go over to the bedroom and talk; does that sound good?” He asked softly.

“I think that's a good idea,” you answered.

He held your hand tightly as he led you to the bedroom. When he entered, he lay down on the bed first, motioning with his hand to the empty space beside him. You laid down, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in and completely enveloping you in his warmth. You both laid there silently for a few minutes, basking in each other's company. You lost yourself in the sound of his gentle heartbeat for a bit before you remembered what you two were here to do. You took a small breath, lifted your head from his chest, and began to speak.

“I didn't like the way I felt when I was on my medication; nothing felt right once I started taking it. I felt like I was a robot or something.” you began. “One morning I woke up and had enough, so I stopped taking them, and I felt great; I felt alive... Well, at least I did for a bit. After a day or two, it felt like reality just came crashing down and-” You paused, feeling a sob creep up your throat once more. "Suddenly, any trace of happiness was gone, and I crashed. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, leave the house, or talk to anyone, especially you. I just felt empty.” You stopped for a couple more moments, glancing over at Spencer, before speaking again. “I was lost and didn’t know what to do, Spence, I’m so sorry…” You finished, your voice trailing.

Spencer never stopped comforting you as you spoke, raking his fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to speak up once you had finished.

“Unfortunately, that happens a lot to people when they're on medication. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there for you, honey,” he said, holding you tightly. “We can make an appointment with your psychiatrist to discuss changing your medication as well as looking for other treatments that might benefit you.” Spencer began rambling about various treatments for bipolar II that he had recently read about. Once he got word of your diagnosis, he poured countless hours of research into learning everything there was to know about it. He wanted to make sure that you received the best treatment possible, and, most importantly, he wanted to make you feel as understood as he could. After all, he knew all too well what it was like to not be understood by anyone around you.

He began rambling about things he had found in his most recent research on bipolar II, and you felt your heart swell with joy. Even though all you could really do was nod your head every once in a while and let out a few “mhms'' and “hmms” to assure him that you were listening, mainly because you didn't understand what he was talking about half of the time, you appreciated this more than he would ever know. After all, it was his way of making you feel loved and understood. Eventually, Spencer ran out of things to say and stopped talking. He turned his head down to look at yours, moving some stray strands of hair out of your face before he spoke once more.

“Y’know, because this case took so long, we got a 3-day weekend from Hotch,” he said softly. “I could help you clean up the apartment and keep you company these next few days, if you’d like.”

You met his gaze and smiled warmly at him. “I would love that, darling.”

Spencer smiled back at you and jumped up from the bed. You were barely able to get a word out before he bent over and picked you up, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding you securely against his chest.

“Spence, what’s gotten into you?!” you said, trying to stifle a giggle.

“C’mon, let’s go get breakfast,” he said, wearing a wide grin on his face as he carried you out of the bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any ideas for fics you want me to write in the future, feel free to send them in my ask box!

205 notes · View notes

altf4d3lete · 4 months

Text

EPISODE TWO

- “maybe it’s one of your classmates” erm or maybe it’s your fucking son and you just decided to ignore the fact that he could be a Hyde too because you didn’t want that to be true

- Weems trying so hard to protect the school. Love her even tho she’s controversial

- Bro wednesday is better than me bc if Rowan walked in smiling at me like that I would have actually lost my shit right then and there

- “Was it to gain attention” what a horrible therapist wtf

- Why does this therapy session feel like a fight omg

- EW TYLER. Sorry.

- Court ordered therapy how badly did you fuck Xavier up bro

- “I believe you” i wonder why bro you’re so manipulative

- ENID MY BBG 😭 “i will literally scratch my own eyes out” “i would pay money to see that” and enid just whips around with a huge smile THEYRE SO CUTE

- HUH??? BY EPISODE TWO THING IS GIVING ENID NECK MASSAGES THATS CRAZY

- Enid not being mean about Rowan being alive unlike SOMEONE (Xavier)

- Yoko looks so done im sobbing

- The gentle rejection from Wednesday and Enid taking it with no issue

- ENID’S WINK

- Is the choir only sirens

- THE FAINT BARKING AFTER SHE SINGS THE NOTE DOGS CAN HEAR

- “Ever shot a bow and arrow” “only on live targets” proceeds to mansplain how to shoot a bow he’s so annoying I can’t stand Xavier im sorry

- She HATES him it’s so funny

- EUGENEEEE

- poor guy aw she just left him there

- There’s just casually a severed hand running through the train station

- THE WAY SHE SLAMS XAVIER’S SPIDER IS SO FUNNY

- Xavier is so awkward sitting between his ex and his crush AND they’re beefing

- Sheriff Galpin is kinda annoying

- HELP ENID BEING SASSY BC THING IS MAD

- Not her coaching wednesday on thing

- “go apologize” “yes ma’am 😐😕”

- Imagine losing your family to a pink sparkly werewolf

- Awww her opening up to thing is so cute

- COUGHS her GREATEST FEAR is being responsible for something terrible and y’all r saying she’d be okay dating someone who was going to help genocide her classmates that’s crazy.

- “I can’t let that happen”

- Y’all she was genuinely concerned abt being the reason the school is in trouble

- Her crushing Eugene about Enid is crazy

- Tyler is so manipulative holy shit

- God she trusted Laurel that sucks so much

- Sigh she can relate to Laurel and that sucks so bad

- I feel so bad for her the one adult she felt like could understand her

- Damn Xavier is so argumentative towards Bianca wtf

- Wednesday was so mad about Bianca cheating to hurt Enid

- MY POOR BABY CRYING ENID :((

- SHES JOINING FOR ENID BE FR WEDNESDAY. YOURE MAD ABT BIANCA’S COMMENT TOWARDS ENID

- I love how they’re always attached at the hip

- WEDNESDAY PUT ON A CATSUIT FOR ENID BE FR EARS AND EVERYTHING

- Enid just not being afraid by Wednesday’s threats

- The way nearly getting beheaded by an axe in the poe cup is just normal

- Enid trusting Wednesday to get the flag

- YES GIRL BREAK THEIR BOAT ENID

- The way she’s way faster than Xavier and Ajax because they got there before and she’d practically caught up with them by the time they got to the crypt (she took a shortcut nvm)

- Goody my bbg 😞

- Xavier getting so mad abt losing is crazy bro literally fell off his seat

- AND YELLING “CHEATERS” HELP

- WWWD I love you enid

- YEA THING PUNCH THAT MF FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND

- ENID WAITING TO RUN TO THE FINISH LINE FOR WEDNESDAY TO HOLD THE FLAG TOO IM ILL

- AND THEM HOLDING IT TOGETHER

- ENID LITERALLY SIDE HUGGING AND SHAKING HER AND WEDNESDAY DOESNT CARE

- they’re so cute

- With how far wednesday went from the quad and how quick enid found her, enid probably immediately went looking for Wednesday after noticing she was missing

- The way she’s hugging Wednesdays arm is so cute

- And the way wednesday looks at enid awww

- WEEMS BEING MORTICIAS COPILOT AND WEDNESDAY BEING ENIDS THATS SO CUTE

- “Ah yes. Me, my gf, and her 5 foot tall trophy”

- Why did she write everything in caps except the “i”s

- The ol’ Addams family snap

- Damn bro got kidnapped that’s crazy

#wenclair #wednesday #netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #wednesday series

79 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 4 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 42: Big News

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Life, however, had other plans for you and it was a Monday afternoon, exactly four days before your trip to Los Angeles, that you received some life changing news.

You had just finished yet another treatment session with your therapist who informed you that you were ready to walk unaided again, albeit slowly. No high heels and no strenuous activities for at least another week, but progress, nonetheless.

Exiting the therapy room with a smile on your face, life seemed to be looking up and, without your crutches, you made your way to the day-clinic adjacent to the therapy canter on campus to see your friend Lucy.

You had been catching up with her every week for a coffee, following your sessions, but today, you were actually meeting her for something else. You had a medical appointment with her that day to get back on track with your general health.

Since the accident, you had been neglecting your iron levels for which, until then, you had been taking tablets every day. On top of that, you needed and wanted to get back on to some form of birth control, sensing Cillian's growing frustration of having to pull out whenever you were intimate with one another.

As a medical student yourself, you knew that this wasn't even an appropriate method of preventing pregnancy and whilst Cillian had fantastic self-control, you knew not to push your luck.

Having children was not on your radar right now. Your life was way too complicated to start a family , and there were still so many things you wanted to do and achieve. However, the idea of growing old with Cillian was a comforting thought, and the possibility of having a child together one day was not entirely off the table. One day, in about five years or so, this would be a possibility.

As you walked in the day-clinic, there was a line of people waiting to check-in and the atmosphere buzzed with activity as nurses hurriedly called out names and directed patients to the correct rooms.

Seating arrangements were limited, but there was a spare seat available by the window, not far from Lucy's consultancy room.

Fellow students and nurses you knew quickly came to greet you, some even lingering a moment longer just to ask about your recovery, expressing their concerns and support. You exchanged pleasantries and politely nodded along as they peppered you with questions you had grown accustomed to answering.

Finally, catching sight of your best friend Lucy, you greeted her excitedly and she quickly asked one of the nurses for your file before calling you into her consultancy room.

She gave you a warm hug as always before asking you to follow her.

"How is the treatment going, babe? I can see the crutches are gone!" exclaimed Lucy, a wide smile spreading across her face as she stepped back from the doorway.

"It's going good, and I won't be needing the crutches for the Academy Awards it seems," you told her , returning her smile with a bright one of your own.

"That's fantastic news, Y/N! I'm so fucking proud of you," Lucy said, beaming at you while she opened the medical cabinet and retrieved a few ampules and a syringe.

"And how is Cillian? Is he getting nervous yet?" Lucy asked as you sat next to her on an exam table in her consultation room.

"Oh, he's a mess. But he won't admit it," you replied, chuckling softly. "He's definitely nervous and hopeful," you continued, your tone sincere and genuine. "But I know he is going to win that Oscar. He has to win," you said emphatically, your voice filled with confidence and conviction.

Lucy nodded her head in agreement. "He's a shoo-in for the award this year. It's about damn time!" she exclaimed with a grin, injecting some humor into the situation.

You chuckled, still amazed by how different your life had become in just a few short months. "It still feels surreal to me. Like it hasn't fully sunk in yet," you continued, running your fingers along the barrel of the ampule Lucy had placed next to you before taking a deep breath and rolling up your sleeve. "You know, he asked me to move to the suburbs with him?" you said, smiling slightly as you looked up at Lucy, your eyes sparkling with hope and excitement.

Lucy's face lit up with surprise and excitement. "Oh my god, Y/N, that's amazing news! Are you going to do it?"

You nodded your head, your smile widening. "Yes. I mean, I love him and I think that I want to build a life with him. And I'm excited to see where that takes us," you answered Lucy enthusiastically, feeling your heart race at the thought of building a life with Cillian.

"That's fantastic, Y/N! I'm so happy for you," Lucy beamed, before moving on to discuss your medical issues. You went over your iron levels and Lucy took a few blood tests for you to be sent to the lab.

"We should have them back in a few days but you already know that, don't you?" she chuckled as she labelled the blood vials and placed them in the appropriate container.

"Yeah, I do," you replied, still grinning from ear to ear. "I actually can't wait to come back to work either, which will happen a week or so after we come back from LA," you exclaimed while Lucy examined your files.

"So, birth control was another thing you wanted to get sorted, right?" Lucy then asked with a smile and you nodded.

"Yeah, I was thinking the depo shot," you said, knowing that it was a reliable and convenient method.

"That's a practical choice, but what have you been using until now? There aren't any prescriptions on your file since the accident," Lucy inquired, her brows furrowed in concern as she flipped through your medical file.

You looked away, feeling a little embarrassed at the truth you were about to reveal.

"We have been using anything, just self-control measures really," you stammered out, cheeks heating as you avoided Lucy's gaze.

"Really Y/N?" Lucy laughed out loud. "Because, as a med student yourself, you should know better than that," she chided, but there was a playful tone in her voice.

"I know, I know and that's why I am here," you admitted, blushing at your previous response. "I just... things have been hectic and whilst we didn't have any accidents yet, I don't really want to push my luck," you confessed, feeling a surge of embarrassment at being so open about your sex life with Lucy, but knowing that she was your best friend and would always have your back.

Lucy let out a chuckle, understanding your predicament. "Go and pee in the cup then while I get the depo shot ready," she chuckled, handing you a sample cup and gesturing towards the bathroom.

"Why do you need a urine sample?" you asked , confusion flooding your visage as you walked towards the bathroom door.

"Well, before I give you the shot, I just want to rule out that you are not, -" Lucy began to say but you interrupted her.

"I am not pregnant, Lu!" you interrupted her, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "We have been careful, I promise," you explained, feeling slightly annoyed at the implication that you wouldn't know if you were pregnant or not.

Lucy held her hands up in a defensive gesture. "I know that, Y/N. But this is the protocol now, and it's better to rule out any possibilities," she told you, her voice gentle as she smiled reassuringly.

"Now hurry up and give me the sample," she said, her tone light and playful.

You rolled your eyes again, chuckling to yourself, but you did as she asked and grabbed a clean urine container from the rack.

You knew that she was just doing her job and were aware of some rare cases where women fell pregnant from intercourse even where their partner did not finish inside. It was uncommon, but not impossible.

Upon returning to the examination room and handing the sample to Lucy, she nodded and took the container from you. "Thanks, babe," she said, her voice warm and understanding.

She then put on some gloves and opened the container to check the sample, dipping a dip-stick into it, before turning to you again.

"Now tell me, have you found a house yet?" she asked as she began to prepare the injection.

"We have been looking at a few houses actually, yes," you replied, your voice filled with excitement. "It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but also really exciting," you continued, relishing in the thought of starting this new chapter in your life with Cillian.

"I bet it is!" Lucy exclaimed before turning back to the sample while you kept on talking about the house-hunting experience.

"There is one place, though, that I think we both really like, but god I think it is way too expensive," you said with a chuckle while Lucy turned silent and pale.

"Uh-huh," she simply murmured before putting another dip -stick into the sample.

"What, Lu?" you asked, seeing how your friend had become rather quiet and when she did not immediately respond and put yet another stick into your sample, you became concerned.

"Lucy?" you probed further.

"Y/N, I, uhm," she began to say, her voice barely audible as she moved the chair next to the exam bed and sat down. There was a serious expression on her face that unnerved you, and she took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I am so sorry, I don't know how to say this but, babe, you are pregnant," Lucy blurted out, her voice trembling as she revealed the results from your urine sample.

At first, you didn't understand what Lucy had just said and then, almost instinctually, your chin dropped.

"That can't be right, Lu. We had no accidents and the chances of falling pregnant are -," you stammered, unable to finish your sentence, your mind reeling from the news.

Lucy gave you a sympathetic look. "I am sorry, babe, but I just checked three times. You are definitely pregnant," she confirmed, her voice still trembling slightly.

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. The news was too much to process, and you sat there, frozen in shock.

"No, no, no," you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to wrap your mind around the unexpected turn of events.

Lucy reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm. "I know this isn't what you were expecting, but it's not the end of the world," she reassured you, her voice gentle. "There are options and you know that already," she said, not needing to remind you of your medical studies.

You nodded numbly, still not able to completely process the news. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions, but none of them felt clear or rational. You simply felt overwhelmed.

"Can you give me a script for mifeprestone?" you asked Lucy, your voice almost robotic as you tried to process the news. Your mind was still reeling, and you found it hard to believe that you were actually pregnant.

Lucy nodded. "Of course, I will write it up for you, but we need to get an ultrasound first before the gynecologist on call will sign off on it," she explained, her voice soft and soothing.

"Can we do it now? I can walk over to the maternity ward," you told Lucy, trying to stay calm as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Sure, I will come with you. I am due for my break anyway," Lucy agreed, her voice still gentle as she stood up and walked over to her computer to write the prescription and necessary referrals.

As you waited for Lucy to print out the script and referrals, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. You were surprised, scared, and a little disappointed, but you also knew that you had options. And you were grateful for that.

After Lucy handed you the script, you both walked over to the maternity ward in silence. It was a short walk, but it felt like an eternity.

You kept up a brisk pace, your hand clenched tight around the prescription slip. Lucy walked alongside you, her arm linked in yours, offering comfort and support.

Inside the maternity ward, you found yourself waiting in a crowded reception area. A nursing assistant called out names, directing patients to the various stations and clinics. You glanced around, your eyes scanning the crowd, feeling both overwhelmed and self-conscious.

Minutes ticked by, and you wondered if they would need to wait much longer before someone could assist you. But then, a woman with a warm smile approached you.

"Y/N, right?" she asked, her voice friendly and welcoming and you nodded, relieved that your turn had finally come.

The nurse led you both to a private consulting room where she quickly scanned your documents and checked your vitals. After a brief discussion about your issue, she nodded sagely, understandably nodding her head at your request.

"Alright Love, jump up on the table for me. I'm just going to take a quick scan, just to confirm the dates and then we can get one of the doctors to sign off on your prescription," the woman said and it took every ounce of energy and self-restraint you could muster not to cry.

You laid down as indicated and lifted up your jumper slightly to reveal your belly as the nurse carefully applied gel to the transducer and began swirling it around, taking measurements of the embryo growing inside you.

The images she projected onto the screen hung above the bed were black and white, but to you, they seemed more vivid and impactful than any colorful picture could ever be. You could clearly see the tiny developing limbs and torso, akin to a tiny alien who had somehow managed to taken root in your womb. The movements were minute and almost imperceptible, the size scarcely larger than you had expected.

"Holy shit," you said almost as at the same time as Lucy as you realized from seeing the pictures along that you were much further along than you had anticipated.

"I am sorry to ask, but when was your last period?" the nurse inquired gently, her voice not judgmental, but full of concern, as she cleaned the transducer.

"About four months ago, before the accident," you admitted, still staring intently at the images on the screen, your mind struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation. "But when I asked the surgeon about it during one of my follow up appointments, he said that not having a period for a while was normal, especially after an accident like mine," you continued, feeling an eerie sense of confusion settle over you.

The nurse nodded understandingly. "It's true that sometimes women experience temporary amenorrhoea after a traumatic incident or surgery, but it's unusual for it to last for this long," she explained gently. "You are about 19 weeks pregnant , honey," the nurse said softly, patting your hand gently.

You felt a sudden wave of emotions overtake you, a mixture of confusion, fear and disbelief. How had this happened? You had always been so careful, taking every precaution to avoid an unplanned pregnancy, especially before the accident. And yet, here you were, sitting on a cold exam table, staring at the ultrasound images of a baby that you had never expected to have.

"Are you sure there are no mistakes?" Lucy asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she squeezed your other hand, trying to offer you comfort. "I mean, she would have been pregnant before the accident, so why wasn't it picked up then?" Lucy asked, her voice a mix of confusion and concern while the nurse called in one of the head gynecologists who, later, explained that you could have fallen pregnant just before the accident, which is why it wasn't picked up in the tests. It was simply too early to tell.

But as the doctor went over the results in detail, explaining the situation to you both, one thing became abundantly clear: there could be no mistaking it. You were definitely pregnant.

The room seemed to spin around you. You couldn't believe it. You hadn't thought it was possible. You blinked hard, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill over. " I... I can't have a baby. Not now," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to hold it together. "I don't know if I can do this."

Lucy leaned in closer to you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Hey, it's going to be okay," she said soothingly. "And maybe it's a sign, babe. Maybe this was meant to be because, for a fetus to survive what your body went through in those last three or four months, is pretty remarkable," Lucy said, her voice gentle and soothing, her eyes filled with encouragement and hope.

You nodded, understanding where Lucy was coming from. And she was right, it was a miracle that the baby had survived the accident and the subsequent surgeries and treatments. But still, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

"With the medication and treatments I had those last few months, what are the chances of damage to the baby?" you asked, your voice now shaking as fear gripped your chest.

"The risk is minimal, with all the medications you have received being either A Class or B Class medicines, and the fetus looks well developed, so I wouldn't worry, but let's have a closer look at the organs for any abnormalities, " the doctor reassured you, smiling warmly before conducting a more detailed ultrasound, carefully examining every organ of the growing fetus.

Minutes passed, and Lucy kept squeezing your hand, maintaining eye contact to reassure you as you watched, in utter amazement and disbelief, as the doctor pointed out the different organs and limbs on the screen.

The little being inside you was kicking and moving, a testimony to its vibrant health and development.

Finally, the doctor nodded and turned off the machine. "All is well in there, and the baby is healthy and growing perfectly," he then finally said, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you, even though you were by no means ready for this.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" you asked almost as if you were in a trance , still not quite able to comprehend the enormity of the news.

The doctor nodded and gestured to the ultrasound screen. "Well, this area here would indicate that your baby is a boy," he said softly, pointing to a slightly wider section in the grainy, black and white picture.

You kept staring at the ultrasound screen, unable to tear your gaze away from the small, wriggling figure. "A boy," you murmured softly, almost to yourself before breaking out in tears.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of fear and uncertainty in that moment.

You had never dreamt of becoming a mother, at least not this soon, not under these circumstances. And although you knew that you could rely on Cillian to support you, you were still hesitant to bring a child into the world so abruptly.

With everything that was going on in your lives, the timing was absolutely terrible and you were unsure whether or not motherhood would break you. You weren't ready for this and not to mention the fact that your relationship was still very new and complicated.

You had no idea how you would explain this to Cillian and the thought of telling him made you sick to your stomach.

NOTE: Yes I know I am predictable. I cannot help myself! I love writing pregnancies into my fics, so no judgment please.

Tags:

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x y/n

99 notes · View notes