#and then someone will offer me something even stronger and I’m trying to not let it get bad

[ghostickle]

Gotta stop thinking “just once won’t hurt” cause it in fact will

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team��that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[misserabella]

two geniuses (a vacancy gone wrong)

enemies to lovers;; spencer reid x fem reader!

masterlist!

sypnosis;you get a couple of days off, so you decide to spend them on a california hotel. except things start to go wrong when you meet spencer there. and later on, when you find yourself with cuffs around your wrists. there might be a killer whose obsession revolves around you. and he seems to have focused on reid as well. heads will start to roll!

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, talk of murder, graphic scenes, weapons, blood, alcohol consumption, tension, lots of fighting and bickering, lots of tension, teasing, flirting, pool scene!!!!!, reader gets drunk and flirts with spencer, spencer gets jealous? over another guy, spencer is confused, sharing one bed!!, murder of a secondary character, stalking, towards reader, secret murder admirer obsessed with reader… angst, fluff and smut in upcoming chapters!!!

you took a deep breath, a smile making your soft lips curl as the salty air hit your skin along with the warmth of california.

hotch had given you and the team a couple of days to relax. the last couple of weeks had been very intense with cases and lots of jet flights. all of you deserved a little time to wind down.

and so you’d chosen to gift yourself a four day vacancy on a 5 star beach hotel.

you were enjoying the feeling of the sun tanning your skin, the company of a good book and the cold comforting feeling of a margarita going down your throat when you crashed against something solid, your liquor splashing itself down your chest, making your exposed —claded in bikini— skin sticky.

but that wasn’t the worst of the situation. it was who you’d crashed against.

“you must be fucking kidding me…” you muttered to yourself. what the hell was he doing here?

he seemed as surprised and pleased to see you as you were to see him. your name fell from his lips in a breath.

“fuck.” you swore, trying to get the drink out of your skin. “there goes my fucking drink.” you sighed.

“nice to see you too.” he scoffed, trying to not look down at your exposed body.

you rolled your eyes. “what the hell are you doing here, reid? came to make my life a misery even on vacancy?”

“you wish. i’m actually here for my vacancy as well. just my luck to bump into you.” he explained, seeming as uncomfortable for having shared traveling destination with you as you were.

you sighed. “look. you don’t like me, i don’t like you. so let’s just… pretend we don’t know each other, hm?” you offered. “just want a couple of days away from everything i know.”

he nodded. “yeah, okay.” and just as he accepted, someone else came to find you.

“hey… is everything alright?” your eyes met matt, a guy you’d met on the pool of the hotel. spencer frowned at the unknown face, by the way he talked to you and touched your shoulder he seemed close. maybe a fling?

“yeah, sorry to keep you waiting, just… my drink.” you smiled at him, and something about it made spencer’s stomach churn. he’d never seen you smile. well, you’d never smiled at him like that. but he should understand that. your relationship wasn’t the best.

“oh. don’t worry, i’ll get you another one, hm?” he said, and you nodded. “you two know each other?” he inquired, and just as spencer was about to explain that you worked together you stepped in and shook your head.

“no. i’ve never seen him before.” the man nodded, and you took his hand. “let’s go.”

spencer watched you walk away with matt, his irritation growing stronger. he clenched his jaw so hard it aches, trying to compose himself. he couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, but he knew he had to get a hold of his emotions.

deep down, something screamed at him something that he already knew, but he dismissed it as simple hatred for your presence on his well needed vacation.

it seemed to be that his holiday wasn’t off to a great start.

-

he should be able to look away. but he couldn’t.

the hotel club was pretty full, but once spencer spotted you dancing with matt on the dance floor he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. he couldn’t help the sourness washing over him, his heart tightening at the sight of someone else making you laugh. his hazel eyes follow your every move, his attention completely focused on you. he tries to think of quantum theories, trying to lighten up his mood but it doesn’t help.

over the last few weeks he’d tried to stop thinking about that night with lila. he’d never thought that the sight of a gun pointing to your head would scared him so badly, but it had terrified him.

his head had flown towards you. there was no more lila. just you. he could still remember your pissed off face when the unsub had caught you. if only you knew the truth…

he watched as matt put his hands on your hips, and with a thick gulp, faced the bar, ordering a strong drink in an attempt to drown out his thoughts.

spencer can't help but watch you and Matt from his seat at the bar. he can see you drinking heavily, downing drink after drink as you dance your mind away. he worries about the amount of alcohol running through your veins, and in the back of his mind he tries to ignore the fact that this man could possibly be a killer.

although his worries disappear when matt gets a call.

he seems worried, and with a quick chat he leaves you. you seem disappointed, and made your way out of the club.

…

next time he sees you, it’s when he’s going back to his room. you’re in the pool, fully dressed, floating and looking at the starry sky. you look like a painting, and he doesn’t realize he had been staring until you notice him.

“reiiiiid” you sung out his name. “what are you doing here?” you giggled, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“i should be asking that question. are you drunk?” he inquired. he looked good. with a white sheer shirt —which sleeves were rolled up his arms—, short linen cream pants and a pair of brown shoes. his hair fell on soft curls around his face. you wondered if they’d feel as silky as your mind made you believe.

“maybe… why?” you turned around, water spilling down your chest.

“you know how easy it is to drown while intoxicated?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “alcohol increases the risk of drowning by impairing judgement, reducing coordination, and delaying reaction time.”

“yeah, yeah… always the same genius, huh? you don’t know how to have fun!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

“i know how to have fun.” he retorted, a soft frown tugging from his perfect brows. something inside you tugged in the need to smooth it out with your fingertips.

you hummed, ignoring his words. “get in.”

“what?” he incredulously spat.

“the water feels amazing, spencer, grab a suit and get in.” you repeated, and he shook his head, his tone changing.

“i’m not gonna grab a suit or get in.”

“but why? we’re on vacation! isn’t that what people on vacation are supposed to do?”

“yeah well i’d prefer it if you didn’t die, not want gideon or hotch coming down on me for it .” he muttered, to what you once again were rolled your eyes. “can you get out of the pool? please?”

you groaned. “fine…”

you got under the water once again, swimming your way towards the edge of the pool and the profiler, who expectantly waited for you.

“can you at least help me get out?” you asked, offering him your hand, he sighed, slightly scrouching down to take your hand, struggling when you didn’t seem to be helping him to get out of the pool, rather, you seemed to be pulling from him.

“what are you…?”he tried, but before he knew it, the cold water was engulfing him, soaking his clothes and body.

once his head breached the edge of the water he heard your laughter, his honey hair all over his face as he pushed it back with his hands.

“ha, ha. very funny. laugh it up, y/n.”

“oh my god, you should have seen your face!!” you chuckled, hugging your stomach due to how hard you were laughing.

“god, i would drown you…” he sent you daggers with his eyes, muttering under his breath curses as he looked at his state.

“woah spence, that’s a weird kink you’ve got. thought about talking it with a therapist?” you mocked him, using his own words to stab him.

he let out a single dry chuckle “you’re real funny tonight, huh?”

“i always am funny, you’re just too stuck up to notice.” you shrugged your shoulders, nearing him. your eyes on his exposed chest, now that the sheer shirt had almost become invisible due to the water. you’d never expected him to look like that… his chest was formed, with great wide muscular shoulders and defined abs…

“stuck up?” he scoffed.

“you don’t relax. ever.” you nodded. “you never enjoy yourself.” you looked up at him as you stood on the pool. suddenly, he seemed so tall…

“yeah?” he inquired, his eyes on yours, his muscles tensing when your hands fell on his shoulders.

“yeah…”you bit down on your bottom lip. “just look at you, so worried i might drown. you’re so cute.”

spencer is caught off guard by your sudden comment, his expression softening for a moment. he feels a flutter in his stomach, but he quickly tries to push it aside.

"excuse me? what did you just say?"

he can't help but be taken aback by your sudden flirtatiousness, his heart rate picking up slightly as he processes your words.

“i said… that you’re cute spencer. didn’t know you cared so much about me.” you chuckled, your arms surrounding his neck.

his eyes widen, feeling a mixture of surprise and something else he can't quite identify. he can feel your body press against his, and his mind starts to race with conflicting emotions.

you’re warm. so warm… and your skin is soft.

his heart is pounding as he stares at you, his mind struggling to process what's happening. After a few moments of silence, he finally speaks.

"of course I care... i wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you."

“you’re just worried about hotch and gideon being pissed if i died.” you tease and spencer can't help but chuckle at your comment, shaking his head slightly. he's surprised by how playful you're being in this situation, but at the same time he feels a warmth spreading through his chest as he hears your words.

"yeah, I have a feeling they wouldn't be thrilled if I had let anything happen to you." he says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“hmm, your smile” you hum, looking at it.

he frowns, his lips tightening in a thin line.

"i didn't realize my smile was such a big deal," he says, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“no, it’s just… i’ve never seen it before.” you mutter.

“i guess i don’t smile ever so often.”

“no. you don’t. you’re usually all frowns around me.” you chuckle.

“you and your awesome personality don’t help me smile.” you scoff.

“well it’s pretty…, your smile i mean.”

“you’re drunk.” he answers and you roll your eyes.

“i am. but i know a pretty boy when i see one, reid.”

spencer feels a heat rising to his cheeks as he hears your compliment. he's caught off guard by how casually you said it, like it's a simple fact. like statistics, like victimology. and it strikes him.

"you think I'm pretty?" he asks, his voice slightly teasing as he quirks an eyebrow.

you hum, pulling him closer and down into the now warm water.

“what are you doing?” he asks, frowning. confused. everything is confusing him.

“nothing…”your fingers dug on his wet locks, brushing them away from his face, his puppy hazel eyes digging into yours.

“you’re definitely doing something.” he whispered, trying his best to not let show the shiver that went down his spine when your nails scratched his nape.

“want me to stop?” you breathed out, almost choking when his hands held you by your waist, his fingers digging on your hips.

no.

spencer's heart races as he hears your question. he knows he should say yes, that he should step away and put some distance between you.

but instead he find himself leaning into your touch, his eyes locked onto yours. he feels like he’s the intoxicated one. like he’s drunk off of his mind. ‘cause somehow, this close distance with you doesn’t feel bad. quite the opposite. he likes it. and that scared him to death.

his voice a low, husky murmur. “we should get you to bed.” he advised, to what you smiled, falling into his chest.

“i’m not tired.” you breathed onto his neck, making his skin grow on goosebumps.

“god you’re absolutely gone, aren’t you? you’re gonna hate me so bad tomorrow…”

“probably…” you snickered.

you stare up at him, one of your hands on his chest as his hazel eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips. you bit down on your bottom one the moment your own eyes fell to his mouth, the image of lila kissing him weeks ago replaying in your mind. you wondered how it would feel like, how his lips would feel like, would they be soft? would they feel as plush as they look? how would he kiss you? would he be sweet? would he be rough and mean?

the two of you seemed to near the other, got closer, like two magnets being pulled to each other.

your breaths mingled, and his hold on your waist tightened. “we shouldn’t.” he muttered, his eyes slightly fluttering at the scratching on his scalp.

“why?” you inquired, tilting your head to the side to get closer. he seemed to be fighting with himself. internally. to push you away? to not devour you?

but deep inside, spencer knew the truth. he knew the reason for his hatred towards you. the murdering need to keep away from you, when all his body begged for was to keep you close. he wasn’t ready to accept it yet, though. he wasn’t ready to let himself know that he wanted you. and so he denied himself of the pleasure that would be holding you closer.

“‘cause you hate me, and you’re drunk. you probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow.” he explained. always the gentleman…

“does that mean you would kiss if i weren’t drunk?” you inquired him, catching the moment his breath hitched. his mouth fell open, unable to form words, and you smiled. devilishly. he should have seen it coming, but he was so entranced that by the time he had caught on you were already drowning him.

“got you!” you laughed, seeing the pissed of expression he sent you. he was seething. “god reid, didn’t know you had the hots for me!” you teasingly pinched him to what he groaned, taking you by your hips and getting you on his shoulder as if you weighted nothing, making you shriek as he walked towards the stairs out of the pool. he was gonna carry you to your room if he needed to.

“you’re getting in bed, now.” he spat, to what you couldn’t help but tease him one more time with a…

“in yours?”

-

“fuck! come on!” you cursed as the door locked you out once again. “it’s not fucking working!” you’ve been trying to get into your room for the last 5 minutes. it wasn’t working.

“here, let me try.” spencer offered you his hand, and you handed him your card, only for his try to be negated again. “there must be some kind of problem with the key.”

“i’ll guess i’ll have to go to reception and get it fixed.” you slurred, taking the key.

“that’s not gonna happen. it’s closed.” spencer sighed, to what you frowned.

“closed? why?”

“some technical problems with the computers, didn’t you see the sign this afternoon after lunch?” you groaned.

“and what am i supposed to do now? sleep on the corridor?” silence filled the space you two

share, until spencer’s lips parted.

“you could stay in my room.” he said. “i mean it’s only a few doors down. tomorrow morning you could get your key fixed. and i could lend you some clothes to change to, since you know, yours are soaked…” he started to ramble.

“share room with you? thought you would rather die.” he rolled his eyes.

“i mean it’s not exactly my dream, but i can’t leave you here all alone.” you cooed.

“what a gentleman. who knew you’d have it in you, huh?” he scoffed.

“i’m not doing it for you, i’m doing it for

gideon.” you hummed, watching him take out his key and start walking towards his door, guiding you and opening it for you.

his room was the same as yours; small, one bed, one bathroom. you hadn’t thought about the fact that you would have to share a bed with him. you smirked, wanting to tease him further. get on his nerves.

“you sure it’s not cause you want me in your bed, reid?” you laughed, and he looked at you.

“you get drunk and your IQ lowers, huh?” he retorted, grabbing a pair of new and untouched boxers, shorts and a shirt for you to change onto.

“i’m smarter than you.” you scoffed, legs wobbly.

he hummed, giving you the clothes. “here. change into this, i’ll put your wet clothes out to

dry so tomorrow- woah! what are you doing?!” he quickly covered his eyes, looking away as you started to pull from your tank top, getting rid of it. you looked at him as if he were dumb.

“changing?” he heard you unbuckling your shorts.

“well, there’s the bathroom for that!” he panicked, his cheeks warming up when he caught a glance at the exposed skin of your stomach and cleavage.

“you think i can make it there without falling? you have high hopes for me.” you slurred, laughing.

“god.” he quickly got a change of clothes and left for the restroom, his cheeks crimson red and his breathing heavy. it was easy to hate you, easier than actually thinking about what you really got out of him. how close you two stood in the pool, the look in your eyes, your teasing, your undressing… “get a hold of yourself, reid.”

remember. she’s a pain in the ass. she drives you crazy.

she drives you crazy, she drives you crazy, she drives you crazy…

once changed in his pajamas, he came out, finding you already changed and sitting on his bed.

“i already put the clothes to dry.” you muttered and he nodded.

he silently stared at you, at your still damp hair, clear skin, beautiful eyes… at your body clad in his clothes, at how big his white button shirt was on you, how it reached your thighs, how…

“aren’t you gonna get in?” you ask him, snapping him out of his mind. it wasn’t as if he was engraving the image into his eidetic memory…

“oh, yeah.” he quickly moved, surrounding the bed to get on the other side as you ruffled with the sheets, covering your exposed legs.

the two of you laid there in complete silence. he had his hands on his stomach. he laid like a mummy, what made you chuckle.

“well this is absolutely not awkward.” you muttered and he sighed.

“well excuse me for not being thrilled for having you in my bed.” you chuckled. “you’re not exactly my dream roommate.”

“you wish i were.” you retorted and he scoffed.

“oh yeah, totally. you caught me.” he sarcastically said and you laughed. “anyways, shouldn’t you be sleeping? by the time of alcohol you’ve ingested you should be passed out cold.”

“you underestimate me, reid.”

“i’ve noticed…” he muttered.

“i’ll let you sleep now, i know geniuses need their sleep hours to function properly. or at least men, but even with that they seem to

not really achieve it.” he chuckled.

“thanks?”

“you’re welcome, agent.”

“it’s doctor.” he corrected and you rolled your eyes, moving onto your side to give him your back.

“whatever. later.” you said your good nights and he hummed, moving just like you and closing his eyes.

ten minutes later the two of you were passed out.

-

it’s the next morning and your head is pounding as you wake up. reid is already up, reading on the room’s desk. of course. very of him.

memories or last night fill your mind and you curse. what the hell were you thinking? maybe you weren’t. you were drunk. that had to be it.

“well if it isn’t the sleeping beast.” he says and you groan, taking your temples.

“isn’t it supposed to be the sleeping beauty?” you inquire.

“i said what i said.” you roll your eyes. of course. “nice hangover right?”

“yeah and your voice surely doesn’t make it any better.” he chuckles, his eyes still on the pages.

“your clothes are dry, left them on the bed.” he announced, and that’s when you see them. you took them, muttering a ‘thanks’ before going to the bathroom and change in between curses and groans that only seemed to amuse more the genius on the other part of the room.

“not funny!” you tell when you can practically hear his smile.

“it actually is. funnier than actually seeing you drown yesterday.” you roll your eyes, opening the door of his room to leave. he quickly stands, following you. “where are you going?”

you groan, your head hurting so bad it was almost like a migraine.

“why do you care?”

“well actually, hotch called and he told me to…” his words died in his mouth when the two of you came face to face with police officers.

“y/n y/l/n?” one of them inquired and you nodded, frowning when one of them harshly manhandled you and pushed you against the wall.

“hey! what the fuck? what are you doing?!” you tried to fought, but he was handcuffing you as the other agent recited your rights.

“you’re under custody for the murder of matthew jackson.”

“reid?” i looked at him with panic in my eyes. he was in shock.

“no, you must have it wrong. we’re fbi agents.” he tried to stop them but they were taking you away.

“yeah, and i’m mary poppins.” the agent scoffed.

“reid!” i yelled for him as they pulled you away.

“i’ll talk to hotch! i’ll find you!” he promised, and you only hoped he would keep it.

…

“i’m not talking until my teams gets here. deal with it.”

“we’ve already called them, they are on their way.”the officer disregarded your comment.

“only part of the body was found. now tell me.” the interrogator stared you down. “where’s. the. head.” you groaned.

“oh, i don’t know! i must have dropped it on my way here, come on!” you sarcastically said. he slammed his hands on the table to which you were cuffed up.

“where’s the head!?”

you slammed your hands back. “if you don’t shut up your head will be rolling next!!” you yelled back. you were irritated. your head was pounding, and now you were cuffed being interrogated for a crime you had not committed first thing in the morning! you hadn’t even had your coffee for gods sake. he gave you a glare. “look. i didn’t do shit. i’m not the killer.”

“we found the body in your room.”

“i wasn’t in my room yesterday. i left it at 6pm and spent the night out.”

“lies!”

“actually, it’s the truth.” your eyes met those hazel ones as spencer made his way into the interrogation room, being followed by hotch.

“doctor reid and agent hotchner. fbi.” they showed their badges. “you’re interrogating one of the members of my team about a crime she has no matter in.” you sighed in relief when you saw them, spencer making quick work of taking off his suit’s jacket to give it to you, since your tank top exposed you.

something about it made you feel calmer, safer. also surprised you. he wasn’t kind to you, at least not if that meant nothing in return. maybe last night events had changed something.

“if she doesn’t have an alibi i’m on the right to keep her here as long as i see fit.” the officer challenged the brunette man.

“she has an alibi. i can prove she wasn’t in his room on the time of the death.” reid said and the officer looked at him.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah. i can, because she spent the night with me…in my room.”

silence fell into the room, and you coughed, clearing your throat.

“now. will you release my agent?” hotch recomposed himself and the officer sighed shaking his head and taking the keys to your handcuffs out.

once released you got up from your seat, putting on spencer’s jacket to cover your semi-exposed chest. your holiday clothes were not the best to work on the field, even less to get arrested on.

“you okay?” hotch checked up on you, and you nodded, massaging your temple.

“yeah, besides the fact that if had you hadn’t shown up now we would have had a second case…” you joked, making him chuckle as you three get out of the interrogation room, meeting with the rest of the team.

derek whistles when he sees you. “well if it isn’t the hottest serial killer in the USA!” you flip him the bird. “nice to see you too sweetheart.”

“here.” jj handed you pain killers and a bottle

or water, what made you almost cry in relief.

“oh thank god, my head is about to split open.” you said while taking them, making quick work of swallowing a pair.

“agent hotchner, thank you for coming.” one of the detectives of the police station suddenly approached you and your group. “and these must be agent morgan, gideon, prentiss, jareau and doctor reid.” he offered them a handshake. “doctor reid, not agent. agent y/n was very specific about that when she asked for all of you.” spencer frowned, tilting his head with a confused but amused smile as he shook his hand. you rolled your eyes when his attention shifted towards you, seeing his eyebrows raise. “sorry for my agents’s actions. you know… protocol.”

“we understand it, sir. what can you tell us about the case?”

“ ‘doctor reid?’ “ he teased you, leaning onto you and you pushed him away.

“whatever reid, don’t think this means i like you. ‘cause i don’t.” he hummed, that fucking smirk still plastered on his face.

“we share bed one night and you’re already falling for me, y/n?” i scoff.

“you wish, reid. now wipe that smirk out of your face before i rip it off.” he chuckled.

“you sure you don’t wanna rip my head off instead?” he jokes and you give him a dirty look. “what? it’s funny.”

“excuse me?” all of you turn at the sound of an unknown voice. it’s a post man, holding a box in between his hands. “package for y/n y/l/n?” you frown. the whole team seemed to frown. how could somebody know you would be here?

“uhm yes, that’s me.” you stepped forward, and the post man nodded, taking out a digital pad.

“need you to sign this.” you nodded, approaching him, taking the box. it was heavy, ‘fragile’ printed on its sides. “a letter came with it.” he explained giving you the envelop as well. he took off just as fast as he got what he wanted, leaving you with it.

“what is it?” emily inquired and you shrugged, leaving it on a table of the office.

“no idea.” you answer while cutting the tape open. your heart falls to your stomach when you uncover what hid behind the cardboard. “oh god…” dead well known eyes stare right into your soul, a note written in blood calls your name. “it’s matt…” you feel like getting sick.

you step away and the team takes a look. “well, now we know where the head is…” morgan said, and jj gives him that look.

“yeah, seems like we have and admirer too…” gideon pointed out as spencer put on a pair of gloves and took the note. he recognized the victim as the boy you’d met at the hotel.

“‘loosing my head for you.’” he read out loud. “seems like it was written in blood too.”

“there’s also a cassette, guys.” emily points out, taking it out of the box, careful to not go near the bloody head. there’s a sticker on it, black ink that begs a ‘play me’. hotch takes it off the hand of the brunette and pulses the play button.

a distorted voice fills your ears. “i know… i know… you might don’t like this side about me, y/n. but i couldn’t stand still while that creep took glances at what belongs to me! you’ve gotta understand! i love you. i just want the best for you. to protect you…” his voice although unrecognizable seemed soft, as if a lover tried to make his other half understand the why behind this actions. “if you don’t believe me, take a look inside the letter that came with the box. see you soon, love.”

your eyes fell on the letter, your hands following suit, ripping it open, pictures falling from its inside and spreading themselves on top of the desk. it were pictures of you, in your bikini, in your room, changing clothes… you took them in between your fingers.

“he was stalking you?” emily inquired.

“seems like it.” morgan chirped in. “wait. is that spencer?” he stopped you, and you frowned, taking the picture. it was a photo of the two of you, him carrying you on his shoulder across the pool court and towards your room.

“there’s something written on the back…” you mutter, turning it around, ink scattered along the white. ‘WHO’S HE?’

“seems like the holidays are over.” hotch said, and you sighed.

definitely over.

-

[moondirti]

pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

[mellowsaturns]

someone’s calling my name (and it sounds like you)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky finds himself on the brink of unconsciousness and then you show up which causes him to reveal his true feelings

warnings: hurt!bucky, sad!reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, description of injuries, whump-ish, pining, confessions, typical self-deprecating bucky behaviour

wc: 2.1k

- - - 

“Why isn’t the serum working!?” you scream, pressing onto Bucky’s wound as hard as you can.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was Bucky’s last day on his week-long mission. He was supposed to enter the abandoned bunker to scope for any remaining files on biohazardous weapons that the enemy might still have laying around to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands.

But when you and Nat went to pick him up at the rendezvous spot, he was perched against a tree—bloodied and limp. He couldn’t even make it into the cabin that was only a few feet away.

And when you ran over, the sight of him made your stomach drop.

“The wounds are too deep. The serum can’t heal the tissues in time,” Nat yells from the cockpit of the Quinjet. “He needs medical attention. I’ve already contacted Tony to have the team ready.”

Bucky squirms underneath you, eyes still closed as painful grunts escape his lips.

You curse and fight back tears, hands turning more and more crimson each minute. “Nat,” you whimper, “please fly faster.”

“I’m trying my best,” she replies.

You rip a piece of cloth nearby and try your best to bandage his abdomen as tight as possible to slow the bleeding. He lets out a loud agonizing noise this time, one that raises every single hair on your body.

“It’s going to be alright, okay? We’re almost at the Compound,” you assure.

“Got ambushed,” he manages to say through the pain.

You had a feeling he did. “I know.” You bring one of your hands to squeeze his, “How are you feeling?”

There’s a nasty bruise forming around his eye, a busted lip, ghastly cuts splitting the leather of his stealth suit and most notably, the bullet wound in his abdomen that’s causing most of the blood loss. You can already tell by the look on his face that he’s in so much pain—which says a lot since he’s enhanced—so it’s a redundant question, really. But anything to keep his stream of consciousness going.

“Hurts,” he groans. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” you say, being as optimistic as possible. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

The slow and gentle fluttering of his lashes reminds you of the first snow.

You take a deep breath before mustering a smile. “Hey Bucky.”

Bucky stares for a while. Then your name comes out as a quiet whisper, so delicate that you almost miss it due to your loud distressed heartbeat.

“Yes,” you nod, “it’s me. I’m here.”

“How?”

In truth, you weren’t supposed to be here. Nat was the one assigned to pick Bucky up but ever since you woke up today, an eerie bad feeling surrounded and loomed over you like a dark cloud. It just felt like something wasn’t right—an anxious feeling growing stronger and stronger each passing minute. And when you saw Nat at breakfast, the words, “Let me come with you,” came out of your mouth before you could even stop it.

“I came with Nat,” you answer, voice quivering when you’re reminded of your intuition. I knew it.

“No. You can’t be her,” he says, “you can’t.”

“What do you mean?” you question while pushing the hairs from his forehead. You turn his head to check for any signs of a concussion. “I’m right here.”

“You can’t…” he continues to persist. “She wouldn’t come all the way for me.”

What?

“Bucky, what are you saying? What do you mean she wouldn’t come all the way for you?”

“I’m not worth her time,” he mumbles.

You freeze, finally understanding the situation. He doesn’t believe you’re actually here. He thinks you aren’t real, that you are someone else. “Bucky, I— ”

He cuts you off, “There’s nothing I can offer her. Why would she care for me?”

After Hydra and all the shit he’s been through, he never thought he would be able to feel the normal emotions an average person would feel ever again. Then he got formally introduced to the team after deciding he was finally ready to join the Avengers and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you—a feeling he hadn’t experienced since what felt like forever. And when he finally got to know you, Bucky never felt so alive. The interactions during team missions and exchanges around the Tower had Bucky falling hopelessly in love with you.

He clears his throat and a tender smile appears. “She’s so special. Has this amazing smile and cutest laugh. She also has the kindest heart but always kicks ass when she needs to,” he says.

Bucky never thought he would love again until you. But he knows the feeling will never be reciprocated. Friendship was one thing, but devoting yourself to someone was something else entirely. And who would want to be with someone as messed up as him?

His smile slowly turns into a frown. “But I’m just… me and there’s nothing I could offer her. There’s nothing to love.”

Your lips tremble at his words, too distraught to even notice the tear sliding down your face.

How can he talk about himself like this? Doesn’t he know that there is so much to admire and cherish? Sometimes, you even think you need a bigger heart, perhaps even two, in order to fit all the love you have for him.

That amazing smile he mentioned was only evident because of him. The smile that only appears when he’s around. Like when he offers to stay with you to clean up the training room. Or when he chooses the spot next to you during movie night.

That cute laugh he mentioned was most of his doing—like whenever he tells dad jokes that don't really make any sense until he explains it, only for you to laugh harder when you finally do. Or when Tony gets angry at you winning ‘Avengers Game Night’ three times in a row and you laugh because Bucky helped you cheat, again.

And that kind heart he mentioned was because Bucky made you want to become a better person. But like he said, you could kick ass too, and you promise you would find and hunt down every single person that laid a hand on him.

You and Bucky never got past anything but the occasional teasing. And you never tried anything further, fearing rejection. But you were okay with just him being there. It didn’t matter if he was beside you, next to you or in front of you—if he was there, you were happy.

So how can he say he had nothing to offer you when his mere presence was enough?

You meet his eyes, both yours and his glistening with each other’s reflection. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky repeats your words in his head. You’re wrong.

Maybe he is wrong. Maybe he’s more than just an ex-brainwashed-assassin. Maybe he’s actually worthy of your love. And maybe you really are in front of him. It’s hard to tell. It feels like he’s in the Austrian Alps again—on the brink between life and death. But unlike the last time, there’s someone with him who’s holding his hand and guiding him through everything. Someone who looks breathtakingly like you. Must be an angel, he thinks.

“Bucky, you’re wrong,” you repeat. “There’s so much to love about you.” There’s so much I love about you.

“What does she think?”

He keeps referring to you in third-person, still not believing you're actually here and it breaks your heart a little.

You sniffle. “I think she feels the same. I’m sure she can go on and on about what she likes about you.”

“When I was escaping, all I could think about was her.”

You let out a shaky breath at his comment because all you could think about was him on the way here.

“I was… I was scared that I might not ever see her again. There’s still something I have to tell her, but whenever I try, it can’t come out.”

“And what is it that you want to tell her?”

He gulps. “That I love her.”

You let out a small cry and hold onto his hand even tighter, hoping he’ll understand.

He recoils and takes a sharp inhale as another shot of pain runs through him. It’s getting hard to talk but there’s still one question he needs to ask who he assumes is his guardian angel. “Do you think she could’ve loved me?”

His words finally break you. “I think…” you choke out, struggling to wipe the tears running relentlessly down your face, “I think she could’ve loved you.”

His eyes are slowly starting to flutter shut from exhaustion. “You think so?”

You nod and try your best to hold back your half smothered sobs. “In fact, she does love you. But she’s just too scared to tell you and it’s been gnawing at her forever,” you cry out, cradling his face with your free hand.

Your hand is caked with his blood and right there and then, you notice how human he looks. Despite having the super soldier serum flowing through his veins, he’s not invincible. He’s human. He can get hurt. He had fears. He could succumb to injuries. For a moment, you think about a life without someone like Bucky Barnes in it. You don’t think you would be able to smile again.

“She loves you too, Bucky. So don’t talk like you’re never going to see her again. Because you need to survive this so the both of you can tell each other everything.”

Survive this. He can do that, he thinks. His lovely angel is telling him that you love him. He needs to survive this and get back—back to you.

He closes his eyes and gives a weak smile, trying his best to fight off the unconsciousness that’s threatening to take over.

“Landing in two minutes!” Nat shouts.

When the Quinjet hits the ground, numerous medics come and place Bucky onto a stretcher. And as they push him to the medical bay, you hold his hand the whole way.

When you reach the entrance to the surgery room, Dr. Cho stops you for a second. “I’m sorry but you can’t enter beyond this point,” she tells you with apologetic eyes.

You nod, but before you go, “Hey, Bucky,” you quip, hoping somehow he’ll hear you. “You’re almost there. Don’t give up, okay?”

You take one last look at him before lifting his hand. “She’ll be there when you wake up,” you mutter, pressing your lips against his bruised knuckles.

And in the silence, a small whisper of “You promise?” escapes his lips and you hook your pinky with his before they wheel him into the surgery room.

Hours later, Dr. Cho finally comes out and you let out the loudest breath of relief when she says he’s stable, giving you the thumbs up to visit him.

The rest of the team joins, but you’re the one who opts to stay. Nat gives you a comforting pat on the back before you are finally left alone on the couch, the beeping of the monitor joining your saturnine sighs.

When he finally wakes, he squeezes your hand that was intertwined with his all night. You’re here, Bucky whispers to himself.

Your eyes flutter open, face brightening at the sight of him. “You’re awake.”

Bucky looks at you and panic arises at the sight of your blood-soaked shirt. But he slowly starts to remember what happened. He realizes that it was real after all. You really were there. You came for him and you stayed. And perhaps, maybe somewhere deep within him, he knew it was real all along, real enough to get him through.

“I have to tell you something,” the both of you blurt out in unison, wasting no time because life’s too precious to wait.

You both let out a small chuckle. You already know what he’s going to say—his confession is still clear in your mind. And he knows what you’re going to say, he vaguely remembers you saying the words he always wanted to hear.

“You need to rest,” you insist. “Let me… let me go first,” you say nervously.

You start from the beginning, from the moment you woke up to when he got wheeled into the operation room. And you weren’t joking when you said you could go on and on about what you like about him—you think you spent an entire hour telling him. Somewhere in-between, he wipes your tears away. You tell him your feelings and he blushes and beams at you as if he didn’t just go through a near-death experience hours ago.

“… Next time, I’m going with you on every single mission.”

“You’re not going to get sick of me?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“Impossible,” he says in certainty.

Bucky could never get sick of you. Bucky wants you there, every moment, everyday. Just like how you stayed with him through everything not once letting go of his hand, he’s going to stick by you too, no matter what happens.

[raayllum]

Anyway borrowing from the Rayllum relevant sections of my "arc 2 is about the pursuit of knowledge / knowledge as a burden" meta for s4 and s5 (minimized/condensed text is from previous meta) let's talk about S6

Season four in a lot of ways was the journey of

Mutual Love as Self Actualization: Part 1 — Uncertainty to Certainty (S4)

As previously noted, Callum starts out S4 at both a loss with the mirror, and still coping with the uncertainty and stagnation of his loss of Rayla. When Ezran reaffirms that Callum still loves her, all Callum can helplessly rely that he doesn’t “even know if she’s alive.” Things don’t really improve once Rayla shows up, either, even if we see the persistent thread of not knowing vs knowing being knit throughout their arc with one another.

When Ezran is trying to get Callum and Rayla to work together, he doesn’t tell them to set everything aside, or even harkens back to their good old days. He asserts their identities and says, “Don’t you remember who you are?” because to him — and evidently to Callum and Rayla, because it works — working together and helping each other has become a fundamental, core part of who they are as individuals. They are that interwoven with each other, and Rayla reflects that in 4x07 with, “Callum, you’re the 'destiny is a book you write yourself’ guy. No one can control you or make your choices for you” as well as what Callum offers up to her in 4x09 where we see the turning point in their prior uncertainty. Although they’ve both changed, they are fundamentally still the same people they were when they fell in love, and there is both comfort, sadness, and acceptance in that realization, where Callum says:

Mutual Love as Self Actualization: Part 2 — Certainty and Discovery (S5)

Upon reconciling once Callum has said what we knew all along — “I’m so glad you come back” — Callum and Rayla return to the castle, and their searches for knowledge become arguably more explicitly stated by the text. Their first scene together in 5x01 establishes that Callum wants to know the Ocean arcanum (“I thought it would be about controlling the tides or fighting the currents” thereby exerting control, which he desperately wants over himself post-S4) as well as Aaravos, whereas Rayla is seeking answers about her family: “If I can figure out how he put you into the cursed coins, maybe I can find a way to get you out.”

This is, of course, something we know she doesn’t trust Callum with yet, not wanting to burden him with her problems especially before she’s reached her own conclusion of what to do about it (to delay it for the good of the world) and we see that the certainty and forgiveness Callum found in 4x09 has more than carried over.

Opeli: Don’t you want to know what she was up to? Why she did all this?

And although very uncertain about opening up, Rayla still expresses certainty that she knows Callum could and can be there for her, if he wants to be — if he’s ready to be.

This is, after all, with both Amaya’s encouragement and Callum’s reassurance that 1) “You can tell me when you’re ready” and that 2) he does want to know from 5x01. Then, we see both their arcs in this way largely — or at least they would, in a perfect world — be resolved in many ways by their interaction later in 5x04:

Previously, we’ve mostly talked about knowledge, especially within the text of the show, as a positive thing. It is the foundational rock of a strong relationship, it can lead to positive self actualization, and it helps the heroes keep Aaravos from being unleashed. When you do not have enough knowledge or perceived understanding of someone (Claudia assumes Soren could never understand her, and Viren and Harrow’s relationship breakdown), your relationship accordingly deteriorates. When you share knowledge, and share experiences (Rayla to Callum about the coins, Soren to Elmer about abusive cycles), you can become stronger together.

But knowledge is not exclusively a good thing. It can also be harmful, or unwanted, or unwanted precisely because it’s harmful. It can bind you to deals or bonds you don’t really want, and once you know something, you cannot un-know it, whether about yourself or about others. And we see this most plainly in the story Archmage Akiyu shares about the prison ("I knew too much").

So if S4 is about beginning to navigate both in spite of and within uncertainty, S5 is about having the safety of that uncertainty stripped away, both in creating more of it, and in removing some of it. Namely, the Ocean arcanum.

He chased the Ocean arcanum because he thought, if Sky granted him potential and freedom, then Ocean would grant him control, but the truth was more complicated than that. While it did grant him control (the ability to break free from Finnegrin’s spell), it also granted him a rather hard truth he’d rather not know.

The first time he cites his poem about true tides and untold deaths, he is talking about his faith and trust in Rayla — the way he views her: “If she didn’t tell me, she has a good reason. […] I trust her. Unconditionally.”

The second time he recites the poem, it is about himself. The untold depths are within himself, are parts he is still trying to understand in full because they are uncomfortable truths. In many ways, Callum unlocking the Ocean arcanum is his version of Ezran’s 4x03 speech (see how we looped all the way back? 'Totally’ intentional I swear), that multiple things can be, and sort of have to be, true in order to gain new ground, even if there’s a part of you that wishes it could be simple.

Season six develops this theme, too, but it takes it and calls it Truth, and we see this reflected most notably in 6x06.

Mutual Love as Self Actualization: Part 3 — Certainty and Salvation (S6)

In season six, we see Callum build upon this certainty with Rayla by the way he remains emotionally open with her about his hopes and fears. After his 6x01 nightmare freaks him out, he runs right to her to receive support; when the guilt and fear gnaws at him in 6x03, he tells her the truth of what he did on Finnegrin's ship.

While the obvious facet of knowledge (truth) and salvation here is in 6x06, I also like to think it starts an episode earlier in 6x05. Callum wants to go along with the mission because he knows the quasar diamonds will be what they get in exchange whereas Rayla goes along with it because he's pushing for it (and well, helping people is always nice).

However, where Callum believes that the icy beast they seemingly have to slay is a monster, Rayla believes differently and hedges her bets on what she knows.

This is a great mini turning point in season six for a few reasons. For one, it merges the idea of truth and knowledge into one ("I know it's true") as well as emphasizing the concept of knowing something in your heart, which 6x06 will build on of "dark magic tears a hole in your spirit/heart that light can fill". It also clearly ties back to something that Callum knows he knows, which is that he trusts Rayla unconditionally (5x01). So he goes with it.

When Rayla does reach out to the behemoth, it's with more facets of knowledge: "I know you're in pain. I don't want to hurt you...", knowing the creature's name and the stories ("I know who you are"), and even in her lullaby:

(We'll come back to the lullaby for 6x06's relevancy as well). Once Rayla's kindness and compassion gets through, of her knowledge and seeing the truth of Esmeray's pain much like Ezran saw Zubeia's ("and the truth of you seeing that made it feel like less, like healing"), we return to how well Callum knows her and his knowledge about the trial ("You knew this was the reward"):

If I'd told you, you would've refused to go, because you never do anything for yourself.

To love someone is to know them, and to know them is (in these cases) to develop love for them. The same way that Rayla brings Runaan out of his grief and guilt induced darkness in 6x09 ("I'm your daughter and I love you") and recognizes the grief and guilt plaguing Esmeray, likewise, she represents and is Love to Callum.

He's gone from being uncertain about her survival, about expressing his love, all the way to looking to her for support and direction about the trials set before him:

Kosmo: Dark magic left a hole in you, but the Star-truth ritual can fill the darkness with light. [...] You must search your mind and heart for your one deep truth, the star within you. Then you must let that truth shine and fill the darkness. Callum: One deep truth, huh? Kosmo: Your deepest truth. [...] You must find the star within you, the one deep truth so bright it can fill the darkness.

As know, Callum's trial is still a struggle for him at first. But luckily Rayla's lullaby also foreshadowed the principle of looking inward rather than outward, too, and precisely what kind of answer and truth Callum is going to find.

Callum: I found my one truth.

His truth, his knowledge, his constant, his light... is love, his love, for Rayla and from Rayla. At the end of 6x06 in many ways, Callum is at his most self-actualized, freed from the taint of dark magic and paranoia about Aaravos' control... saved and allowed to become the best version of himself, a bright shining light. A star in his own right. Which is likewise why he expresses his truth before the episode is done. He did dark magic for her, but she's so much more than just darkness or desperation or sadness for him; she's light and hope and Love, too. She's his Constant, Deepest Truth. She's everything.

It's taken two and a half seasons, but he's ready to do more than just know it. He's ready to say it.

So he does.

[throneofsmut]

Kintober Day Twenty-Two : Against a Wall Rhys x Female Reader

Being Helion’s little sister had its perks. Like being able to lose yourself in all of the books the Day court library had to offer. Granted you were only a couple years younger, he was extremely overprotective. More so now that he was High Lord of Day and his advisor’s were hounding him to marry you off.

Their excuse was it would help make the Day court even stronger, but since you were children it was obvious Helion would inherit the crown.

You didn’t mind it, yet some people thought you were envious but truth be told you didn’t want nor care for the crown. Helion knew that, he also knew you just wanted to be happy above all else and to be loved like the one written in your books. Hoping to one day find your mate.

So he made you a promise. When he became High Lord he wouldn’t marry you off, or force you to do anything you didn’t want to. He instead let you find love on your own and basically let you do whatever, as long as it didn’t hurt you, others or the day court.

Still he was overprotective and intimidating, making it hard to find someone willing to date the High Lord’s little sister. But there was one who didn’t care that he was High Lord. The heir to the crown of the Night Court.

Rhysand.

Which was why you were about to get fucked against a wall on one of the floors of the Day Court libraries. While your brother and Rhys’ father were in a meeting.

“Rhys.” His name was a prayer on your lips as he moved your hips over his clothed cock, reveling in the soft whimpers leaving your lips from the friction. You could feel him through the clothes separating the two of you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rubbing against him.

“I need you inside me.” You confessed softly, trying to hold back the moans trying to escape you. As he kissed your neck and breasts, nipping at them lightly before pulling back to look at you.

He gave you a wicked smirk but something flickered in his eyes at your words. “I said i’d fuck you against the wall, do you think i’m not gonna follow through with that, darling ?”

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You snarled against his shoulder as he grounded hips into your harder.

“You won’t be able to walk after I’m done with you.”

“Rhys-“ Your words died in your throat, as he pushed into. Crashing his hips into yours and then he’s pulling almost all the way out before crashing back into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

He growls into your ear quietly, “You have to be quiet or we’ll get caught.”

But it’s too late, you’re too far gone, lost in the pleasure he’s making you feel. Too lost in him. In the way his cock feels inside you, his body pressed against yours and his low groans in your ear.

“I told you to be quiet, fuck- your legs are shaking.” He groaned, lips parted slightly. You look at him through half-lidded eyes. Your eyes falling to his soft lips, licking from his bottom lip to his top lip before claiming his mouth with yours.

Suddenly he’s pulling back, resting his forehead against yours as he fucks you faster and harder than before. He knows you're about to fall over the edge from the way you're clenching around him and he was to fall with you.

You bite his shoulder, suppressing a scream as you fall apart. Rhys, falling right behind with a low groan, as he cums inside of you.

He presses lazy kisses on your forehead, cock still buried inside of you as he holds you up against the wall. Chests still heaving, when the both of you hear your brother calling out for you.

“Y/n.”

The both of you pull apart, trying to straighten your clothes out, you throw a scent glamour over the both of you. Hoping he won’t notice anything but your legs are stilling fucking shaking.

“Fucking Hell.” You mutter and Rhys is by your side in an instant, helping to steady you.

“Y/n ?” Helion turns the corner looking at the both of you. Eyes narrowed as he stares down Rhys and Mother help you because Rhys just gives him a lazy grin in response.

“What are you two doing here ?”

Fuck he knows. You and Rhys are caught. “Uh…” And then Rhys is talking, “She was showing me a book about the-“ He turns to look at you and as soon as your eyes meet, the both of you let out nearly inaudible gasps.

Staring at each other with wide eyes.

He inches closer, giving you a broad smile as he cradles your face in his large hands. Your cheeks glowing as you gave him a dimpled grin in return, before the both of you breathed one word.

“Mate.”

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[lianaloverr]

Let Em’ Know

Sam Golbach x Fem!reader

Summary: Sam had been gone on a trip, but when he got back to surprise you and saw a guy flirting with you, he does take it lightly…

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Word count: 1.2k

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Warnings: blowjob,fluff, sam being overprotective

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It feels like an eternity since you last laid eyes on Sam. The ache in your heart grows stronger with each passing day, as you long for his presence.

Thoughts of him consume your mind, wondering if he misses you in return or if he even thinks of you amidst his busy work trip.

The emptiness you feel without him is crazy, and you yearn for the day when he'll return and fill your world with his warmth and love.

“Hey girl, you’ve been staring at that wall for quite a while. What’s so interesting about it?” Stas, your best friend since forever, asks, grinning mischievously as if she’s about to poke fun at you. “Uhh, nothing. I guess I’m just overthinking,” you say, glancing down at your hands.

Stas knows how much you’re hurting, how deeply you miss your boyfriend Sam, but all she can do is offer her support. “Well, that sucks. Let’s go to a party!” She announces suddenly, and you simply nod. You need to get your mind off things you almost look depressed.

You dressed up, feeling a bit unsure but determined to look cute. Sighing, you made your way to the living room and slipped on your heels. The dress you chose hugged your waist and accentuated your curves, making you feel confident and sexy. If Sam were here, he would have been drooling over how good you look. As you glanced at yourself in the mirror, a smile crept onto your face, knowing you were going to turn heads tonight.

You wondered where Stas was, but when she emerged from her room, you were taken aback by her beauty. It almost made you question your own preferences. "WOAH," you exclaimed. She grinned and approached you, showering you with compliments. "You look amazing, girl, ughhh," she exclaimed as she hugged you tightly. After the hug, she stepped back, eyeing you appreciatively, and playfully slapped your hand. "Thank youuu, but look at youuuuu, I could literally eat you," you said, giggling.

Stas chuckled, flipping her hair dramatically. "Oh, please, you're the one who's going to stop traffic tonight, not me."

You smirked, playfully rolling your eyes. "Stop it, you're making me blush. But seriously, though, we're going to be the hottest duo out there."

"Damn right we are," Stas agreed, grabbing her purse. "Let's show them how it's done."

As you both headed out, you couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence, knowing you had a friend as fabulous as Stas by your side.

As you and Stas entered the party, the music thumping and the crowd alive with energy, you couldn't help but feel a thrill run through you. However, your excitement went down a bit as a guy approached you, clearly interested.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said, flashing a smile.

You forced a polite smile, not wanting to be rude. "Hi."

"I'm Alex. Haven't seen you around here before. Are you new in town?" he asked, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut in. "Hey, babe, sorry I'm late," Sam said, appearing beside you, a surprised expression on his face as he noticed Alex. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Sam?" Your heart raced at the sight of him. He looked so good, and the way you missed him hit you all at once, making your legs feel like jelly. You couldn't help but think, "Wow, he's here!"

You shook your head, relieved to see him. "No, not at all. Sam, this is Alex. Alex, this is my boyfriend, Sam."

Sam extended his hand, a friendly smile on his face. "Nice to meet you, Alex. Sorry, but I'm going to steal her away for a bit."

As Alex excused himself, Sam turned to you, his expression serious. "Who was that?"

You smiled, trying to ease his tension. "Just someone I met here. No big deal."

Sam's gaze hardened, a hint of jealousy creeping in. "Well, just so he knows, you're mine," he said, his tone firm. "I'm coming back for good, so let them all know what's mine."

You could sense Sam's jealousy, and you decided to play along, enjoying the attention. "Of course, babe. Everyone will know," you said, giving him a playful wink.

Sam's attitude softened, and he pulled you closer. "Good. Because I don't like the idea of other guys talking to you," he admitted, his grip tightening around you.

You chuckled, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Don't worry, you're the only one I'm interested in," you reassured him, feeling grateful to have him by your side.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his eyes filled with a primal hunger. “Yes, it is, baby,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with seductive promise.

His smile was predatory as he pulled you close, his strong hands gripping your waist possessively. With a firm touch, he tilted your chin up, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, devouring kiss that ignited a fiery passion between you, quickly escalating into an intense make-out session.

After the intense make-out session, his hands roamed eagerly over your body, igniting a burning desire within you. With a hungry urgency, he guided you down to your knees, his eyes locked on yours, filled with lustful anticipation. You knew what he wanted, and you were more than willing to fulfill his desires.

Slowly, you unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing member. You looked up at him, seeing the raw desire in his eyes.

Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, savoring his taste and the sounds of his pleasure. He moaned softly, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you as you pleasured him with expert skill, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy.

As he approached the peak of ecstasy, his grip tightened in your hair, his breathing growing ragged. With a deep, guttural groan, he released himself, his hot essence spilling over your face.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warm, sticky sensation against your skin, the intensity of the moment overwhelming your senses.

Breathless and flushed with desire, he sank to his knees before you, cupping your face gently in his hands.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of satisfaction and adoration. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you softly, a silent promise of more to come.

With a devilish grin, Sam pulled you back up to your feet, his desire for you not yet sated. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a new wave of passion between you.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

You melted into his touch, eager for more. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

With renewed intensity, he pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. The fire between you burned hotter, driving you both to new heights of pleasure as you lost yourselves in each other once again.

You're thrilled that he's back, filled with anticipation at the thought of enjoying his company once more. The return of his presence brings you immense joy, knowing you can now savor every moment with him.

Ty @gloryaiis

Masterlist

[itsabouttimex2]

Hello! I read your Lmk fics and they're awesome! 💗💗💗 If the request are open can I ask one of Yan Macaque wanting Reader as is apprentice or be their mentor but Reader doesn't want to and every time they deny his offer so he tries to convince them? (being the manipulator he is can offer them more power or strength) Thank you so much! 💖

Tough Love

Yandere Mentor Macaque

You know he’s outside. If it isn’t him, it’s one of his shadow clones. Either way, he’s keeping you up again, scratching at the walls and windows of your house. Today is the fourteenth day of this hell, desperately trying to sleep while Macaque tries to force you to come outside and confront him.

There’s a brief lull in the scratching, and right when you think he’s given up, he begins to pound on your window, rattling the frame as he does. You roll over and stuff your face into your pillow, hoping to block out the thunderous noise. In response, it only grows louder and louder. You bear with it for a few minutes, and eventually… it stops entirely.

Then your bed begins to shake.

You jump to your feet as fast as possible, reaching for something to defend yourself with. Instead, you find Macaque’s shadow clones snatching up everything in reach and pulling them away from you, leaving you completely unarmed and off-guard.

Something taps your shoulder, but you don’t turn around. You already know who it is, after all.

“Hey kiddo,” he starts, his voice surprisingly soft and calm. It doesn’t stay that way for long. “Here I was, starting to think you might be ignoring me, or something.” There’s a definite edge to his voice as he finishes, like he’s daring you to confirm his words. Instead, you just stay quiet. It feels like there’s no right words for this situation, nothing you can say to improve your lot.

“Remember when you said you’d think on my offer, bud? I’m still waiting for an answer. Kinda starting to lose my patience, here.”

He taps your shoulder again. An unspoken command is conveyed through that simple motion. Turn around.

You slowly turn on your heel, revealing your weary eyes and tired face to the demon. He clicks his tongue and huffs. “You really don’t know when to give up, huh? I could make you stronger than you ever imagined. I could teach you to protect yourself.”

You take a step forward, ready to protest and argue, to drive in for the final time that you don’t want or need his help.

But he beats you to the punch.

“Can I ask you something, kid? Why do you even bother to say no? Are you scared? Of what? You’ve got no one left, kiddo. I mean, if you did… they’d be here helping you, right? But no. You’re dealing with the big bad demon all alone. And you still won’t give in. So stubborn! You kinda remind me of an old friend of mine, actually. Difference is…”

“He has people who care about him.”

Everything freezes in place, all the color draining from your face as the world goes quiet. You have no retort, no reply, no defense. His expression grows smug, knowing he’s hit a weak spot. He takes a step forward, looming over you to really drive in how powerless you are right now.

“That’s what I can give you, kid. A place to belong. Someone to look out for you. Strength to stand on your own two feet. Why not let me help you? It’s not like anyone else is trying.”

Your throat tightens painfully, and tears prick your eyes. You try to take a few deep breaths, but your dry lips are stuck together. Every time he had made this offer previously, you had argued him to a standstill, countering each of his points with ease. Now, you can’t even breathe right. You can’t even speak.

He chuckles, and reaches out to pat your shoulder. “All alone, huh. Pretty rough feeling, isn’t it? But you don’t have to be alone. Neither of us do. Let me make you something better.” While you’re still unable to resist, he loops his fingers around one of your wrists and drags you outside with him. The shadows roil and writhe with each step he takes. You stumble along after him, only stopping to take a look back at your house.

Somehow, you feel like you won’t be seeing it for a while.

[catboyglover]

quotes that i think are very trobed coded:

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.” - Richard Siken

“Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.” - Richard Siken

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” - Richard Siken

“If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.” - Richard Siken

“I’ve been rereading your story. I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterioso under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.” - Richard Siken

“You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened.

Your co-workers ask

if everything's okay and you tell them

you're just tired.

And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.” - Richard Siken

“He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.” - Richard Siken

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” - Ocean Vuong

“I miss you more than I remember you.” - Ocean Vuong

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.” - Ocean Vuong

“What were you before you met me?”

“I think I was drowning.”

“And what are you now?”

“Water.” - Ocean Vuong

“You love him. The story still ends.

So please, I beg you,

he is all that I have,

and you have so many heroes,

and the world has so many more.

Let him be soft. And let him be mine.” - Pencap

“Yes, yes, yes, I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.” - Virginia Woolf

“I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’” - Azra T.

“Good news, I love you anyway. All the mess and fuss of you. All the stray hairs and uneven smiles. I love your laugh and your sigh and the way you sing along with the music. It’s all lovable. It feels so good to love you.” - Redinkskinned

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.” - Edgar Allan Poe

“There is something wrong with you. There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.” - Hera Lindsay Bird

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, I am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in there.” - L M Dorsey

“And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn’t matter.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“I just want you to know that you’re very special. And the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You make me lovely.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You know what I like about you? You’re interesting. You’re different. And I can talk to you. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“…You know what I like about you? Everything.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“I love you.”

“It’ll pass.” - from “Fleabag” (2016-2019) by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

“I sit here on the couch, waiting.

Waiting for this to pass.

Days go by and I’m still here. Waiting.

You sit there, nothing changes.

I wait with bared teeth.

I wait.

I wait.

I wait.

I wait for you.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.” - Anne Carson

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” - Jane Austen

[breannasfluff]

Warriors is brushing Wind’s hair. The young hero has snarled it into a nest of tangles and the captain grumbles at every snag of the brush. Wind, for his part, is getting twitchy and keeps trying to pull away.

“Stop moving! You’re making it worse!”

“You’re pulling too hard!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t have so many tangles! What did you do, tie knots in it?”

Wind crosses his arms and glares at the ground. “Just haven’t gotten to it in a bit.”

Wild watches them. The situation is slowly raising the vague familiarity of Before. If he concentrates, maybe he can bring it into focus…

“Ow!” Wind jerks away and swipes the brush from Warriors. “That’s enough! I’ll do it myself.”

Warriors throws up his hands. “Good luck on the tangles in the back.” He grumbles all the way to his bags. “And give me my brush back when you’re done. Clean!”

“I know, I’m not a little kid!” Wind glares at the brush, possibly considering throwing it at the captain. Then he starts yanking at tangles.

Wind makes it a grand total of a minute before he gives up. Wild winces with second-hand pain; he’s knotted his hair on more than one occasion.

Taking a chance, he gets up and joins Wind. “Mind if I try? I’ve got some experience with tangles.”

Maybe it’s because the offer comes from shared experience, but Wind passes over the brush. “Might need to cut a tangle out at this rate.”

Not if Wild can help it. Wind’s hair is wavy like it’s perpetually drenched in sea spray even away from the ocean. Settling down behind Wind, Wild starts at the bottom of his hair and carefully pulls the brush through a small section.

The familiarity is back, pulsing stronger. He doesn’t chase it this time, just lets his eyes slide half shut and focus on Wind’s hair. When he gets to a tangle, his fingers instinctively tighten above it so he can pull the brush against it without pulling hair.

“This okay?” he checks as he works on a knot.

Wind almost nods, then stops as it pulls his hair. “Whatever you’re doing doesn’t hurt.”

“—doesn’t hurt!”

Wind is gone; the Chain is gone. Wild—no, Link hums as he brushes his sister’s hair. It’s full of tangles and twigs after a stint chasing cuccos through the bushes.

“You start from the bottom,” Link explains to her. “And work through the tangles in sections. It helps if you hold the chunk so you don’t pull hair out.”

She huffs in his lap. “You’re better at it than Papa. He tugs too hard.”

Link runs a hand through a finished section of hair. It’s silky soft, falling smoothly above her shoulders. The long fringes on either side of her face are his favorite to braid. Sometimes he’ll sneak flowers into the braids if he can find them.

“I wish you were home to brush my hair more often.”

The master sword is a looming presence, even away from the castle.

Link plants a kiss on her head and keeps working. “I’ll brush it every day if you like, but you have to promise to stop letting cuccos nest in your hair!”

“I didn’t let them nest—”

Wild blinks and Wind’s hair, a different shade of blond, stares back at him. How long was he lost in the memory? Already the details are fading, but a few things stick. The feel of his sister’s hair in his hands. Flowers in braids.

He still doesn’t know her name.

Wild drops the brush to wrap his arms around Wind, who startles at the sudden movement. It’s not Wind Wild imagines, but his sister. If he squeezes tight enough, maybe he can send all his love to wherever she is.

The sailor’s soft voice brings him back to the moment. “Did you remember something? About your sister?”

He nods into Wind’s shoulder. “Brushing her hair,” he whispers.

“Well, if you’re half as good as you are now, she’s a lucky girl.”

Wild holds on for one more moment before letting go and picking up the brush. “Sorry. You—she—” How to explain this mess of feelings? Wind isn’t a replacement for his sister and he doesn’t want the sailor to think that’s his only use. It’s just, having someone smaller to care for and hold, every once and a while, fills a need Wild barely understands.

“Sorry,” he finally says, giving up. The brush continues its motion through Wind’s hair.

The sailor kicks his feet, letting the toes of his boots bounce off each other. “I do Aryll’s hair for her a lot. She’s got these clips with seashells on them she likes to wear. Sometimes she’ll put one in my hair, too.”

Wild hums to show he’s listening and carefully separates another tangle. He’s already made progress; one side of Wind’s hair no longer has snags when he runs his fingers through it.

“One time she found all these ribbons and begged me to put them in her hair. It was way too many, so I ended up braiding it into a crown for her to wear.”

Another pass of the brush. “Wind?”

“What’s up?”

“You’re a good big brother. You know that, right?”

The sailor is quiet and when he speaks, his voice quivers slightly. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have her.”

“Thank you for letting me help with your hair.”

Wind tips his head back, making Wild pull back as well so he doesn’t yank a tangle. “Anytime. That’s what brothers are for, right?”

His answering grin is slow, but no less bright. “Brothers.” When he starts brushing again, the hum in his throat feels natural.

Read the rest here!

[reigningqueenofwords]

Home

Pairing: Past Bucky x Reader

Part 4 of Little Soldier

“You…you want to give me a chance to be his dad after everything I said, and how much I hurt you?” He was shocked. “Really?!”

“As scared as I am, yes. It’s up to you, though. What do you think?” You were trying to hide the fact that you were shaking a bit. What if he just walked out? What if he told you that he still didn’t want Dom. Your mind was racing, just waiting for him to say something . Even saying he needs time would be something! 

Bucky had never would have thought in a million years this would be happening. That despite everything, you were offering this. He knew that this wasn’t being offered lightly. You had to have thought about this. Everything in your life the past six years had been all about raising Dom. Everything was to give him a good, safe, happy, and full life. He was terrified about messing that up. He was terrified of hurting either of you. There were so many conflicting emotions. He never stopped loving you, but couldn’t bring himself to even hope that you’d ever take him back. Finally, he found his voice. “I…” He took a deep breath. “I want to try.” 

Your eyes went wide, watering. “Really?” You breathed. “You want him to know who you are? You want everything that comes with it?” You couldn’t help but smile softly at that. 

He nodded, giving you a small smile in return. “Really.” He assured you. “Whenever you’re ready. I know you’re both in a rough spot, so there’s no rush. Can I maybe get to know him just as me, though, in the meantime? Maybe I can hang out with him and Stevie when he has him? Or maybe come watch a movie with him?” He wouldn’t push you into doing this when you were still in pain. 

You couldn’t help yourself, moving to hug him. You were so overwhelmed with feelings- sadness, pain, thankfulness, etc. No one feeling was taking over at the moment. Bucky hugged you back, just hoping that the two of you could move forward from there. This was a fresh start. 

The next morning as you were cleaning up breakfast, Tony came over to you. “So, did you want me to hire someone to go back up your house?” He asked gently. “Get your things to the tower?” 

You swallowed, shaking your head. “No. I don’t want strangers going through our life. I think I need to do that.” You told him. “Decide what to keep, what to donate, things like that.” You looked over at him. “Maybe start working on finally getting on the road to closure.” You’d always feel guilty. While you let Tony deal with the legal aspects of what had happened (aside from the questions that only you could answer), you weren’t stupid. You knew that your house was attacked because of you. Because of who you were. Your past had caught up with you, and it had gotten your fiance killed. “Maybe send some things of his to his family.” You sniffed. You’d only ever met his brother in real life, but had facetimed his parents many times. You adored them, and hated that you’re why they lost their son. 

He rubbed your arm. “Let me know when you want to do that.” He kissed your forehead. “Want me to have Nat go with you? Or Steve?” He offered, not wanting you to go alone. Not with all that work to do- not just packing, but the emotional work of something so difficult. 

“I’ll go.” Bucky spoke up from where he was pouring himself a second cup of coffee.”Let Nat and Steve both stay with Dom. I’m sure he’d like having them both around while Y/N is gone.” He noted. “I mean, if that’s alright.” He looked at you. 

You weren’t expecting that, but nodded. “Sure.” You shrugged. “I’m sure having you to help move things around will be handy.” He was stronger than you were, afterall. 

He gave you a soft smile. “Just tell me when you wanna go. I’ll get a bag packed.” 

Two days later, the pair of you had driven out of the city in an SUV, towards the home you’d spent so long in. Neither of you had said much since you’d left the tower. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but there was a sadness to the air. After this trip, you wouldn’t be ever going back to that house. Processing that was hard. 

It was an hour into the trip before Bucky spoke up. “Want me to drive for a bit?” He offered. 

You let out a breath as you shook your head. “No, thanks. This gives me something to focus on. If you drove, my mind would wander. I don’t want that.” The thoughts could wait until you got there. 

He nodded, understanding that. He went back to being quiet, choosing to let you talk if you wanted to. This was about you. 

When you put the SUV in park in front of the house, you just sat there, staring at the large home. Your heart clenched as you slowly unbuckled, turning off the engine. “Here it goes.” You managed. 

“It’ll be okay.” Bucky reached over, giving your hand a squeeze. “Take your time.” He said gently. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” 

Licking your lips, you sniffed. “Maybe you can work on Dom’s room?” You suggested. “Maybe that’ll help you get to know his likes and stuff more?” You looked over at him, hoping that this would be something good to come out of everything. You’d be focusing on the rest of the house. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” He gave you a small smile. “Just show me the way.” 

“I’ll give you a quick tour so you know where everything is in case I ask you to get something from a room.” You sighed before pulling out the keys and sliding out. The memory was still so fresh, and you then realized that you’d be seeing his blood when you went in there. There would be no way to go through your entire house and not see it. The thought was like a punch to the gut, and you were trying to focus on your breathing. 

Bucky walked around to stand with you. There was no way for him to even begin understanding what you were feeling. 

Nat had Dom in the playroom that Tony had set up for him, watching him play with some Hotwheels. Part of her wished that you would have asked her to go with you, wanting to support you, but she also understood why you didn’t. With you gone, there was a very high chance that Dom would cling to her and Steve. She smiled when Dom started to laugh, having put together a track that Tony had bought him the day before. It had a shark on it, and the small boy lost it whenever it moved. 

Steve peeked in as it neared dinner. “Hey, you guys, you hungry?” He asked, wanting to offer to make them something at least. And hopefully talk to Nat. He was worried about you, and was hoping to maybe do something nice for you when you got back. He just had no idea what. Hopefully she could help. 

Hearing Steve’s voice, Dom whipped his head around, his dark hair coming out of the hair tie that was holding it back. He had a huge grin on his face. “Can we go to McDonald’s, Uncle Steve? Please?” He asked, hopefully. 

“Only if Aunt Nat fixes your hair.” He teased. “Does she want to come, too?” He glanced to her. 

She shrugged. “Sure, like I’d let you loose with my nephew in New York City. Someone needs to protect you boys.” She chuckled. “Come here, Dom, lemme fix your hair.” She motioned for him to come over. “Low pony tail, or what?” She asked as he sat on the floor in front of her. 

He thought for a minute. “Low is fine.” He shrugged, making a black car roll on his leg. “Uncle Steve, can you ask Aunt Wanda to come, too?” Dom asked. “She’s always really fun, too.” He loved her ‘light up hands’ as he called them. 

He smiled. “Sure. Anyone else?” He asked, leaning on the doorframe. “Maybe Uncle Clint?” 

“Sure! He always gets a Happy Meal and gives me the toy.” He grinned as Nat finished his hair. “Can we send a picture to mommy? She says they make her happy.” Dom looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Of course!” She pulled out her phone. “Say cheese.” 

He got up. “WAIT!” He held out his little hands. “I want a picture with you guys.” He explained. 

Steve came in to sit on the couch, Dom getting between them. Nat got her camera ready and they all smiled as she held up the phone. “Now let’s be silly!” She told them, knowing you’d need this. They all made a different funny face at the camera. “Okay, I’ll get Dom ready to go, and hunt down Clint.  You get Wanda and meet us in the lobby?” She suggested as she typed out a quick text to you with the two pictures. 

You were sitting on your bed, clothing all around you when your phone went off. Seeing Dom and your best friends, you smiled sadly. Letting out a breath, you just stared at it. Hearing a knock on the door, you looked up. “You okay? I was gonna offer to order us a pizza.” He didn’t dare move in further. He’d seen pictures up on the walls of the family you’d created here, and it was very clear the home had been full of love. 

“Nat sent me a couple pictures.” You got up and walked over. “He’s your little clone.” You muttered as you showed him. 

Bucky wanted to rub your back, but didn’t want to push you away. The two of you were making progress. “It’s so weird seeing Steve with a young me.” He admitted. “Never thought I’d see the day. Saw him with the family. Always thought I’d just be an uncle to his kids.” There was no way he saw Steve only having one. 

You chewed on your lip for a moment. “How about you order that pizza and I’ll pull out some photo albums to show you?” You offered, putting your phone in your pocket. 

“I’d like that.” He nodded. “You still like the same?” You’d always had the same pizza when the two of you had it before. 

“Yup, still the same.” You blushed lightly. “I’ll meet you on the back deck.” You wanted to enjoy the cool night air, and it was one of the few parts of the house not tainted by that memory. On top of that, you had a lot of happy memories of Dom out there. 

“Want me to grab us each a beer?” He offered. “There were a few in the fridge when I got some water.” He explained how he knew there was some in the house. When you nodded, he went to grab his phone and order that pizza. 

Next to you on the table were six picture albums. Every year for his birthday, the team had started a tradition of giving you an album of the previous year of Dom’s life. They knew you always looked forward to it, and it would give him a lot of memories to cherish when he was older. Your eyes were staring out over the part of your yard that you could see. Some illuminated by the lights coming from the house, others by the moon. As you heard Bucky come out,  you didn’t look over. “He’s so upset about leaving this.” You told him. “Dom, I mean.” Although, who else would you mean? “He’s spent so much time out here playing with the soccer kit that Bruce got him for Christmas one year. He has so many memories of Steve kicking the ball around with him, Nat playing goalie, and Clint randomly running in to playfully steal the ball to make Dom get it back.” You sniffed. “He is going to miss this, and his friends.” 

Bucky sat down, sliding your beer towards you on the table. “You don’t think you could ever come back?” He asked. Sipping his beer, he watched you. 

“No. I..I can’t.” You sighed. “I’d love to, for Dom. He’s my everything, and I’d do anything to make him happy.” You glanced at him, shrugging a shoulder. “But living in the house my fiance was killed in is where I draw the line.” You lifted your beer to your lips, drinking almost half in one go. “It’s Tony’s. He can do whatever he wants with it after.” You told him. “But, enough about that. I believe that I told you I’d show you pictures.” Moving your chair so you were a bit closer, you grabbed the first one. “This is my pregnancy, and up until he’s a year old.” You opened it to the first page. 

He saw a picture of you and the entire team- except for him. It was clear it was taken at the house, and you looked very pregnant. Seeing the date neatly written underneath, it was about two months after you’d moved out. He turned the page, chuckling lightly at the picture of Nat poking your belly. “This is a side of her I didn’t expect. Seeing her with Dom is interesting.” 

You smiled softly. “Yeah, he brought out something in her I don’t even think that she knew was there.” You said honestly. “Clint took that when she was trying to get him to kick. She was ‘lecturing’ him on not listening already.” You chuckled at the memory. “As soon as she went to get a drink...he kicked.” 

Hearing things like this hurt, but he did this to himself. The next page was you putting things away in a dresser, very pregnant, and Tony in the background. “What was he doing?” He tried to figure it out, with no luck. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You shrugged. “He was always tinkering with things when he came.” You told him. The other pictures were of your baby shower. Seeing the guys participating was still funny to you. When you turned the page, there was a picture of Dom on your chest, his birth announcement, a picture of the gifts the others had sent, and then you dressing Dom to go home. “While it seems like just yesterday in so many ways, it feels like it was ages ago.” You mused, looking over your son’s newborn face. “Parenthood is funny like that.” 

You were on the second book when the pizza arrived. He got up to get that, and you simply kept looking at the pages you were on. Your fingers traced his small face. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d had his innocence shattered at such a young age. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t come back to the only home he had ever known. Sniffing, you wiped your cheeks. You tried to calm yourself before Bucky came back out. It was so hard to be this vulnerable around him, but you couldn’t help it. It just came out. Part of you wanted to remain guarded after everything, but part of you wanted the trust that the two of you once had. Even before you were a couple. You trusted each other a great deal. He had been your best friend, as well. The one that you told everything to. The one that held your hair back when you’d had too much to drink. The one that ‘threatened’ dumbass guys after dumping you. The one that had always been there. You had thought you knew him well. You had been wrong. 

Bucky set the pizza on an empty chair, not wanting to move the books. “Want me to get plates?” He asked. 

“Nah.” You shook your head. “We can eat one handed so we don’t get these greasy.” You shrugged a shoulder, opening the box to grab a slice. 

The two of you had spent hours in the back, chatting about Dom, about the team, and things in the pictures. He had learned so much in a short amount of time. From the team, from Dom’s room, from you, and the pictures. And he wanted to know more. The more he learned, the more he hated himself for walking away. He was torn, however. He still felt valid in what he had been thinking- that he was a monster, that he’d screw a kid up. On the other hand, with you as a mother, wouldn’t Dom have a damn good chance to not be screwed up? That’s all he could think about as he stared at the ceiling. He was in a spare room, and you were just down the hall. 

You were doing basically the same thing. Since that first night that you’d opened up to Steve, you hadn’t slept alone. At all. Either Steve or Nat stayed with you. You knew that couldn’t last forever. Hell, Nat was already saying there was something between you and Steve. Which was insane. The thought of being with him made you scrunch your nose. 

Turning your head to the side, you saw the clock numbers as if they were much brighter than they were. It was just before midnight. You had a lot of work to do the next day, and you were exhausted. “Shit.” You groaned, pushing back the covers before slipping out. Your bare feet led you out of your room, and down the hall. 

Hearing a knock on his door, he furrowed his brows. Bucky got up and went to open it. “Doll?” He asked, confused. 

You sagged. “I haven’t been sleeping alone at all lately.” You looked down. “Either Steve or Nat stays with me. I know this is weird, and awkward...feel free to say no…” You rambled. “Ca-can I stay in here with you? Or you come stay in my room?” You asked, stomach in knots. 

Bucky made you look at him. “Of course.” He agreed. “Let’s get back to your room. I’m sure you’re more used to that room, right?” He asked. When you nodded, he gave you a sad smile. “Then let’s get some sleep.”

Tagging: @ilovetaquitosmmmm @vicmc624 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sebastians-love

[nathanbatemanfucker]

hey bestie! for your little blurb thing how about mountains with marc spector? i’m excited to see what you come up with <3

Searching

about this: marc spector x gn!reader. prompt: mountains. cw: meetcute, awkward flirting, coffee mention. wc: 918. not beta’d!!

send me a prompt from this list + a character!

There could be a lot of things wrong with the man in front of you right now. He certainly is much stronger than you, possibly faster. Usually, running into a person on these trails— especially a man— would make you bolt back the way you came. You come here for solitude, are always hopeful for safety. But, there’s something about him that’s different.

Endearing even.

He’s built well, with broad shoulders and hands. He’s holding a map, his thick eyebrows furrowed together as he attempts to read it. His full mouth is moving, like he’s whispering to himself, talking through where he is. He looks so incredibly serious— not to mention handsome— but even so, something about him seems calm. Gentle.

As you wonder how to approach him you shift slightly, and he looks up at the sound of your sneakers scraping together. All of that gentleness is overflowing in his deep brown eyes, and it sends a round of butterflies through your stomach.

The two of you simply stare at each other, like two startled animals. When you think about it…that’s exactly what you are. You smile at him sheepishly but still, your mouth moves to say nothing. You think he tries to smile back, though it seems he’s a little out of practice. It makes you curious, and a little sad.

“Hi,” He says finally, awkwardly. His voice is much softer than you anticipated even with your kind conceptions about him. It’s sweet.

You clear your throat, twisting your hands together, “Hi. First timer?”

He grimaces, “That obvious?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with a map on these trails.”

He gestures around with one of his hands, the softest edge of playfulness in his voice, “Everyone just knows where to go, huh?”

You grin, shrugging, “Something like that. You aren’t from around here I imagine?”

“No. Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home,” You murmur curiously.

He shrugs, his eyes going past you as if he’s thinking about something. Then he says, “Home is where you make it.”

Humming softly in agreement, you take another step toward him. “Want some help?”

Marc hesitates but then your smile widens, head tilting in encouragement. He sniffs, nodding, “If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Where are you trying to go?” You ask, coming to stand beside him to take a look at his map.

“If I’m reading this right, there’s supposed to be a coffee cart about 10-15 minutes from here.”

“Yeah, here,” You agree softly, pointing to the landmark on the map. “It gets a little convoluted around this part with all the different shoot-offs. I was headed that way, I can just walk with you.”

Marc looks up from the map to glance over at you, his cheeks tinging a soft pink at your offer. It’s been a long time since he’s been interested in anyone, and though he doesn’t expect this to go anywhere his heart flutters in his chest. So far removed from any action that just a stranger simply asking to help has his palms sweaty— Steven and Jake will never let him hear the end of this.

“Sure. Yeah. I’d appreciate that,” He nods, quickly folding up the map.

You and Marc start the correct way, exchanging names as you put one foot in front of the other. You point out how confusing it can be to pick the right path as you all pass a bunch of off-shooting trails. It makes Marc feel a little better about being turned around, though your kindness has been helpful in batting away his shame.

The walk flies by, conversation coming much more easily than either of you anticipated. Marc is reluctant to let you go, wishing that the coffee cart would materialize a mile away. There are few patrons in line, waiting to order so you both linger— you’re not quite ready to end your time with him either.

“Uh, thanks for helping out there, usually I’m not so turned around,” He says after a few beats of silence.

“Hey, no problem. If you keep heading this way you should make it back to the beginning of the park.”

“Right, yeah. Thanks,” He holds out his hand to you.

“It was really nice to meet you, Marc,” You say earnestly, shaking his hand firmly— it’s warm, a little calloused, fits perfectly in yours.

“Yeah, you too,” He says, and he means it. For the first time in a long time, Marc is content to interact with someone other than his alters. It feels like a breath of fresh air.

You give him a genuine smile despite your disappointment in him not asking you to join him, the tiniest wave before you start back the way you two came from. He watches you, watches as the first person to make him really feel something in ages starts to walk away from him.

This whole hiking though the mountains, getting in touch with nature thing was part of his soul searching after everything. And though he hadn’t been completely sure what he was going to find when he stepped onto this trail that much is clear now.

“Could I buy you a cup of coffee? You drink coffee don’t you?” He calls after you before you can get too far.

You let out a breath you don’t realize you were holding in then, turn back toward him, the smile on your face returning. Nodding softly you call back, “Yeah, Marc, I drink coffee.”

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Previous chapter

Astarion x F!OC

Dawn of Love

Chapter 6: Empire Now

AO3 LINK

Aura meets a charming stranger.

Word count: 2.4k

Thank you Janna for beta reading <3

TRIGGERS: first time/loss of virginity, Soft!Astarion, vaginal fingering, oral sex (F!R), PiV sex, hurt.

----

I was sitting at the Blushing Mermaid even though it was already quite late feeling victorious. I had just won a card game against a dragonborn, who now muttered curses under his breath. His heavy-scaled hand slapped the table in frustration

“Are you sure you want to play another round?” I batted my eyes.

“Hells…I am not going to lose this one. I don’t lose to stupid girls” he shook his head.

Great. After this game I will go back home.

“Excuse me, shall I join you?” a smooth voice purred behind my back.

I turned to look at a pair of two brightly shining red eyes. Like rubies. 

“Of course you shall, welcome” I smiled and offered the seat next to me.

An elf man sat down and I dealt him his cards.

“I must warn you, I am determined to win this round” the dragonborn grinned.

“And I must warn you, that I am very bad at these games” the man next to me purred.

I looked at him. His curly silver hair fell in front of his face just a bit. He had a white flannel shirt on. He was actually quite handsome, possibly my age. 

“It’s your turn, darling” his said, his voice dripping with velvety mischief.

I looked at the cards.

“Oh yes, forgive me, I got lost in thoughts” I smiled and continued playing.

After a few turns I understood there were two elves trying to cheat the game and one dragonborn who was losing his scales over the fact that he was, once again, defeated.

“I am out, I fucking hate this game” the dragonborn muttered and left the table leaving me alone with the man.

I looked at my hand.

“I guess you have won, sir” I sighed, not entirely disappointed. 

The man had an annoyingly smug smile on his face.

“Perhaps if you spent less time admiring me, you might’ve won yourself” he shrugged.

I opened my mouth.

“Excuse me?!” I asked, shocked at his audacity.

“Tell me I’m wrong, darling?” he smirked, raising a brow.

I closed my mouth.

“I thought so. Now come on, let me buy you a drink. You may have lost, but you cheat quite charmingly” he smiled.

After two drinks I was giggling at the corner table with my new friend.

“Can you believe that? Me? To ride a dragon” I laughed with tears in my eyes.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You? Riding a dragon? No, that would be disastrous” he smiled.

I smiled. We exchanged looks. Soft, lingering looks. There were still a few hours before the sun would start to rise and I’d have to sneak back home. But I don’t want this to end. Not yet. I could feel my heart beat louder and quicker. Why does this man suddenly look…so kissable? 

I closed my eyes and quickly placed a kiss on his cheek.

I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me before he leaned closer and pressed his lips on my lips.

So this is what it feels like to kiss someone?

He kissed me slowly while wrapping his arms around my head and waist. I could feel something unfamiliar stir inside me, almost like a burn, but lower than ever before.

The kisses became even deeper, messier and the burn under my stomach got stronger.

Suddenly the man stood up and gave me his hand.

“Come, let’s go somewhere more private”

He closed the door behind him. We were upstairs in a small room that had a bed in the middle of it. I sat down and looked at the man.

“How do you want me?” he purred and started to unbutton his shirt. 

I opened my mouth as his figure was revealed. He looked like a statue, a painting, like the finest art piece ever made.

“I…I…” I started to stammer suddenly, unsure of what he meant by the question.

He pushed me down onto the bed and started kissing my neck with a slow precision and opening my tunic. 

“Well?” he purred.

As he removed my tunic I could feel something hard grind between my legs which made my whole body shake. A sound left my mouth I didn’t know I could make, almost like…a cry?

“I…” I closed my eyes and opened my mouth.

“How do you like to be fucked, darling?” he whispered into my ear.

My eyes flew open.

“I haven’t-” I started to say before the man jumped off of me.

“You haven’t had sex?!” he asked, shocked.

I sat up quickly, covering myself with my arms, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

“I…I didn’t know this was going to be that” I said quietly.

He shook his head.

“How in the hells is that possible?” he asked, still shocked.

I shrugged.

“I just…my parents never let me see anyone. Of course I know what sex is but I…didn’t know it starts with all that” I said. “I didn’t know it would feel like…this” I added blushing.

He looked at me for a bit and started to smile slightly.

“Like…what?” he said quietly, raising a brow.

I slowly let down my arms and smiled.

“Amazing” I purred.

“Oh really?” he started to slowly smirk again.

“Mhm” I nodded and laid down.

He slowly and gently got on top of me and kissed my lips.

“Would you like me to show you something?” he whispered.

I nodded and kissed him.

“Have you ever…touched yourself?” he asked gently.

I looked at him and blinked.

“It’s okay, let’s go slowly, tell me if you want to go slower or stop” he said.

I nodded smiling.

He kissed my neck once again.

I opened my mouth a bit and gasped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Yes” I whispered.

He kept on kissing my neck and I could feel his hand sneaking down my body to caress my breasts. I smiled at the sensations until I felt him gently pinch my other nipple. I gasped and looked at him.

“Too much?” he asked.

I blinked for a few times.

“Can you do it again?” I whispered.

He smiled and pinched the nipple a bit harder. I gasped louder and bit my lower lip. 

“Want to continue?” he smiled.

I nodded my eyes closed.

His hand moved once again lower and stopped right under my stomach where my leggings started.

I looked at him and felt that his hand was getting close to the place where the burning was waiting.

He watched me as he slipped his hand under the fabric. My heart felt like it could pound out of my chest.

He slowly stroked me with his fingers. I tilted my head back. It felt truly amazing. Suddenly he slid a finger inside me. I opened my mouth and gasped. He started pumping the finger slowly in and out of me and I kissed him.

“Do you want another one in?” he smiled.

I bit my lip and nodded.

He inserted another finger to join the first one and I held him by his bicep.

“That…that…” I gasped my eyes closed.

“Feels good?” he purred.

“Feels incredible” I moaned.

The man stopped and slid his fingers out of me.

“What? Why’d you stop?” I asked confused.

He chuckled.

“Eager for more? I can make it feel even better” he smiled and positioned himself in front of me.

I watched him as he took off my leggings and underpants.

“Relax and enjoy” he whispered and he lowered his face in between my legs and ran his tongue across my folds. “You are beautiful” he purred. 

Gods.

I bucked my hips to meet his agonizingly slow tongue. Then he started to suck the little nub of nerves, which made my eyes roll into the back of my head.

“Gods” I gasped as my hand flew to grip his hair.

“You are doing so well” the man purred in between sucking.

I felt his fingers starting to outline my folds before he pushed two of them inside. I bit my lip as hard as I could. His tongue sucked and lapped faster than I thought anyone could while he pumped his fingers curling them deliciously into just the spot that made me see stars.

“Hells below” I moaned. I glared at the white haired elf in between my legs looking at me with his lustful eyes that shined like two giant red rubies. 

Then I felt as if a string of pressure had snapped in my lower abdomen and I moaned loud enough to the whole tavern to hear, legs shaking. The man slowed down his movements and lapped the hot gush of fluids that dripped down my thigh.

“So…how was that?” the man smiled and returned to kiss my lips.

I tried to breathe, eyes closed, head feeling incredibly empty. It’s like I was not in this world anymore. 

“That was…amazing” I smiled.

“Do you want to…continue?” he asked carefully.

I sat up and looked at him, raising a brow.

“Is there more?” I asked confused.

He smiled and nodded.

“There is” he purred.

My smile got wider.

“Show me” I whispered.

His fingers returned slowly to caress my folds. I could feel I was even more sensitive this time. I cried out softly and after a while of him circling his fingers around the most sensitive part I started to buck my hips to make the sensation more intense. He slowed down and stopped again, but before I could say anything he started to open his breechers.

“This might hurt a bit, so tell me if you are uncomfortable” he whispered.

I nodded and closed my eyes trying to relax my body under him. I could feel him slip his fingers inside me again, pumping them in and out a few times and then replacing his fingers with something bigger. I winced in pain and grabbed his bicep.

“Just breathe and relax, you are doing so well” he whispered and kissed my lips.

I nodded and breathed deeply, and after a few beats I could feel the pain easing.

“Shall I continue?” he asked quietly.

I smiled slightly and kissed him.

“Please do” I whispered.

He started moving slowly in and out of me. I could feel my muscles relax around him, and soon the pace quickened, which started to feel even better.

He gently took my right hand and kissed the fingers while still moving in a slow rhythm.

“Use these fingers to touch the same area I did before, the one that made you feel exquisite” he said softly.

I bit my lip and nodded.

I placed my fingers back to the same place he had touched and licked trying to remember what he did. I drew slow circles on the soft flesh and closed my eyes. Gods. I started drawing tinier, quicker circles, which made my whole body scream for more.

“Hells below” the man cursed quietly into my ear. I could feel he was feeling good too from the way his breath quickened and he started to cry out the same way I did.

And there we were.

Moving in a tantalizing rhythm making beautiful sounds while holding onto each other.

Soon I could feel the wave of ecstasy getting closer, my fingers working harder, faster and at the same time his pace quickened. We both cried out loudly and stopped moving at the same time.

I catched my breath and opened my eyes to see him lying on top of me, eyes closed.

“You felt the same way, didn’t you?” I smiled.

“I did” he whispered.

“Do you think…do you think I could become…” I started to ask but he shook his head.

“It’s not possible” he said and got up.

I nodded. Well at least I don’t have to tell my parents any news.

He turned his back to me and started to dress up. I got out of the bed too and picked my tunic up. 

Suddenly the man turned around.

“Let me take you somewhere” he purred.

I looked at him confused.

“Right now?” I asked.

“Yes, right now” he smirked.

I nodded and dressed up quickly. When I was done he took my hand pulling me closer and kissed me deeply.

“Didn’t you get enough” I giggled surprised.

“Never” he smirked and kissed my neck.

Maybe he wants to go somewhere else, for example his own home. I definitely still have time for it before the sun rises.

He led me downstairs, turning to give me a lingering kiss every now and then. I giggled and looked at the quiet tavern. A few drunken people sitting alone almost falling asleep. The bartender looked at us and rolled his eyes. He is just jealous.

We walked quickly through the dark streets. The man held my hand tightly as he glanced around the corners and behind us almost like he was making sure we weren't followed

After walking for what felt like an eternity, we stopped in front of a big gate that led into a huge castle. I looked at him quietly. The sky had started to show a hint of red, as the sun was almost starting to rise.

“Where are we?” I asked in anticipation, smiling widely. “Is this your home? I didn't know you lived in a castle?” I giggled.

He looked at me quietly.

Suddenly something felt weird in his presence. As if he was unsure what to do next.

“Is everything alright?” I asked and placed my hand on his cheek. “If you don't want to sleep with me again tonight, I understand, you must be very tired. We can see each other some other day” I smiled. 

He stared at me quietly.

I sighed and felt a clump of sadness gather inside me.

“You don't want to see me again” I smiled sadly. “This is our goodbye, isn't it?” 

He shook his head.

“I…this was a mistake. I shouldn't have led you here” he whispered.

I smiled with tears in my eyes.

“It’s okay, I understand. Silly of me to think this could actually lead to something” I tried my best to keep myself from crying.

He sighed and pulled a scroll out of his pocket.

“I am sorry” he said before muttering something.

The scroll disappeared and I looked at him blinking a few times. Who is this man?

“Thank you. I hope I never forget you, Aurora” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on my lips before disappearing behind the gate.

How does that man know my name? And what is this place and how did I get here?

I turned around to see the sun casting its first stream of light around the land.

I usually miss the dawn.

[adnauseum11]

SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection. 

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly. 

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.    

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.  

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.  

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.  

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.   

Taglist: @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

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[aboutcustardcreams]

The right thing

Had a lot of fun writing this chapter, despite it being quite angsty. What can I say? I love angsty, I feed on angst.

The Doctor is gentle in his movements, so gentle, you struggle to believe he is touching you. You’re quiet, your head’s throbbing, your lip burns, and your eyes are, well, as he likes to put it, annoyingly inflating. 

You hate that his expression is devoid of its usual levity and you know, it’s only your fault. With one hand holding your chin, he lifts your face a bit for him to take a proper look at your swollen lip, now partially split on the top. You follow his movements, slightly shivering when the cloth in his other hand, damp with disinfectant, taps it. Gentle, yet pungent. 

You hiss, but force yourself not to pull away, your eyes fall shut, hands clutching. He’s only trying to help you. You shouldn’t act childish, it’s just a mere cut he is trying to disinfect. A tear slips from your cheek, it’s not much about the pain, if you’re honest. That too, obviously, because that fist in the face had clouded your vision for a moment, and sent a pang of pain through you. Something never felt before. 

It’s the Doctor, startled by your reaction, to withdraw his hand for a second, asking you for the umpteenth time if you’re alright. You nod, because you are. You really are. But you’re worried, because someone else is missing there, so you can’t quite relax, not until she comes back to you and talks to you, explains things to you. 

“This shouldn't have happened,” to you, he meant. “I’m sorry we let this happen.”

“No.” You shake your head and immediately reach out to hold his wrist. They didn’t let anything happen. It was your idea to split up and wander off like that, having some fun among the charts’ markets, “hey, I mean it. No.”

He sighs softly and his eyes flick from your eyes to your hands, and that allows him to see the scratches and the bluish bruises caused by the rope that had tightened your wrists. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” you insist, with unwavering conviction. “It’s nobody’s fault there are nasty people everywhere we go,” you try to lighten the mood, offering him a small smile, as you tilt your head to meet his eyes. 

He hums, his lips pressed in a thin line, posture stiff and pensive. You gently nudge his shoulder, giving him a look, that specific look, and he chuckles in anticipation, “you’ll listen to me, you daft old man. That’s not up for debate.” 

Hearing the sound of his partial cheerful chuckle causes your eyes, if possible to ‘inflate’ even more. The emotion shining in his crystal eyes, causes tiny stars to sparkle at the corners of yours. Thing is, you like to pretend you aren’t so fragile compared to them. That if you act a certain way, you’ll feel stronger, in control, and why not, even worthy to be close to them. But in moments like these, you realize how much responsibility they carry on their shoulders, unfairly, making you feel nothing but a burden. 

“I let you down, both you and Missy, didn’t I?” you mutter sadly, his hand stops in mid-air, before he puts away the cloth and looks at you as if you were suddenly speaking a language he knew nothing about.

When you spotted them in the crowd, a wave of hope and determination had flashed through you, and without much thinking, you did what you often do, called their names. 

The man had a hand upon your shoulder, squeezing not so gently, as he guided you through the crowd, showing you off as if you were some sort of trophy. When you tried to jerk from his tight grip, and called both Missy and the Doctor, he didn’t like that. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”, he hissed in your ear. 

“Let me go–”, you fought, wriggling from him and the rope he was pulling. 

He, then, grabbed a tuft of your hair and before you could protest, he pulled and pulled until your head was forced to go backwards. You bent on your knees and screamed, feeling like he was ripping your hair from your scalp. 

“You’re in no position to give orders”, he chuckled in response. 

Missy and the Doctor’s faces paled even before locking eyes with you. They heard your scream, and their hearts stopped for a moment. 

If looks could kill, Missy would have that man holding you hostage vaporized on the spot. The Doctor saw you second, his features hardened, as he pulled out his sonic out of his coat. 

“What in the world is going on?”, he wondered out loud, before calling out your name. 

Missy gritted her teeth, before muttering, “someone is desperate to end their life,” her voice firm and low, the device was already in hand, fingers trembling, in anticipation, eager to push the buttons. 

“Missy, wait–” the Doctor went after a very angry Time Lady, walking briskly towards you.  

The Doctor looks at you as if you’re actually gone mad. Your tears can’t be controlled anymore, he sees the frown as you let them go, silent and persistent. Yet you’re still so beautiful, even when you cry and your face scrunches up and your chin wobbles, you’re one of the most beautiful creatures in the whole universe.

“Whatever do you mean by that?”, he asks, dumbfounded. “You could never let us down–”

You rub the tip of your nose with the back of your hand as you sniffle, “But I did,” you say, holding your bottom lip in between your teeth, as you seek for the right words to speak your heart, “I wanted to be brave, stand tall with dignity like you always do. And the crazy thing is, I’d do it again… because–” you trail, a small smile tugs at your lips, bitter and hopeless. The Doctor’s eyes never leave yours, he places both hands upon your shoulders to steady you, because you’re shivering, “It’s what decent people do. It’s what you do every single day, isn’t it?”

He runs a hand to your cheek and thinks of the words you said. You were the reason why he put up with human beings. Just like once Clara had been and those previous companions that left a mark on him. You were admirable, kind, and you always acted in the name of the greater good. You were his greatest pride. 

“You didn’t hurt me or Missy, you could never do that. Quite the opposite in fact,” your brows knit in a frown, trying to catch something, a glimpse of lie within his words. Time Lords lie, after all. He told you that. “Thing with me is, brave people scare me. They stop in front of nothing to do what’s right. One would be surprised to find out that among humans, there are so many brave souls, reckless one would say, Missy would say– they put their lives in danger, fully knowing how easily they can be bent,” the wrinkles around his eyes widen as the frown deepens. His eyes are red and puffy, and you gently hush him, tilt your head to the side and reach out a hand to cup his cheek. He isn’t lying to you, you see the honesty in his eyes, hurting him, hurting you. 

“You’re crying…” you state and lean closer to him. His breath crashes against your face as you do so. 

“I’m just tired of losing people…”

“You’re not going to lose me, well not until I’m gray and wrinkly like you,” you state confidently, curling your lips a bit. It hurts to stretch them, but you wouldn’t deprive him of your smiles. Normally he would respond in kind to your teasing, yet not this time. He chuckles and rolls his eyes. The thought of you dying when old still hurts, but he didn’t voice that out loud. 

“I can hurt, but that’s part of life. You can’t protect me from everything and you shouldn’t either… Don’t let this responsibility consume you–”, before he can protest, cause you see he wants to say something about it, you continue both firmly and softly, “I know you feel like you have a duty of care, but you shouldn’t feel that way. We are a family, are we not? You do your best, so do Missy and I. You have my back, but I want to be able to have yours too.” 

He flattens his lips and looks up at you, softening his features. You were right, to an extent at least. 

“She feels that too, you know–”, he mutters, eyes twinkling a bit. You frown and wait for him to continue, “the duty of care, I mean.”

“That’s why I’m worried about her,” you later add, pensive. Your eyes flicker from him to the TARDIS’ door, impatiently waiting for it to burst open. “The way she acted before, how her eyes flashed, I can’t help but have a bad feeling about this. Maybe– I don’t know, we shouldn’t have left her out there.” 

He sighs and follows your gaze. It had been a while now, she should have been back. He swallows a lump forming in his throat, his eyes can’t deny the fact that he had been disappointed by her harsh words and behaviors, yet a part of him believed, hoped, she wouldn’t do anything stupid. That a voice inside her head, maybe yours, would have helped come to her senses. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and I understand your concerns. But if we don’t give her the benefit of the doubt, we will never know how far she can get.” 

You blink softly, and bow your head, your fingers tap the corner of your eyes, feeling them swelling with tears once again. He’s right, and you feel a bit foolish because you trust Missy. Despite what you saw, the darkness shielding her eyes, you trusted her with your life. 

“Let her go this instant,” she glared, nostrils flaring with rage. As his gaze shifted towards her, he spotted the device in her hand, having no idea what it was for, a deep frown crept on his features. 

“She’s expensive, this one. And I only accept dinars, so whatever that is, not interested.”

She laughs softly, slightly shaking her head while doing so. “I’m not here to negotiate on the price, you silly sausage.” There’s no amusement in her voice, despite the way she is smiling. You pull yourself up, and your eyes flick from her to the Doctor, alternatively. While one looks at you with fondness and concern the other, the Time Lady has yet to lock eyes with you.

“I’m here to end your life,” she points the device at him, the corner of her lip curling upward, not in a smile but in a devilishly smirk. 

“Missy, don’t–”, you start, almost in a plea. You take a step forward, lifting your hands in midair while doing so. The rope was really starting to hurt your skin, but you pushed the pain aside, desperate to meet Missy’s eyes. You needed her to look at you, to see you. 

The man froze, fear gripping over his body for a second, only to be discarded with a nervous chuckle. He pulled you by your clothes, and in the attempt to free yourself from his grip, you kicked him in the knee, making him grunt in pain and bend slightly. “I said, and quote, hands off!”, you snarl to his face, and for a moment, a very brief moment, you believe it’s all over, that he will let you go, but he doesn’t.

Missy’s eyes dart towards you, and a hum escapes her lips, as if she had been pleased to see you fight like that. She reaches out a hand for you to take, but before you can turn around again, the man pulls the rope that still binded your wrists, so quickly and unexpectedly, you find yourself being spinned around to face him. It happens all so quickly, you have barely the time to register the pain that spreads throughout your face. You fell on your knees, let out a muffled sound, a mix between a cry and a choked sob. His knuckles met your lip and part of your cheek. It burnt so much.

Missy screamed your name, eyes open wide in shock and disbelief, before those same emotions shifted into something dangerous.

“Oi! You shouldn’t have done that–” Pulling out his sonic, the Doctor sends a wave of electricity right through your assaulter, not enough to kill, but enough to destabilize him. 

You gasp and crawl away from him, breathing heavily as you feel droplets of blood fall from your face, wetting your lips. The Doc catches you and pulls you in his arms. You squeeze so tight, and let out a sigh of relief, as you struggle to keep from crying. The look of horror in his face when reluctantly pulls away to take a look at your face, causes an ache in your heart.

“Oh,” he breathes, his fingers trembling as he cups your cheeks, his thumbs wipe away some of the fresh blood wetting your bottom lip and chin. “Are you alright?”, he asks with a certain urgency and panic in his tone. You simply nod, then lift your wrists, “please, just take these off–”, you ask so nicely, your voice barely above a whisper. It breaks his hearts even more. 

“S-sure,” he stutters, the Doctor never stutters. 

Missy is there, but not really. After having checked you’re safe with the Doctor, her eyes darted again towards the man that had the guts to hurt you, her puppet, her companion, her friend– 

You mutter a fleebile thank you, then turn towards Missy. You see her, but not so clearly if you’re honest. Your head is hazy, and your vision is covered with tiny stars. Probably due to the bump. You say her name, but she doesn’t turn around. She hears you but doesn’t spill a word. Her head can’t wipe off the image of his nasty fingers treating you as if you had been a rag doll for his enjoyment. Her hearts thumped plainfully, echoing inside her throat and ears. The Doctor recognized in her frigid posture, a hatred eager to break free. 

“Missy, let’s go-”, it goes on deaf ears. 

“Take her to the TARDIS,” she mutters in return, without even looking at him. 

You shake your head and with no little effort, you stumble towards her. Your head hurts, and you’re still bleeding, but you don’t care. When you place a hand upon her arm, she flinches just for a moment, eyes landing on your fingers only to rise up to your wrist. 

“Missy, you too,” you didn’t mean to beg, yet it sounded like a plea. “The three of us.”

“I’ll catch up in a moment,” her voice comes up in a faint whisper, and finally it sounds softer, like dear old Missy, your Missy. However, there’s still something wrong with her. How do you know? Because she still has to meet your eyes. 

“You don’t have to do this,” it’s the Doctor speaking now, and when she laughs, low and bitter, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You get a taste of your blood inside your mouth and you wince at the bitterness of it. 

“You’re right, I don’t have to do this,” she says peevishly, “But I want to.”

“No,” she ignores you, her eyes patiently waiting for the man to regain consciousness only to cause him greater pain, the same she had felt the moment he hurt you. 

“Did you hear me, I said no!”, you spat, tugging at her sleeve. 

The device beeps in her hand and you stumble backwards, startled by the sudden sound. You don’t know what it means. Maybe it’s recharging? Had she activated it to shoot? You hear the man grunt and for a brief second, you turn towards him, worry in your eyes. 

You shake your head and press your lips together. 

“Please–”, you try to grab her device, and only then, she looks at you in a way she has never done before. With anger. The Doctor sees the look of horror in your face, how your mouth falls agape, and the hurt in your heart overcomes that of your face and wrists. He squeezes your shoulders to give you some sort of comfort, but you’re too scared, too confused. Tears stream free down your face, Missy plays as if she doesn’t care. 

“I won’t say it again,” her eyes are back on the man, slowly regaining consciousness. You shake your head, a choked ‘no’ escaping your mouth again. “TARDIS now. Do as you’re told.”

The Doctor stood before her, holding your very shaking hand in his. You stop looking at her, you can’t, and the Doc takes the opportunity to send her a message telepathically, “Think carefully about your priorities. Don’t break her heart for something so vile as revenge.”

You didn’t spot the single tear slipping from her eye. 

“She looked at me like she hated me,” you mutter weakly. 

He smiles and scoffs a bit, lightly grasping the tip of your nose between his fingers, “Oh, you’re so wrong about that, silly human,” you crack a small smile, despite the sadness in your heart. When the TARDIS’ doors finally burst open, you flick your eyes towards Missy. The Doctor turns around as well, silently praying she did the right thing.