#been on repeat for the last month. i tried to be good am i no good am i no good....

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

[oysterie]

found you just to tell you that i made it real far and that i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did while you were torn apart i would still wait w you there dont think about it too hard or youll never sleep a wink at night again dont worry abt me and these green eyes mama just know that i love youuu and ill see you when you get here....

[laligraves]

three a.m.

priest!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.4k summary: You seek guidance from Father Miller after you find your fiancé cheating. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, NSFW, joel can speak spanish, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading, reader can sit on Joel's lap (he's a big, strong man), no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, fingering, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, slight power imbalance (joel is a priest), all consensual

a/n: my first joel miller fic 🤠🫣

The incessant knocking wakes him up from his sleep. Joel swipes at his eyes, turning his head to peer at the digital clock on his nightstand. 

“Three in the mornin’?” he groans. “¿Quién será?” [who could it be?]

He throws off the blanket and stands from the bed, walking through the hallway towards the side door. The rain hits the windows hard, echoing throughout the empty church.

Joel takes a look through the peephole and swallows hard once he sees who stands on the other side. He watches as you lift your hand and knock on the door again. You’re shivering, only wearing a short dress that's soaked in rain water. 

“Sweetheart, what’re you doin’ out here at this time of night?” he asks in shock once he swings open the door. 

Joel catches you before you can fall as you stumble inside, wrapping his arms around you at the sound of your cries. 

“Father Miller, I just–I didn’t know where to go or what to do,” you stammer, “Nicolas cheated again! He said–he said I was failing him as a woman.” 

Joel can barely understand the last sentence. Your voice cracks, fat tears rolling down your face and mixing with the rain drops. Joel gently shushes you and brings you to his bedroom. 

He knows he shouldn’t. It crosses a boundary that can get him excommunicated from the church if anyone were to find out. But it’s the only room with a functioning heater and towels to get you warm. 

His heart hammers against his chest and his hands shake slightly as he sits you down on the couch. He’s angry, feeling a surge of violence that he hasn’t felt in years. 

That idiot fiance of yours has been more trouble than he’s worth. Having you move across the country, away from all your friends and family, and keeping you isolated in this tiny town. 

You’ve tried to build a community here. Every Sunday you sit in the second pew towards the far left and attend every bible session to bake sale the church has to offer.

Nicolas is more interested in sleeping with half the town while his beautiful fiance tries to build a home and a future. 

It’s not Joel’s place to tell you to leave him. If anything, he should be offering his services to make you a better, more understanding future wife. At least that’s what the church would want. The very idea makes his stomach churn. 

He gave an oath to the priesthood. This would be his life until his last breath. But the moment he laid eyes on you, Joel wondered if God had sent him a test. 

“What am I supposed to do?” your small voice breaks through his thoughts. “I left everything for him. I’m making this place my home–our home. And he’s more interested in chasing girls than building a life with me.” 

Joel sits next to you, bringing up a towel to wipe at your wet face. The scent of fresh rain and your perfume makes him dizzy. 

“Do you remember the first time you told me about the problems you two were havin’?” 

You give a jerky nod. “Five months ago, Father.” 

“Five months ago,” Joel repeats. “Your wedding is 3 months away, mi niña. Do you think he has any plans on changing?” [my girl]

Tears well up in your eyes. It hurts Joel to hurt you like this. Fuck this place, fuck this oath, he thinks. Joel will not allow this man to ruin your life. Even if it means you return back home and he loses your presence in this church forever. 

“N–no, I don’t think he’s going to change,” you whisper. 

“I think it's time for you to take a good look at what the future might bring. Do you want to raise a family with this man? Do you want this man as the father of your children?” 

Joel wraps his arms around your trembling frame as you begin to cry again. Your body shakes from the sobs and your tears wet his sleep shirt. His hands glide up and down your shoulders, warming your body. 

He’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually your tears cease. You pull back slightly and look up at him. He takes a quick glance at your glassy eyes and down to your puffy lips. 

“I haven’t been completely honest,” you whisper. “There–there’s another reason why Nicolas is angry all the time.” 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” 

“He thinks… he thinks I spend too much time with you–with the church,” you stammer. “He’s got this idea that I–that I have some sort of… infatuation with you.” 

“It’s normal for men to feel jealousy. That’s why we must work to–” 

“He’s not wrong.” 

You interrupt Joel, taking the opportunity to glance at his lips. Joel realizes just how close you two are on the couch. You’re at his side, his arms still wrapped around you and your faces only inches away from one another. 

“Mi…” Joel whispers, “mi niña, you’re confused. You’re hurt. You don’t know what you’re saying–” 

You're quick to stand from the couch and throw off the towel. Joel thinks you’re going to agree, that you’re going to grab your things and walk out from his bedroom before he decides to do something stupid. 

But you simply kick off your shoes and straddle his lap. Your tiny dress rides up the moment you sit down. His body jolts from the shock but you’re quick at grabbing his hands to place them on your thighs. 

“I made up my mind, Father,” you murmur, “I’m breaking up with Nicolas. And I’m moving back home.” 

His heart pinches at your words. You’re leaving. 

“I think that’s a good idea–” 

You slide your hips forward, placing your pussy right over his cock. Joel chokes on the rest of his words, suddenly aware of the clothes he’s wearing. Only his pajama pants and your panties stand in the way. 

Joel tries to say your name in a stern tone, but you bring your face closer to his and he forgets why he wanted to push you away in the first place. Your lips touch his in a soft kiss. 

He’s gentle at first, cradling your head to keep you in place while he presses his lips on yours. Joel licks at your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue then plunges it inside your mouth the moment you gasp. 

He licks at you, grasping your chin as he tastes you, bites your bottom lip, gives you his tongue to suck on. Your cunt grinds down on his cock in desperate circles and your fingers tug at his hair. 

His cock swells in his pants but he does his best to control himself. Joel can’t remember the last time he came, probably right before he joined the priesthood many years ago. 

Joel yanks down the straps of your dress and latches onto your nipple the moment your tits are bare. Your chest is still slightly cold from the rain but he uses his mouth to warm you up. 

You throw your head back and whimper as he bites and sucks at your tits. He’s ravenous, wishing he could eat you alive from how soft and plump you are in his mouth. 

Joel keeps one hand on your hips to keep you steady in his lap but uses the other to slide into your panties. He’s not sure who moans first. You, at the feel of his fingers swiping through the heat of your cunt, or him at how slick you are. 

“Oh God,” you whimper. 

He lands a quick slap to your ass with his other hand. 

“No blasfemes, niña,” he growls. [Don’t blaspheme, girl]

“I’m so–sorry,” you whimper, grinding down on his hand that continues to tease your slit.

“Stand up,” he orders. 

You quickly follow his command, shivering slightly from the excitement. 

“I want you,” he whispers, “since the first– fuck, I–I won’t do anything more unless you say you want this.” 

“I do, Father–” 

“Joel, just Joel,” he corrects you, wanting to hear you say his name.

“I want this, Joel,” you whisper. “Whatever you give me.” 

He tries not to show any reaction to how you whisper his name, choosing instead to watch as you strip. He drinks in the sight of your naked body. You're beautiful, way too perfect for any man. 

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, gliding his hand from over your breasts to your tummy. “Get on the bed, I want a taste of that pretty pussy.” 

You follow his orders and wait, ass up face down on the bed. He yanks off his pajamas and before he can get on his knees to worship your cunt, Joel glances at the bible on his nightstand. 

Perdóname, Señor. I can’t–I won’t stop this, he prays silently. Have I not given my entire life to this church? Do I not deserve this? [Forgive me, Lord] 

Your cunt glistens in the dim light. Your slick trails down your thighs, making a sticky mess. Joel’s mouth waters at the sight and before he knows it, he’s licking through your folds. 

“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” Joel murmurs as he runs a finger up your thigh. “Wet little cunt just f’me, ain’t it?” 

“Just for you, Joel,” you whimper, voice muffled by the blanket. 

He buries his mouth into your pussy. Joel drinks, licks and consumes the essence that drips from you. It’s everything he imagined and more. 

In his years of devotion, he’s never come close to breaking. There’s been countless women–single, married, widowed–who throw themselves at him.

But he’s never been interested. He’s been loyal to the cause and to his word. You’re someone he wasn’t expecting. A temptation wrapped in silk dresses and pretty smiles. 

Joel doesn’t know what this means, what will happen now that he’s broken his oath. He can’t find it in him to care that much. Not when you're screaming his name as he sucks your clit and pushes his finger into your tight cunt. 

Your slick covers his face, practically drowning him from how much he devours you. Joel brings a hand down to squeeze at his erection, trying his best to calm the blood coursing hot through his body. 

“Joel, please,” you cry into the blankets, “I’m so close!” 

He writes his name with the tip of his tongue on your clit, over and over again. He slips a second finger in your cunt and slowly fucks them inside of you. 

You stiffen, then scream out his name as you cum. A rush of sweet wetness gushes from your pussy and covers his face. Joel attacks, drinking and tasting every drop that he can get. 

Your hips grind in small circles on his face until you drop down in a tired heap. Joel doesn’t let you go, following your cunt with his mouth and licking up the slick from between your thighs. It's not until you give him a slight nudge to his head that he stops. 

“Joel," you whimper, almost out of breath, "fuck me, please?” 

How can he say no when you ask so nicely? He stands on shaky legs and tugs at his cock as you flip over onto your back. 

“Need me to fuck you, niña? Need me to fill up that tiny hole?” 

“Please, please, please,” you chant. 

Joel brings your knee up to your chest and positions that angry, red tip of his cock at your entrance. He swipes it through your folds a few times, gathering up the slick and teasing your hole. 

Just when he knows you’re about to pout for more, he plunges in. You gasp, your hands immediately gripping the blankets and your mouth dropping open. Joel stays still, consumed by the tight heat that grips him. 

This is probably the closest thing there is to heaven on earth, he thinks. 

“F–fuck, Joel,” you whine, “you’re–you're stretching me.” 

He leans over, pressing soft kisses on your nose and cheeks while you adjust to his size. With enough strength back in his body, Joel slowly pulls out. When he’s halfway, he thrusts right back in. 

“So perfect,” Joel groans as he picks up the pace, “such a sweet little cunt.” 

He reaches somewhere deep inside of you that has you shaking and whimpering in his hold. You can barely form a sentence, only chanting more and please. He fucks you into the mattress, using you thigh as leverage while he pistons in and out of your cunt. 

You grind down, matching his thrusts and using your inner muscles to grip him tight. Your cockdrunk face and the mess between your thighs makes it difficult for him to focus. 

“¿Te gusta, mi niña?” Joel groans, “Should I finish inside of you? Make you mine?” [you like that, my girl?]

“Yes, yes–oh God, please,” you cry, “please cum inside of me!” 

Joel moves faster, clumsy and harsh in how he fucks you. He folds you practically in half as he meets your mouth in a rough kiss. You're cumming again, tugging at his hair until it stings while your pussy squeezes his length in a bruising grip.

His orgasm catches him by surprise. White heat licks at his spine until it spreads like wildfire through each cell in his body. Joel drops his head into the crook of your neck and repeats your name over and over again. 

He spills deep inside of you, marking every inch of your cunt in his seed. Years of celibacy make this moment so intense that he has no choice but to fill you up with every drop.  

He drops in a sweaty heap right next to you. No words are spoken for the next few moments, only the sound of your breathing and the pitter patter of rain on the glass windows echoes through the room. 

“I guess I should get going–” 

“No,” he interrupts in a rush, “stay. For the night. I’ll take you home in the morning.” 

“What if someone sees?” 

“They won’t,” Joel says, knowing full well there’s a church meeting in just a few hours. “I’ll make sure they don’t.” 

“Okay. I'll stay,” you whisper, already falling asleep. 

He's careful in how he cleans you, not wanting to move you around too much and wake you. He throws the washcloth in the hamper and stretches out next to you. Joel doesn't fall asleep, more content in watching you in his bed.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 4 (Finale) | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After everything fell apart at Rita’s, Azriel is still recovering from the poison, and you give him an ultimatum. Choose between you and Elain. Months of silence ensue, before his choice becomes clear, at last.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of poisoning, attempted sexual assault, illness, death (background characters), arguing, violence, an extraordinarily sassy rhys, but it all ends okay

A/N: If y’all crucified me for this being so late I wouldn’t even blame you…I’m so sorry for the wait but I hope this is a good way to finish off this series, and I am planning on doing maybe like epilogue more about their relationship, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

The entire situation had been a mess, Cassian was pissed off, Azriel was still in Madja’s tent, Nesta and her girls a drunk mess, stumbling home, Feyre dealing with Elain, and you at the House of Wind.

You trained until your body refused to move anymore it was so sore and hurting, and then you slept, ate, and repeated, trying hard just not to think. You didn’t want to think about how Elain had, for some reason, tried to keep Azriel away by poisoning him of all things so he forgot about you, or how she hadn’t even thought about the potential consequences of it.

It made you angry, foolishly angry, that she’d done something to your mate. The bond wasn’t accepted, but it was still there, lying dormant and flaring up at any little thing. You could barely feel any sign of life from his end, and you hated to admit how much that worried you.

But you wouldn’t go check on him, not when he hadn’t cared about you for all those months. Even if Elain had poisoned him, he still chose her over you before that, and he could have her now. He could have his sorry-ass excuse of a partner, the female that poisoned him.

You had been lying in bed, half-asleep, when your door creaked open and you heard heavy footsteps. You were standing up in a second, slightly panicked, before seeing Cassian as he stood, face slightly pleading and serious. He gave a sheepish smile that was strained when he saw you so frantic.

“What could you possibly want at this hour?”

You asked, rubbing your eyes as you let yourself relax into the bed again. For all you knew, he was only up this late for midnight snacks. He moved closer until he was standing beside your bed. He hesitated, swallowing before speaking.

“It’s Az. He’s..he’s sick, Madja says he’ll be alright, but he wants to see you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and he almost winced at that, moving to sit on the bed beside you.

“He doesn’t want to see Elain? Shocking.”

You replied, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your tone. Cassian’s warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, shifting you so you had to look at him. He gave you a begging look.

“I’m not going to try to apologize for him, but even if you’re pissed at him, which I would be too, at least be there for him. You two could smooth things over in the future, but you can’t go back and be there for him if you aren’t now.”

He said, hand leaving you as he got up from the bed, it creaking before springing back up to its normal height, and he walked out of your room. You knew he was right. If you weren’t there for him now, you couldn’t undo that, and he was sure to remember.

With a grumbled sigh, you got up and locked your door, throwing some clothes on, running a brush through your hair, and splashing some water on your face, before begrudgingly walking to the outside Azriel’s room, where he was sure to be. Getting yourself ready, you sighed, before walking in, looking annoyed and pissed, but at least you were there.

Azriel was in his bed, looking just about the same as you’d seen him before. Pale, shaky, sweating, and shivering slightly. He looked sickly, for sure. There was a pile of tonics in the corner, with directions on them, probably from Madja for the shadowsinger. The shadows were agitated but also sickly, slower and thinner than usual, their wispy forms trying to pull at you to take you to him.

His eyes opened as he heard you sit in the armchair next to the bed, watching him with a cool expression, trying to stay neutral but failing as some of your anger bled through. He shifted to his side, blurry hazel eyes peering up at you.

“Y/N-“

He began, his voice slightly raspy, but not like usual. Your sharp voice cut him off.

“Don’t. The only reason I’m here is because your brother guilt-tripped me into it.”

Not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth. His eyes lost some of their intensity as if they’d been expecting that. Right when you were about to speak, the door clicked open again, and you saw Elain peek around the corner, eyes widening when she saw you there, and heard the growl that came from you.

You huffed, standing up.

“You can choose this bitch who tried to poison you, or you can choose your me, not because I’m your mate or any other bullshit, but just for me. Your decision, but I won’t sit here and let myself be misled by an immature Illyrian who doesn’t know what he wants.”

You snapped at him and grabbed Elain’s wrist before she could slip away, yanking her inside and trapping her against the wall. Azriel tried to sit up, clearly alarmed and thinking you were going to hurt her, not to mention his pain and guilt.

“And you… where do I even start?”

You said, and she swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

“Sure, you had some prophecy or something that I would hurt him, but you could’ve told someone instead of almost fucking murdering him! That’s the most selfish thing I’ve seen in a-“

“That is enough.”

Azriel’s voice, weak but still authoritative, spoke. He was leaning against the closest post of his bed, standing somehow, and glaring at you. Elain slipped away before you could stop her, and you vaguely heard her shoes clicking against the hallway floor and some sniffling. She was crying. Good.

“You don’t get to decide what’s enough. She almost killed you.”

“Using poison she got from your room. Why did you even have that?”

He snapped back, and you nearly physically recoiled at that. Still so sassy for someone who nearly died mere days ago.

“I didn’t want it getting into Kier’s hands. Or anyone’s hands, for that matter.”

You hissed back, and his gaze, still a bit clouded but piercing as ever, glared down at you.

“Why not give it to Rhys? Unless you were planning a better use for it involving him.”

That was what made you shut up for a minute and just think. He thought you were trying to poison Rhys?

“What?”

You quotationed, now just genuinely confused and exasperated.

“Don’t act like I’m crazy. You worked closely with Rhys and Kier, your shop is burnt down by one of your biggest investors, and you’re brought to Night Court into the home of the High Lord and his Inner Circle with a vial of the deadliest poison in existence? I’m not an idiot.”

“Right, so you were running away from me because you thought I was trying to murder you, and not because you’re afraid to face your feelings with your mate?”

His reasoning made sense, you were afraid. But there was a reason Kier had burnt down your shop even being one of your biggest investors in it. A reason you hadn’t shared with anyone, not even your family.

“Face it. You’re suspicious.”

He said with a tone of finality, eyes burning into you even as tears welled in your own.

“Fine, you want to know why Kier burnt down my shop, you asshole? It was because I wouldn’t have sex with him. He doesn’t like being told no. And trust me, he had far worse plans with that vial than even Elain.”

You spat out, and Azriel looked genuinely surprised at that, brows furrowing in a temporary look of confusion, eyes softening, before his face hardened again.

“You’re lying.”

He said. Your hands clenched in fists as you looked around the room, finding a bowl of fruit, probably gifted by Feyre as a get-better-soon gift.

You walked over, picked up an orange, and ripping it open, shoved Azriel against the bed and forcefully pushed the orange into his throat, moving his jaw to make him chew it, and even as he gagged, you forced him to swallow it.

The mating bond, having been dormant for so long, flooded back to life now that it was accepted, whether willingly or not. And the first thing you shoved down the bond, was the memory of your truth.

*********************************************************

Business had been slow that day, customers only coming and going for basic pastries and treats that you and your family already had in stock while you made some more for the next day.

Bored out of your mind, you agreed to take the closing shift.

“I’ll be home in 5,”

You had told your older cousin as he’d left, and he’d given a shrug and gone home. At least the closing shift sometimes gave you a view of the town drunks on the streets, which was a little entertaining sometimes.

While wiping down a table, you heard the jingle of keys and the front door opening with the little bell attached to the top and you immediately whirled only to find a drunken Kier sauntering up to you, sly smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here, Kier?”

You asked in as firm a tone as you could manage. He stalked closer until you could feel his hot breath against your neck. He lowly chuckled, and you could smell the alcohol from his breath.

“I only want to play,”

He said, his voice ever so slightly slurred and his hands sliding over to hold your waist as you were backed up against a wall.

“It’s only fair since I’ve been turning a blind eye to your little shop here~”

He said, and panic shot through your veins as his hands slipped under your shirt, his mouth too close to your own. You shoved him off, freezing momentarily as he hit the ground and crumpled before you hopped onto the counter and slid off of it into the kitchen, where you grabbed a knife with shaky hands.

You couldn’t beat him in combat, you knew that, but it was at least comforting to know you had a tiny chance at self-defense.

He stumbled and got to his feet, wobbling over to you, hands on the counters for support as he scowled, glancing down at the knife as if it were just a small bug in his way.

“You know, I’m gonna need another vial soon. Wife’s been getting on my nerves, might need a new one.”

He slurred with a sloppy smirk, and you swallowed, trying to hold the knife steady.

“Get out of my shop.”

You said, trembling. He scoffed, but turned around anyway, walking unsteadily towards the door and falling into it, and as he left, he gave one last drunk scowl and chilling words.

“You’ll regret this.”

*********************************************************

“Enough.”

Azriel said, eyes staring up at you in what seemed like shock and horror combined, a hint of guilt in there too. You only looked down at him, a sort of pissed off and sad “I told you so” in your expression.

You stuck your pointer finger out at him, right beneath his collarbones, where you could feel his heart beating. The bond kept lurching with emotions and thoughts that he tried to hide, to keep locked behind that silent fort he’d built up over the centuries.

“You can make your decision, but I won’t be some damsel in distress waiting for you. It’s me or her, Azriel. Choose wisely.”

You spat, before storming out, only to find Rhys leaning against the wall outside as you slammed the door behind you. He had a raised brow on his face and a slight frown, though the usual smug smile still plastered on.

“What.”

You said, voice stiff as you glared at the High Lord.

“Easy, I’m just an innocent bystander.”

He said, raising his hands in mock innocence. In the months you’d been staying with them, you had learned that Rhysand was anything but innocent or a bystander in most, if not all situations.

“Go on, give your little advice. I know you’re dying to do so.”

You said in an exasperated tone, with a tiny hint of amusement as he smirked, and opened his mouth to speak with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“I think you should both give each other a second chance. Cassian and Nesta hated each other at first, and look at them now! Or, rather, hear them.”

He said, gesturing to the all-too-loud sounds of Nesta and Cassian enjoying their evening in the usual fashion in their room. You cringed, and he chuckled lightly.

“Seriously though, give each other a second chance. Doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it or immediately apologize, but personally, I think you two have some wonderful chemistry. I mean, the way you shoved that orange in his mouth? Spectacular-!”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

You said in a dry but also begrudgingly amused tone. Sometimes you wondered if the High Lord was really a radio host or a carnival director underneath. It would make a lot more sense than him playing the all-powerful but smug High Lord.

“Anytime, my wonderful advice is free of charge.”

He said before he was gone in half a second, winnowing probably, and you realized that he didn’t even live in the House of Wind, and he’d just been eavesdropping for fun, not even by accident.

Bastard.

You walked down the halls, eager to just rot in your bed all day, or something to distract you, when you ran into Mor, who was in a different dress today, red like usual, but it was lighter and airy, not usual for her. You raised a brow.

“Did you go shopping?”

You asked in a knowing tone, and she smiled, her eyes shining with guilt.

“It was on saaale..”

You let out a slight huff of laughter, shaking your head in amusement as you looked at the dress. It was cute, you wouldn’t deny that.

You and Morrigan hadn’t gotten along the best at first, which was quite natural considering her father had murdered more than half of your family, but things had eventually smoothed over.

“At least it’s cute. Better than whatever the hell you call those things you got the the Solstice.”

You said in an amused tone and she made a sound of mock-outrage.

“Such betrayal, when I put so much thought into it, too.”

She said, playfully shaking her head as she strode off into the halls, leaving you alone. Shopping didn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe you could stop by Feyre’s art corner too.

*********************************************************

The next few months had been miserable.

Azriel knew he fucked up. Elain had been completely moved to a different house for the time being and made no effort to contact him after the incident in his room. You were giving him a complete cold shoulder, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Most days, Cassian and Nesta were there to act as a buffer between the two of you, but tonight they were both out on a date, leaving only you, Azriel, and the shadows in the House of Wind.

Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen you scarf your food down so fast. Just another way to get away from him. To pretend he didn’t exist.

He knew he’d said things and implied things that were wrong, so very wrong, but he’d truly believed that you had malicious intentions up until the point where you’d shoved that orange down his throat and forced him to relive what you didn’t want to. Everything made much more sense now. Why you had been so prepared for some sort of raid on the shop, or why you’d grabbed the vial of volucrae first.

He’d been an idiot. Accusing you of trying to kill the High Lord.

His shadows tugged at him, trying to pull him away to fix things.

‘Our mate is hurt. Fix her.’

They would hiss at him, agitated and physically pulling him along. Just this once, he let them. So they would see how useless it was.

You were sitting off the edge of one of the many cliffs near the House of Wind, which made sense, given the sentient home had been built on the top of many mountains. The view was pretty, and almost worth the 10,000 step trek to get up. He still remembered how Feyre had taught you how to winnow the first few days so you didn’t have to suffer through the stairs.

He silently watched for a moment, letting the silence persist even as the shadows pulled him to you, forcing him to sit down next to you. They left him, lurking beneath you and gently inching up your hands. Traitors.

“Y/N,”

He began, his voice careful, ready to back off at any moment if what he said was too much.

“What?”

You asked simply, as if he were nothing more than a bug. That made his temper flare far larger than he should’ve let it. You were the one who had shoved an orange down his throat and accepted the bond, even if not with good intentions. He’d been going insane with all sorts of primal urges and desires he didn’t even know he had anymore, and you just gave a “what?”?

Calm down, he told himself.

“I’m sorry.”

He said. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. It fell short for the way he’d left you alone at the House of Wind with only Cassian and Nesta, or the cruel words he’d spewed to you, or the things he’d accused you of. Not to mention what Elain had made him do. Rhys had shown him, and he’d been disgusted ever since.

“Are you saying that because you really are sorry, or because I’m your mate?”

You asked, finally turning to look at him, eyes stubborn as ever even though you looked like you were about to cry. The sight made his heart ache.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, what I’ve said and done, mate or not.”

He answered truthfully as the shadows crept further along your skin, their whispered touches cold but not uncomfortable. His eyes scanned you, taking in your body language and expression. Every hint of anything was taken in and evaluated because of years of training and practice.

You only sighed, flopping back onto the mossy patch behind you, not caring what bugs might lurk there.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m sorry for being kinda bitchy.”

You begrudgingly said, he only smiled, joining you beside the moss, staring up at the sky. The stars were pretty tonight.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met another female that would shove an orange down my throat.”

He admitted in a slightly sheepish tone, which got a snort of laughter out of you, face scrunching up slightly like it always did when you laughed or smiled. He’d noticed.

Your hand was slowly enveloped by his, replacing the shadows as they wrapped around the both of you, pulling you closer until his wing was also shimmied under your back, curled around you, pulling you against him.

“It was warranted. But, I forgive you.”

You said, and he smiled, head leaning to the left against yours.

“I forgive you, too.”

He then admitted. You sighed, mind already wandering to the countless anxieties that plagued it. The future and all its potential problems.

“What’re we gonna do, Az?”

You asked, glancing over at him. He let out a hum of thought, meeting your gaze with his hazel eyes as he gently smiled.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Tags:

@lilah-asteria

@evangeline-xo

@hayrunnwr

@rcarbo1

@julesvanslutta

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark

@weekendlusting

@evergreenlark

@kdawgiedawg

@olive-main

@acourtofbatboydreams

@thelov3lybookworm

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

[alixra]

away game | paige bueckers

summary- paige is away at a game and calls you.

word count- 1.1k

UConn had just beat Maryland. A much-needed win after a tough loss against NC State.

You hardly knew anything about basketball. But you had found interest in the sport after falling in love with one of its biggest stars: Paige Bueckers. You had been dating her for roughly seven months. And you couldn't be happier.

Her schedule did make things difficult. She almost always had to be on the road for an away game. And if she wasn't, she was either at practice or working out. The two of you found ways to make it work. No matter how much you missed each other.

It had been two hours since the game ended. And you were awaiting a call from Paige. It had become a routine for her to call you every night when she was away. Even if it was for a short period.

Your phone began ringing, and you tried not to squeal in excitement.

"Hi, baby," Paige said as soon as you answered.

"Hi," you said through a smile. "How did your game go?"

"Good, I'm tired."

"You should be. You did amazing," you stated.

Paige's heart fluttered at your praise, "Thank you."

"Of course." You replied, comfortable silence taking over the phone call.

"What are you doing?" Paige asked, breaking the quiet.

"Homework," you groaned, causing her to laugh. "Where are the girls?"

"Oh, they went out. I'm the only one still here."

"Why didn't you go with them?" You questioned.

"I didn't feel like it," she explained. "I had something else on my mind anyway."

"Like what?"

"You," she smiled.

You giggled, glad that she couldn't see the blush on your face. "Oh really?"

"Mmhhmm," she responded proudly.

"I was thinking about you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you whispered, lying on your back.

The atmosphere shifted, going from lighthearted to intense in mere seconds.

"I wanna hear your voice," Paige confessed, her hand resting on her stomach.

"Ok," you smiled. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me how good I did again."

Your grin widened, "You did so good. And you're so amazing and so perfect. And so hot."

Paige smirked, focusing on the last part of your sentence. "I'm so what?" She teased.

"So hot," you repeated, your voice serious compared to her playful one.

Paige cleared her throat, her hand getting close to her pants. "Thank you," she said, her voice huskier than before.

It was silent for a little before you spoke, "Paige."

"Yeah?"

"What's the real reason you didn't go out?" You inquired, knowing it wasn't like the party animal to not want to go out and get wasted.

"You know me too well," she smiled.

"I do," you responded, smirking triumphantly. "Now answer my question," you said firmly, noticing Paige was trying to get you off-topic.

Paige licked her lips, "Because I wish you were here."

"To do what?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words stuck in her throat.

"Come on, Paige. You can tell me."

"I just missed you," she replied stubbornly, slipping her hand underneath her sweatpants.

"Oh yeah?" You asked, picking up on the way her breath hitched out of nowhere.

"Yeah," she responded. Trying to control her shaky breath as she rubbed her clit through her soaked underwear.

"Liar," you stated.

"How am I a liar?" She replied, keeping up the innocent act.

"Because I know what you're doing right now."

She had now moved past her underwear, her fingers inching closer to her aching entrance. "What am I doing then?"

You smiled, taking your bottom lip in your teeth, "Touching yourself."

She chuckled breathily, "You caught me."

"I did," you replied. Your stomach tightened as you thought about Paige touching herself to your voice.

"Keep talking," she struggled to say, not trying to hide the quiver in her voice anymore.

"Why?" You asked, even though you knew what she wanted.

"Just- please," she whined. The faint sound of her fingering herself is prominent in your hearing.

"Do you do this a lot?" You questioned, giving in to her request.

"Only when you're not around," she responded.

"What do you think about?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

Her breathing was getting heavier now, "You."

"Why?" You inquired, enjoying making her say what you already knew out loud.

She huffed, "You know why."

"No, I don't," you lied, "Tell me.”

"Because you're pretty and hot," she practically whined. "And you have such an amazing body."

"I do?"

"Yes!" She responded, her tone more amped up now.

You couldn't help the way your hand drifted downwards. The throbbing between your legs is too intense to ignore.

"You close, baby?" You asked, now touching yourself too.

"Yeah," she moaned.

You sat your phone down on the bed, right beside your ear. "Hold on a little longer," you instructed.

You moved your hand from your clit to your dripping slit. Too impatient to wait any longer, you slipped two of your fingers inside yourself. Imagining that they were Paige's instead.You let the sounds she made bring you closer and closer to the edge. A few moans escape from your lips as well.

"Fuck," she murmured, aware of what you were doing.

"I love you," you exhaled.

"I love you too," she said, her voice strained.

You slid your fingers in and out of yourself, using your thumb to rub your clit.

She inhaled sharply before speaking again, "I'm gonna cum."

"Me too," you agreed, gritting your teeth.

Paige let out a long groan, finishing. Meanwhile, your orgasm was quickly approaching. You let the sounds of her riding out her high tip you over the edge, a string of curse words falling from your swollen lips. It wasn't one of the best orgasms you've had. But the mere idea of Paige made it enjoyable.

Silence rang throughout your ears as you let out a satisfied sigh. The only sound coming from your phone is your girlfriend's heavy breathing. Several minutes passed, the two of you simply listening to each other breathe.

"Y/n," Paige whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I was just making sure you were still there," she said, and you could tell she was smiling.

You laughed, "I'm here."

"Don't leave," she pleaded.

"I won't.”

"Thank you."

"Anytime," you responded.

Either way, you loved falling asleep on the phone with Paige. You loved the adorable sound of her breathing and how comforting her presence was. Even if she wasn't physically with you, you felt safe and secure.

"Goodnight, beautiful," she murmured, already half asleep.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach, "Goodnight, even more beautiful."

She laughed softly before submitting to sleep. You rolled over on your back, squirming around as you got comfortable. You relished in the warmth and coziness of your bed, thinking about how lucky you were to have your girlfriend.Your eyes felt heavy, and you yawned as you fell asleep, wishing that Paige was next to you.

[winchester-24]

I am SO gonna need a part two to Sam choosing between reader and ruby. I loved it and I’m CRAVING angst. I can only imagine how you’d continue the story I KNOW it would be good

I'm so glad you loved it! The response to this specific fic has been mind-blowing to me as someone who just started posting, and I am super humbled by it! Thank you for your support <3

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 2)

Cold. If any hunter was asked about you, that is how they would describe you. When Bobby came and picked you up that day, he let you sit the entire ride home in silence. When you two reached his house, he popped a beer for you. When you went to take it, he held it back and demanded,

“Sit.” You sighed and sat at his kitchen table, drank the beer he offered, and told him everything. He comforted you Bobby-style, meaning he told you it would be alright and the two of you would figure it out. You finished your beer, thanked him, and asked if there was any car he didn’t care to part with. While he had none running, he permitted you to fix any of them.

It took you a month to fix up a car. Everything you knew about cars you learned between Dean and Bobby. It was nothing fancy, but it would get the job done. Every morning, Bobby would make you eat breakfast, and every night, when you came in, Bobby would make you eat dinner. You would then shower, sleep, and repeat. It was like you were a zombie. When the car was completely ready, you packed your things, left Bobby a note thanking him and saying that you would call, and left.

During your month there, your phone would begin to ring non-stop. Calling, text message, voicemail. Sam was using any way you could communicate on the phone. In the beginning, you would listen to the voicemails.

“Hey, baby, it's me—again. Please pick it up and at least let me know you are safe. We can talk about this. I love you.”

“I know you’re mad- you have every right to be. I was selfish and stupid, thinking about what was best for us without consulting you. It was dumb, and I took full responsibility. Please call me. I miss you so much; I love you.”

Every voicemail sounded like that, but the contact became less frequent. Instead of all day, it was in the morning and at night. Then it turned into just at night. Then it turned into every other day until it became once or twice a week until the last week you were at Bobby’s, Sam didn’t try to contact you once. Good.

You went from town to town, trying every crossroads demon. Trying to get information, make a deal. Anything. Every demon denied you a deal, and no one would tell you anything. You were getting frustrated. In between finding demons, you would pick up solo jobs. The roadhouse became your home away from home, wherever your home was supposed to be. Some nights, you would end up like Ash, asleep on top of a pool table or bar; other nights, Ellen would give you the spare back bedroom.

Hunters would come in and try to flirt with you. You would be cordial and say no; however, every hunter was the same- stubborn, and thinking no would eventually turn yes. After the fifth hunter came through and tried to put hands on you, you grabbed his hand, twisting it like Sam taught you, and caused the wrist to snap.

That was the last time a hunter hit on you at the roadhouse.

Every so often, Sam Winchester’s name was brought up around you. Hunters loved to talk, and now you know how every hunter seemed to know you three when traveling, but you never knew them. Each time you heard Sam’s name, your heart became colder, and another shot was poured into your body.

Three more months had passed, and you were no closer to figuring out how to get Dean out of hell. A few times, you thought about calling Sam to see if he was close to saving Dean but decided against it. When your phone rang, you were in a hotel room, just finished clearing out a vamp’s nest. Bobby.

“Bobby.” You say that was your greeting now to anyone; you have no spark of joy left in you.

“I need you to come home.” That was all Bobby said. You sighed and flung your boot off, working on the other one.

“I mean, I can; it will be tomorrow, though; I just finished a hunt; is it that important?”

“It needs to be now,” Bobby said. I stood up.

“Bobby, what’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to see for yourself, get your ass over here and stop arguing with me.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You say before you hang up. You look down at all the blood on you and then make eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“But first, I’m going to shower.” You mutter to yourself.

Freshly showered, you were at Bobby’s five hours later. You turn the ignition off and step out of the car. The afternoon light was setting in, and you started to get nervous. Nothing seemed out of place, so what was the big deal? You opened the door and called for Bobby.

“Bobby, it’s me; what’s so important,”  You stopped as you looked in the living room. Bobby stood there, along with- Dean. You gasped. Dean smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He spoke. He went to walk towards you.

“Don’t move a muscle.” You say, grabbing your silver knife and keeping it under your shirt and pants.

“Y/N, I already did the checks, it’s him.” Your eyes looked over at Bobby and narrowed again.

“How do I know you’re Bobby?” Dean smiled.

“You’re good here; test me.” Dean held out his arm, and you did all the testing. When he didn’t react, you looked into his eyes, and tears started to form.

“You’re back.” You whispered.

“I’m back,” he said. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes, he broke the hug and rubbed your arms.

“Bobby told me about Sam.” Hearing his name iced your heart over once more. You looked away from Dean.

“He made his choice; I made mine. I haven’t talked to him since I left.” Dean nodded his head.

“I was going to try to find him if you wanted to come.”

“Thanks, Dean, but I’ll pass.”  Dean sighed and nodded while Bobby said he was going and was going to finish getting packed. You hugged Dean again before ensuring he still had your number and left.

A few weeks after that, you saw Sam Winchester for the first time in months. You heard rumors from the roadhouse about everything going on with Demons and hunting in packs and were looking for a girl, but you never went and checked for yourself. You knew the brothers would be there. Instead, you took up your usual gigs, hoping to stay away from the war.

It was a little salt and burn hunt. You were dressed in your FBI outfit, questioning the latest victim’s wife when you heard it. That low rumble you used to ride in. You quickly finished up your goodbyes, gave her your card, and started to walk back to your car when they stepped out. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he stood frozen at the vehicle. Dean was walking around the car. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he kept advancing towards you. Dean wrapped you in a hug, and you returned.

Sam walked up to you and Dean. His eyes stared into yours; his mouth kept opening like he was going to stay something but then would shut it again.

“Are you still seeing her?” It is all that came out of your mouth. The distaste was evident in your voice. Sam looked taken back for a second but then regained his composure.

“No.” That was all he was able to muster up and speak. You looked at Dean for confirmation.

“I haven’t seen her.” That is all he said. That raised suspicion in you. You decided to let it go.

“If you want to help on this case, I can tell you what I have gathered so far; I was about to go get lunch- you guys are buying.” You walk past them and get in your car, not waiting for them to reply. You drove to the diner you saw on the way to the victim's house and noticed the Impala was not too far behind you. You grabbed a booth at the restaurant, and the boys slid to the other side of you. After you three ordered it, you started discussing the case and everything you learned.

“So, what’s your theory?” Sam asked after you gave them everything you learned.

“These men are not correlated to anything except they all went to the same bar. They were all at the bar the night they died. I’m not sure I would have to go back and ask all the victim’s wives, but I think these men were all unfaithful in their marriages. See, Kathleen Voss’ husband was unfaithful and wanted to be with his mistress, who, get this, was a bartender at that bar, so he killed Kathleen and tried to cover it up. Of course, he was caught but died in jail the same way as all the other victims.”

“So, you think these men are sleeping with a bartender?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know if they are unfaithful with a bartender or just in general, but I’m assuming that’s where Kathleen sticks around since that’s where her husband started cheating on her.” The boys nodded their heads in agreement as our food came. You ate, they paid, and then you told them where you were staying. Before Sam could even have a chance to talk to you, you turned around and walked to your car.

Back at the hotel room, you let out tears that had been hiding behind your eyes the entire time you were around Sam. Old wounds opened, and while you gave a brave face, you were crumpling and fast. You headed for the whiskey in your bag and drank it straight from the bottle. The burn hurt on the way down, but you hoped the effects would start soon. You changed out of your FBI gear into lounge clothes to do more research on these men. When you were about to open your laptop, you heard a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and made your way to open it. Sam.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You didn’t reply; you just opened the door for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. You set your gun down and folded your arms across your chest. Sam let out a breath and started talking.

“I know you are still pissed, hurt, sad, everything. I meant what I said. I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t had contact with her in weeks. There are many things I want to tell you that I’m going to tell you; I want to know if I still have a chance.” You looked at him like he was stupid.

“I left MONTHS ago. You only stopped seeing her WEEKS ago? You know that first month I was at Bobby’s? You know I didn’t tell him not to tell you where I was? You could have shown up any time you wanted to, Sam! You didn’t! Sure, you left messages on my phone, but let's be honest- you were still with HER! You still chose HER! Now you want to walk into my hotel room and ask if you have a chance when I haven’t seen you for months, and it’s only been a few weeks away from that demon? Do I look like a fucking convenience store to you? You want me back; you have to earn me back. That starts with no contact with her. That starts with you showing me you want to be with me.”  One tear left your eye while Sam just looked at you. He nodded his head and started to walk out of the room. Before he crossed over, he looked at you and said softly.

“I still love you.” You didn’t reply, and he walked back to his room. You shut the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, letting out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.

A little while later, in your measurement time, about half a bottle later, another knock sounded at your door. You got up and stumbled over to your door, opening and seeing Dean. He looked at your state and softened his eyes but then tensed again.

“We need to talk.” That sobered you. You nodded your head and let him in. Dean walked in and turned to face you.

“Sam lied to you.” That is all he said. Your jaw clenched.

“What do you mean?”

“He is still seeing that demon; I’m pretty sure they are together now.”

Red. That is what you saw. In your lounge clothes and all, you grabbed your gun and knife; Dean already had the demon knife on him that Ruby gave the boys a while ago.

“Where the fuck is he?” You asked. Dean led you to Sam’s room. He stopped in front of it.

“Kick it down, Dean.” You spoke. Dean complied, and both of you rushed into the room—the sight before you ripped your heart out and disgusted you simultaneously. Ruby was on top of Sam, no shirt, just a black lace bra and panties. Sam only had boxers on, and he was drinking her blood. His mouth and cheeks had blood on them, and when you two busted through the door, they broke apart, and it was all over his mouth.

Sam’s eyes were wide that he had just been caught, and Ruby had that stupid ass smug smile on her face that you remember all too well. You felt your face heat us as you locked eyes with the demon bitch.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 3

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: The mating bond reveals itself

Warnings: brief allusion to pregnancy loss again, nothing explicitly mentioned though!

Word Count: 2.8k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

You run down the hallway, ducking through a random door and shutting it behind you. You lean back against it, knocking your head against the wood. What is wrong with you? You cringe. Rhysand is probably thinking the same thing about you. For some inexplicable reason, you care what he thinks of you, and you’ve gone and made a fool of yourself. 

You look around the mystery room and smile. You seem to have found yourself in a music room. One side of the room is occupied by a large piano, while the other side is a seating area where people must gather to listen. You walk over to the piano, running your hand along the glossy wood of the instrument, breathing in its scent. You pull the bench out, sitting in front of the instrument. You gently press a few keys, happy to find out that it’s well maintained. You had spent much of your life in the music room in your own home, losing yourself in music. Your brothers had often joked that they always knew where you were, because if you weren’t out wandering the gardens, you were hidden away playing the piano. 

You stand, heading for a plush armchair and curling up in it. It was good to know this was here if you’d be spending so much time here. Perhaps you could get Feyre to sit in here with you so you could keep an eye on her. You yawn, exhaustion suddenly coming over you. You’re not sure you can remember where the room you were shown to is, and even less sure you want to try to find it, worried about seeing Rhysand again. So you stay curled up in the arm chair, comforted by the scent of the piano and let sleep claim you there.

When you awake, you’re covered by a blanket. You rub your eyes, wondering who had done it. You briefly wonder if it had been Rhysand, thinking about what he had done for you Under the Mountain. Even now, months later, you still thought about it. He had used his powers to give you pleasant dreams. It was so at odds with what you knew about him. A cruel male who was cruel just because he could be.

You stand and stretch, joints stiff from sleeping in the armchair. You glance out the window and determine you’ve probably missed most of breakfast. You might as well stay here for a little bit longer before going to find Feyre. You sit down at the piano, running a featherlight hand across the keys. You had no sheet music, but you’d been playing for so long you had plenty of your repertoire memorized. You close your eyes, launching into the song, muscle memory allowing you to find the right keys with no issue. You lose yourself in the music, playing song after song, time becoming meaningless. 

When you finally finish, someone claps in the doorway. You jump up, startled, knocking the piano bench over. 

“I thought when I found you in here that you had just found a random room to hide away in. I didn’t realize you were such a talented pianist. Although, I do believe I brought you here because you insisted on keeping Feyre company. Or was that just an excuse to get away from your brother?”

You take a deep breath, getting your temper under control before answering. “When I woke I figured breakfast was nearly over. So I thought I’d play a little bit and then find Feyre.”

“And why didn’t you want to come to breakfast? Are you avoiding me?”

“No.” Yes.

“Liar.”

“Am not!” 

He chuckles. “If you say so.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Well I do.” 

“Feyre is in the library, practicing her letters. While the two of you are here, she is going to learn how to read. You know, I’m surprised. I know you helped Feyre Under the Mountain, so why stop helping her now?”

“You know nothing.” You take another deep  breath, not wanting to have a repeat of last night.

“No? Enlighten me then.”

“I tried. I suggested to Tamlin that I help her learn to read and he shut me down. I thought she’d be more receptive if the idea came from him. But he didn’t think she was ready. So I dropped it. And then he proposed and Ianthe had her wedding planning. If you can even call it that. It was more like Feyre sits in the room while Ianthe makes all the decisions,” now that you’ve started, it's like you can’t stop. “How am I the only one in that damned court that can see she doesn’t want to marry him? I tried to get her out of it, told her that if she had changed her mind I would come up with some sort of excuse so she didn’t have to marry him. I was actually relieved when you showed up because then she wouldn’t be stuck with him and I could have more time to try to figure out a way to help her! She is so miserable there and she is going to end up trapped!”

“Just like you are?” It startles you out of your rant, and you start to bolt, embarrassed that you’ve overshared again, but Rhysand is faster, carefully catching you as you run by. He looks at you for a moment, frowning. 

“Why do you do that?”

“Run away when I’m embarrassed? I believe it’s actually quite a common response, actually.”

He looks up, as if asking the Mother to grant him the patience to deal with you. 

“That’s not what I meant. You lose your temper, say more than you mean to and run away.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m simply curious.”

“Liar.”

He chuckles. “Are you avoiding my question?”

“I don’t understand you, Rhysand. You act like this cruel, careless male, but then I catch glimpses of someone else.” You tilt your head to the side, examining him. “I don’t think you’re as cruel as you make people believe you are.”

“I still think you’re avoiding my question.”

You sigh, giving in, not entirely sure why. “Fine. If you’ll answer one for me.” He nods.

“Tamlin and I are both quick tempered. But while I’m more prone to verbal outbursts…” You fidget, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. Rhys tenses, rage filtering across his face for the briefest of moments. He looks over you as if looking for signs of injury.

“He’s never hurt me. Or Feyre. It’s usually taken out on the furniture.” You wince, thinking about it. “I can only think of what he may be doing right now…” He wants to ask more, but there’ll be time for that later. His instincts are screaming at him to reveal the bond so he can keep you in Night and protect you, but he ignores it, shoving it down. 

“Now I believe you get to ask me a question.”

“Why did you use your powers on me Under the Mountain?” If he’s surprised by your question, it doesn’t show.

“You seemed to need the rest. I could see the pain you were in, some of it my fault, and there was something I could do about it.” 

“But why?”

“Does there have to be a reason? Perhaps I had gotten tired of seeing so much cruelty in the 50 years I had been down there.” You chew your lip. There he is again, that male behind the mask of cruelty.

“May I ask you another question, or do I have to worry about you trying to run away again if you share too much?”

 You give a breathy laugh. “You may, but perhaps you could let go of me?” He lets go of you, taking several steps back.

“Last night you said you’re trapped and miserable in Spring.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a statement, not a question.”

He narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes. One thing’s for sure Mor would love you if he ever got to introduce you to her.

“My question is was that always the case?”

You blow out a breath, fidgeting with the ring on your necklace. “It’s… Complicated. Yes and then no and then yes. Before I had Andras, my husband, I was. And then when I had him… That time was incredible. And far too short. And then after… I lost so much that it would have been hard not to be miserable, even if I didn’t hate it there.” Your free hand brushes over your stomach and you see as understanding, and for the briefest moment, pity shows on his face. It makes your temper flare. You are so tired of people looking at you like that.

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?”

You scoff. “You know the look. The look that everyone gives me when they realize everything that  I’ve lost!” You stalk towards him. He just watches you, surprised by this outburst. “I am so sick of that look! People find out and then they give me that stupid look! And then they know so they may not give me the look, but I can still see it there, just barely hidden.” You’re nearly chest to chest with him now, looking up into his face. “So don’t you dare start too.” 

He whispers your name, staring into your eyes. You’re not sure why you do it. If you’ve well and truly lost your mind, or if something about the way he’s looking at you, the way he said your name, reminds you of Andras, but you kiss him. He hesitates for a moment, knowing he should pull away, that whatever reason you're kissing him has nothing to do with him, but your lips are as soft as they look, and suddenly he’s kissing you back, one hand in your hair, the other on the small of your back.

 Just as suddenly as you had kissed him, you stop, backing away as if his touch burnt you. 

That’s the moment when the mating bond makes itself known to you, snapping into place. You sink to your knees, a hand over your chest, tears burning your eyes. He crosses over to you, slowly, eyes never leaving your face. He takes your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the back of it. You sit there together for what may be moments or hours. "You don't have to accept it. The bond. I understand it may be... You’re not ready to move on." You can hear the pain in his voice, see it in his eyes. You shake your head.

"It's not that it's unwelcome. Just... Unexpected. Andras... I thought he was my mate. I felt it when he died. So I thought.... I'll need time. I don't know how much, but I don't want to reject it. At least not outright."

"I can do that. I can give you time. I've waited for this, waited for  you, for nearly 500 years. And I'd wait 500 more if that's what you need." He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"I'm not sure I'll need quite that long." You smile at him, giving an experimental tug on the bond, nearly gasping at the stars that light up in his eyes, knowing that you'd do nearly anything to get him to look at you like that again. You look away, stomach churning with guilt. 

“Don’t go back to Spring. Stay here.”

“I can’t. I can’t abandon Feyre.” He tucks loose hair behind your ear, and you resist the urge to lean into the gentle touch. 

“I understand… I don’t like it. But I understand. Just promise me something?” 

“Hmm… It’ll depend on what you’re asking of me.”

He smiles. “Promise that if anything happens you’ll reach out down the bond. And either I or someone else will come to get you. And then we’ll figure something out for Feyre.”

“Counter promise, because I can winnow myself. If anything happens and I feel the need to leave I’ll come here with Feyre and reach out down the bond to let you know.” 

“Counter promise accepted.”

“Good. Now I think I should go find Feyre.”

He nods. “Perhaps you should at least change first.”

“Is there something wrong with how I look?”

“No, you’re absolutely stunning. But you are wearing yesterday’s dress. And you slept in a chair.”

“I suppose you do have a point.” He stands, helping you to your feet.

“I am known to have one of those from time to time.”

“Rhysand?” 

“Call me Rhys.”

“Rhys?”

For a brief moment he swears he could die a happy male, just listening to you say his name. “Yes?”

“I forgot where my room is.” He chuckles, leading the way. You follow him, chewing your lip as you think. 

“I can practically hear you thinking, despite the fact that you have surprisingly good walls up. Would you like to share?” 

“Surprisingly good?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to decide if you should be offended. 

“Not a reflection on you, I'm surprised you were taught.” 

“Tamlin decided I should be after the night you killed our brothers and father.” He grimaces, not because he regrets killing them, but because of any pain it may have caused you. You stop, putting a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I know what they did. I saw the wings. I understand. As much as we butt heads, I have been better off with Tamlin as High Lord. My father was not a kind male and I hate to think of the kind of marriage I would have been forced into. I have never held any ill will towards you for their deaths.” Rhys lets out a breath he hadn't even realized he had started holding. 

“What about the garden?” 

“I was angry about it for a long time. What I said to you Under the Mountain… I was being consumed by my grief. I had just lost so much and it felt like it was for nothing because we had all ended up there anyway. But I had stopped being angry at you for it a long time ago.” He nods.

“My mother and sister. Their wings…”

“My father had hung them in the study as trophies. When Tamlin became High Lord, he burnt them.” 

He nods again, blowing out a breath through his teeth.

“What were you thinking about?”

“How I'm going to tell Feyre.”

You're not entirely sure how you might describe the look on his face, but it's clear that wasn't the answer he was expecting. 

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” 

“No. In fact it's probably a terrible idea. But nobody else tells her anything. And I'm not about to start keeping secrets from her. Plus if we may have to suddenly leave and come here, it's better for her to know why instead of having to explain it after.” 

“I… suppose you have a point.”

You grin, teasing him with his earlier words. “I am known to have one of those from time to time.” 

He laughs, the sound making your heart soar. 

The two of you start walking again and he stops once you've reached the door to your room. You linger in the hall, not quite ready to leave him yet.

“Thank you.” 

“Of course. I couldn't let you sleep in the music room all week.” You laugh. 

“No, I suppose not. Although now that I know it's far enough away from the bedrooms that I won't wake anyone, I may be spending quite a bit of time there.” 

“I could leave some sheet music in there for you. If you'd like.” You smile, eyes lighting up, and he already wants to be the reason you smile like that again.

“I would love that.” 

“I'll put it on the piano bench then. I have an idea of a piece I think you might like.” 

“I look forward to learning it.” 

“I'll have someone bring you food while you get yourself ready to speak with Feyre.” 

“Thank you, Rhys.” Once again, he appreciates the way his name sounds coming from your lips. 

“Of course.” He hesitates for a moment, uncertain what to do, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckles. 

You open the door as he walks away, stepping in and taking a deep breath. “Cauldron boil me…” You walk over to the deep bathing pool and turn the taps, allowing it to fill up, taking your hair out of the slept on hairdo from the day before. Once the tub is full of steaming water, you turn the tap off and strip, stepping down, settling into the water. Mother above… How were you going to tell Feyre that Rhys is your mate? And worse. How are you going to tell your brother?

A/N: And there it is! Chapter 3! I'm already working on chapter 4, so that one will probably be out later this week as well as hopefully a few other things! As always, requests are open, so feel free to send those on in if there's anything you'd like to see! I noticed that some of my taglist didn't work last time and I've hopefully fixed it this time!

Divider is by @tsunami-of-tears

taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming @bravo-delta-eccho @sidthedollface2 @oucereeng @jesskidding3 @panther-girl-124 @jiarkives

[aperrywilliams]

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

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

Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

-----

Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home. 

It doesn't feel like it yet. 

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up? 

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable. 

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it. 

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

-

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted. 

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name. 

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night. 

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?' 

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there. 

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird. 

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice. 

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago. 

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me? 

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala. 

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless. 

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes. 

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?" 

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling. 

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)? 

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

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

Next -> Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[v-a-l]

Hi! I was just thinking about what made Hermione come to the conclusion that Sirius wants to live through them. Now I last read OOTP a month ago, but I can't remember anything from the conversation that suggests that he wants to live through them, he only said that they should know how to defend themselves because of the environment that will come and that is why the DA is a good idea. And even if Hermione was influenced by Molly during the summer what makes her think that the DA is a bad idea after Sirius says it's a good idea? He gave valid reasons why it is a good idea. Hermione is very smart but this scene just felt and she felt ooc here.

I know that sometimes JKR used characters like Hermione and Dumbledore as spokespersons about what she wanted the audience to know that's why we get Hermione saying that but if that's what she wanted us to think, she did a poor job because Sirius actually kind of right and it makes Hermione look biased against Sirius.

Same with Dumbledore in that conversation with Harry after Sirius's death and it sucks. She wanted us to think Sirius saw Kreacher as inferior because of his species but that's not true at all. Now, some scenes with Sirius and Kreacher made me uncomfortable and I am not going to lie about it. But Sirius hated Kreacher because he was a part of his abusive childhood and repeated the same bigoted stuff his family thought and let's not forget Sirius only got violent with him when he called Hermione a slur. So Dumbledore saying that just feels so ooc because usually he is so wise (but once i read a meta about him seeing Sirius as Grindelwald and thinking by that meta it gives us an interesting perspective about this conversation as well).

Sorry this is getting long 😅. Anyways my point is that none of it makes any sense. It is clear that JKR was biased against Sirius and to show that she brought two other characters down (though these moments can be seen as interesting flaws in them)

Have a lovely day! (Sorry about the long ask, I hope it makes sense)

Honestly, while JKR is a brilliant writer, I also find her fairly reactionary in her writing style. Sirius was one of the most popular characters in the story because she wrote him that way, he inadvertently became more popular than a lot of other characters she preferred because again, she WROTE him that way. Perhaps the creation of a character as multi-faceted and dynamic as Sirius is was entirely by accident, as she really seems to double down on the character assassination as the books go by, but regardless, there's little in the way of canonical proof to suggest that Sirius is trying to live a vicarious life through the kids. Especially cause he's the one who seems to understand what they actually need after all they've been through instead of just patronising them.

Sirius is the only one who takes Harry seriously, he is the only one who tries to not just physically be there like the others, but actually also provide emotional support. He's constantly been doing this since he escaped Azkaban, and at this point, both in the case of Harry generally, and the Weasleys specifically when Arthur was injured, he's repeatedly looking after others at his own personal cost. He gets Ron an Owl, almost tells Harry how to beat a dragon (and that's the kind of stuff Sirius Black simply just goes around knowing, how to take down Dragons), gets Harry his firebolt and Hogsmeade slip. Sirius is generally an emotionally intelligent person, and this is after 12 years of forced isolation from civilisation.

The tragedy of Sirius' arc in OOTP is that there's no one around him who can relate to his experiences. This makes it impossible for Sirius to find the kind of empathy and support he needs from the members of the order. By OOTP, Sirius' mental health, whilst constantly deteriorating is also displayed on technicolour before the entire cast. He's not allowed any secrets, his abusive childhood, his unprocessed grief, years of dementor and solitary confinement related trauma, the fact that he lost his entire twenties, his burgeoning alcoholism is all on display and not spared judgement from the self-righteous members of the Order who did not support him at 21 and are not going to support him at 33.

Furthermore, the narrative repeatedly validates him. He insists that Harry should be told the truth, and he's right, he insists that he can do more instead of just being locked up and left alone and he's right, he wants Snape to restart Harry's lessons and he's right, he repeatedly and actively disagrees with Dumbledore's opaque methods and again, he's right. He gives Harry the two way mirror because Harry needs him to be there, and as Godfather, it is Sirius' responsibility to find a safe way to ensure that happens.

Whilst he's not at his best, he's still trying, he's trying so hard to be what everyone needs him to be even when its contrary to his own instincts and emotional needs which are either dismissed entirely by the people around him or mocked with derogatory catchphrases like "fit of the sullens" that its genuinely heartbreaking that despite him going out of his way to help the Order, not only is his devotion not returned it's barely even acknowledged. They never try to acquit him, there's no mission run by the Order to try and recapture Peter or get Sirius a trial or even an opportunity to give a press conference (which, with the political climate in OOTP would actually be a great way to discredit the ministry), Dumbledore pretty much just locked him in and threw away the key, a circumstance not entirely different from the past 12 years of Sirius' unfortunately short life. An acquitted Sirius would mean a discredited justice system and ministry and also a powerful wizard to run missions again, but this prospect is not even brought up let alone addressed. He gets a posthumous consolation through a footnote in the Daily Prophet, like that could compensate for the trauma and the decade he's lost.

I think it's very binary to put people into boxes and go "this person is only these set of traits and that's all they can be." Sirius is more than his grief for the Potters and love for Harry and years of isolation and torture. He's a brilliant detective, one of the order's most powerful duelists, someone who is blatantly not afraid of calling people out, be it Walburga or Crouch or Dumbledore, someone who despite growing up in a cesspit of bigotry and violence fights for people like Lily Potter and Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger. The guy who barely tolerates Kreacher but is distasteful of Crouch's treatment of Winky. Sirius, like most people, comes with facets and is possibly one of JKR's finest creations. Not that she seemed to realise it herself.

Not that that's surprising.

The most interesting thing about Sirius and Dumbledore, and Dumbledore's repeated refusal to trust Sirius is that unlike pretty much everyone else in the order, Sirius knows that Dumbledore and Grindewald used to be friends. Lily wrote it to him and Sirius read it. If Sirius could figure out the GoF plot while being half starved to death and living in a cave, a free healthy Sirius with a very much alive James Potter would probably have put the whole plot together. I wonder how much that influenced their dynamic in OOTP because whilst the others have nothing on Dumbledore, Sirius does. If Sirius can spare Dumbledore his judgement despite knowing the truth, Dumbledore can get over Sirius being a Black.

[querenciasturniolo]

leave ⮕ c.s.

word count: 724

warnings: angst, swearing, crying

summary: “just leave.”

a/n: this one is…sad, there’s really no other way to put it. if you’re sensitive to angst (cut to me crying and listening to story of another us by 5sos on repeat while writing this), please don’t read below the cut. only take what you can handle, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

You stared at your ceiling, your body and mind completely numb as you replayed last night over and over again in your head.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You sound ridiculous, Chris. Get over yourself.”

He scoffed and took a step back. “Get over myself? God, everything is always about you. I’ve been falling apart right in front of you for months, and you didn’t even see it!”

You winced, closing your eyes to keep them from burning as tears pooled out. It felt impossible to cry, you’d figured you’d run out of tears.

Your chest constricted as you watched his mouth quiver. “I just,” he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.” He all but whispered. You took a step forward, your breath hitching in horror as Chris took a step back. After a few shaky breaths, his eyes met yours again. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he shook his head. “I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?”

Your breath hitched, your hands immediately covering your face as you tried to muffle the choked sob forcing itself past your lips.

“Chris, you’re my best friend—”

“I’m in love with you.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “I’ve been in love with you our entire lives, and I know you’re not so fucking dense that you didn’t see it.” His words were like poison as they sank in, your stomach roiling with guilt.

Before you could reply, he cut you off. “I have followed you around like a lost puppy since we were twelve, and I can’t do it anymore.” He said, lifting his head completely. The muscle in his jaw tensed, any words you were going to say dying in your throat. He stared you down, his misery festering as your hand rested over your abdomen.

“Chris, I didn’t know.” You whispered, Chris shaking his head.

“Please, it was written all over my face every time I looked at you.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and venom. “Just…just leave.” He said, his voice cracking as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

You felt like you’d been stabbed, all of the color leaving your face as you processed his words. “What?”

“Just leave, please?” The last word came out a broken plea, his eyes closing as he sighed sharply. When he opened his eyes again, they were certain, hardened in a way that you knew whatever he said next, he meant whole-heartedly. “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” He said. It felt as though everything inside you shattered as he walked past you and into Matt’s room, the soft click of the door practically echoing inside of your head.

You sat up out of your bed and threw your legs over the side of it. Nausea coiled in your gut, but you bit it back as you leveled your breathing. You tried convincing yourself that this wasn’t over, Chris wasn’t out of your life forever. He wasn’t, he just needed time to process this, and then you would see him again.

The truth was, once you thought about it, it was painfully obvious how much he cared for you. You’d never thought twice about his actions, thinking it was just Chris being Chris. You’d been blinded by your own obliviousness, just completely ignoring the underlying reasons for his actions.

He was in love with you, and you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t feel the same way, and you hated yourself for hurting him. You could see the sadness in his eyes every time he looked at you, as subtle as it was. He was falling apart right in front of you, because you couldn’t just tell him the truth.

“I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?”

You sat up straight and wiped your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Standing from your bed felt wrong, but you took a deep breath and pushed your hair out of your face. You looked down at your phone and tapped the screen, begging whatever entity out there to let there be something, anything, from him. Your notification center practically mocked you as it showed up empty. You inhaled shakily, trying desperately to swallow the knot in your throat as you realized this was it—you lost him.

“Just leave.”

tags: @strniolo , @toyourloves , @ssturniolo , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @emmssturniolo , @lvrsparadise , @tuktuk34 , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @babytomatoes , @ldontexistman

[writtnbyhan]

Can I request a fic where hyunjin had a really bad day and then reader says something that’s obviously meant to be a joke, or idk buys him the wrong order of food etc but he gets really upset and takes it to heart and starts crying and reader realizes something is definitely wrong because he’s never that sensitive and she gets him to open up to her about how stressed he’s been etc and she just helps him get through the day and feel better.

hey!! I loved this request because I love hurt/comfort, even though I don't know if I'm good at writing it...? I tried my best, though! I really hope you like it and that it is what you wanted. I don't know if Hyune actually feels like this sometimes but the mere thought just made me want to fly to Korea and tell this man how much I love him. So, there's that!!! hope you like it.

word count: 1560

Fuck. fuck. fuck.

You know you fucked up, somehow. Looking at your boyfriend's sad face in front of you, you look back upon your interactions today, trying to pinpoint exactly what you did wrong.

Hyunjin had texted you around midday, a simple “coming over tonight after schedules”, to which you responded with a heart emoji and continued working. Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to clean around the house so you could wait for him at your apartment. He was usually done with schedules by 7 p.m., or maybe 8 at the latest. You were free from work by 6:30, so you took a shower and sat on the couch to watch an episode of Friends, sure that by the time it was done your boyfriend would be arriving.

Distracted by the episode, you only remembered he was apparently late when you were halfway through the third episode. Looking at your phone, you saw it was around 10 already.

“baby? you still coming over, right?” you sent, worried frown on your face. You figured he had gone to his place to get cleaned up, maybe dance practice ran late and he had to wait until 3racha showered, or something. He probably had a reasonable explanation, you figured, even when he didn’t text you back, you knew he wouldn’t stand you up.

Sure enough, about 30 minutes later your boyfriend arrived, opening the door for himself and getting inside, running away from the chilly night air that probably made him feel cold due to his wet hair. You frowned, looking at him.

“I’m so, so sorry!” he quickly apologized, taking off his shoes in a rush so as to get closer to you as fast as possible. “Everything got delayed and then Jisung took forever in the shower, I’m so sorry!” he repeated.

“And here I was thinking you stood me up and I’d be able to sleep without someone stealing all the sheets tonight.” you joked, sighing as soon as you finished saying those words as if you meant them, even though it was an obvious joke, and you figured he could tell by the blush that crept to your cheeks as soon as he stepped through the door. Even after dating for a few months, you were always blushing around him.

He froze, but you didn’t notice that because you were watching the screen in front of you to click pause on the episode. After doing so, you closed the laptop and stretched your back, only then looking at him again. You noticed he was staring at the floor and had stopped moving towards you halfway through the living room, so he was standing close to the door, just looking at the floor as if it had something interesting to tell him.

“Hyune?” you asked, worried, trying to get his attention. He hummed without looking up, letting you know you were heard. “What’s going through your head?”

“You really think I would stand you up?” he asked, and his voice broke a little near the end. Your eyes grew big, surprised he was taking that comment so seriously. Before you got a chance to say anything, he continued. “Am I… do I ever make you believe you're not loved enough?”

He looked up as he let out the last question, and you were now able to see the tears that were running silently down his face, his worried eyes fixed on you as you gasped in surprise, quickly getting up to get close to him.

“Hyunjin! No!” You were almost reprimanding him. Seeing him this sad made you feel guilty, and your heart broke a little at the sight of the tears and the hurt he was feeling.

When you were close enough, you tiptoed and put your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Baby, I never once believed you were actually standing me up, you make me feel so loved and so sure. I knew if you weren’t coming you’d let me know, so I figured something had happened and you were running late.” you explained in whispers, still hugging him.

His arms were around your waist now, and he hugged you so tight he almost left you without air. His face was hidden in your neck, and you could feel his wet cheeks brushing against your skin. You worry, because it’s obvious that the tears are still falling and because he’s never this insecure.

“Hyune?” you ask again to get his attention, but you don’t wait for a hum this time before continuing. “What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin is silent for a few seconds, probably thinking if you really want to hear what’s burdening him. Trying to be reassuring, you move one of your hands to his hair, interlocking your hands with locks of hair, massaging his scalp. He sighs, and you know you broke through him and his walls — they’re never strong enough to keep you out, and you’re so glad for that.

“I’m just stressed, y/n…” he says, voice so tired it makes you wanna cry.

When you realize he won’t continue talking, you try to get him to open up more. “Why is that, baby? What exactly has got you this stressed? You know you’re an amazing artist so, what’s wrong?”

Hyunjin thinks. He’s picking up the reasons why he’s stressed, trying to organize his thoughts and put them into words.

“Everything is too much.” he settles for, in the end. “You know the comeback is this week, right?” You nod, and he must feel it against his head because he continues. “Well, we have everything ready and only practice the choreographies and film interviews and that’s the thing. I feel like I should be doing more, I feel like people think I should be doing more. Also! The whole ambassador thing… it makes me so happy, but I feel like I’m also not good enough for it, not worthy of such an honor… I should be doing more to actually earn it.” he says, almost rushing through his words as more things come to mind. You’re still hugging, so he can’t see how you close your eyes in a pained expression as you hear him speak. It hurts you that he thinks this way of himself.

“Hyunjin…” Your voice breaks, betraying you. “You are doing so good, I’ve seen you practice the choreographies and I see your work with Versace and… baby, believe me, you’re doing enough. You are enough. Even if you weren’t doing anything, you deserve this so much because you’re you! They want you because you have the charisma, and the look, not because of what you do to promote. The enterprise and the kids, they love you because you’re you, and you do an amazing work. If they wanted you to do more, they would ask for it. If they don’t tell you explicitly, that means you’re doing enough — and knowing you, you’re probably doing even more than you should. Do you think your fancams have the amount of views they have just because you’re pretty? I mean, you are, I won’t deny that, but you’re also mesmerizing on stage, even when you don’t try that hard. Now, I can tell that you’re trying because you look… more than thrice as good. It’s actually unbelievable. I know Stay is proud of you, and I am too. No one thinks you should do more than what you do or you should try harder, we think you’re enough, and we thank you for doing what you do already.”

Your voice is firm, even if it breaks sometimes, betraying that tears are running down your face too. It makes you ache that the person you love so much is doubting himself.

“Baby…” Hyunjin says, and his voice is barely audible. He’s sobbing now against your neck, and you don’t blame him because you can only imagine how long he’s kept this hidden and how badly he needed to hear what you just told him.

You shush him and go back to massaging his scalp.

“Let’s go to bed, okay? You need to rest, and you need cuddles and kisses. I’m going to kiss you until you forget every doubt you have about yourself, okay?” You whisper, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckles and nods, untangling himself from you but taking your hand, guiding you to your room. You notice he doesn’t want you to see him while he cries because he turns around quickly. You smile, shaking your head slowly. You’re so in love with that man, you doubt there’s anything he could do to scare you away.

You squeeze his hand three times, the universal signal for “I love you”. He squeezes back, and when you arrive in the bedroom you cuddle with him and make good on your promise to kiss him until he forgets.

The next day, you start by reminding him how proud you are of him, and promising him that the kids are also proud, and so is Stay. You take it one day at a time, checking in on him and letting him tell you every doubt he has, something just to get them off his chest and sometimes so you can free him of said doubts. One day at a time, slowly, until he realizes how much he’s worth.

[milaisreading]

can u do its our girlfriend (ryusei shidou version)?? 🙏🏽🙏🏽 w/ sub20 time? 👀

Author: Here it is! I hope u like this one and thank u for the request🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to: Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

The U-20 team felt a pretty huge shift in the dynamic when 2 certain players joined the team. One of them being Shidou Ryusei and the other one being Itoshi Sae. Now, Oliver as the captain did try and was somewhat successful with getting along with Sae, meanwhile Shidou... well he is a great player but really hard to get along with. But one thing Oliver noticed was that there was a rift and tension between Sae and Shidou, who were by all accounts always the closest to each other. The issue started a month ago when Oliver, and later on the team would notice how much bossier Sae was with Shidou, and the boy was in return a lot snappier with him. It was really getting out of hand and Oliver was ready to rip his hair out. Japan's U-20 team had an image to uphold and the last thing Oliver needed was their manager yelling at him to get them in line.

"You dumbass antena man, focus on the goal!"

"Under eyelashes senior is now the boss around here, huh?"

"Can someone shut them up?" Sendou pointed, tired from all the yelling.

"Why are they even arguing?" Teru questioned.

"God knows." Hayate shrugged his shoulders, watching as Oliver and Niou walked over to the bickering duo and pulled them away from each other.

"Alright! Enough!" The team flinched at Oliver's yell, but kept quiet.

"What's the issue you two? You have been acting like you killed each other's families!" Oliver started as Niou sighed and continued after the captain.

"We are just worried. Not only is this giving an issue to us as a team, but also to you two as a duo on the field." The long-haired boy explained as Sae and Shidou sent each other a side glare. The rest of the team kept quiet and watched the two as the huffed and looked away from each other. Oliver was pretty much speechless, he expected this from Shidou... but never from Sae of all people.

"This must be quite serious, Sae would act more mature otherwise." Teppei whispered to his friends and Miroku told them to be quiet.

"Spit it out." Oliver demanded and it seemed like Shidou finally broke.

"Under eyelashes senior here is butthurt his crush likes me more."

"I am not! All I said was that (Y/n) picking you as her boyfriend will come to bite her." Sae said back, shocking the team even more now.

'Shidou...Shidou has a girlfriend?!'

"Did I just hear correctly?" Hayate questioned with wide eyes and looked at his friends. Miroku and Teru slowly nodded their heads as Teppei and Sendou kept quiet, but were equally wondering how truthful that statement was.

'No way... he got a girlfriend before me?' Sendou thought with a huff.

'Ehh? I can't imagine Shidou with anyone.'

"What?" Niou raised an eyebrow as he closed Oliver's open mouth.

"Shidou basically got a girlfriend, way above his league if I may add." Sae repeated.

"Shut the hell up!"

"You know I am right. She literally could have had anyone, why you?" Sae said as his anger raised again, causing Shidou to smirk.

"Turns out my personality is more appear to her."

"Wait... Shidou has a girlfriend?" Oliver blurted out, causing the two to look at him.

"Yeah, they have been going out for a month." Sae rolled his eyes.

"Something you will never experience, might I add." Shidou chimed in.

"You two...are joking with us? Right?" Sendou suddenly spoke up as they raised their eyebrows.

"No?"

"You sure? Sae that was a good joke." Miroku let out a laugh as Hayate and Teppei held back their laughters too. Niou tried to calm them down while Oliver tried to stop Shidou from yelling.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" The blonde asked, taking offense at their reactions.

"It's just...you don't seem dateable..." Teppei answered, earning a nod from Hayate.

"You are too loud."

"And you say weird stuff at times."

"Sorry, but there is no way someone is dating you." The statements caused Shidou's anger to rise even more, but along with that also came the insecurities. He could handle Sae saying those things, since he is pretty jealous of his relationship, but hearing people who are pretty much strangers to him say those things... it really stung.

"I think you are capping."

"Yeah... Sae and Shidou stop joking around-"

"Wait Sendou... who is your girlfriend?" Oliver asked, trying to wrap his head around this whole concept. Shidou wanted to answer the question, he did. He wanted to show off his cute, beautiful and funny girlfriend to everyone. But one part of him wanted to keep that part quiet, private. Sae knowing about her was enough as it is, he didn't need them to know it too.

'Especially when they don't seem to believe it anyways.' Shidou said nothing as he walked off towards the locker room, sending a warning glare as Niou and Teppei tried to get the name out of him.

"Enough joking... let's just get changed. Our training session is over." Hayate said as he pointed at the clock.

"Sae, can you please tell us who the girlfriend is?" Teru wondered.

"Yeah, otherwise we will think this is a joke." Oliver added in but the redhead just shrugged his shoulders.

"Believe whatever you want. I am not saying anything out of my respect for her. When she feels like meeting you guys, you will know."

While everything was going on outside, Shidou was in the locker room enjoying how quiet it was. He somewhat cooled down from the fight and his mind kept wandering off to (Y/n).

'Ahh~ just her cute face could make any of my bad days good. She is so kind and sweet, the World really doesn't deserve her. I wonder what she is up to.' Shidou thought, growing a little agitated.

'I didn't see her at all in the past 3 weeks, stupid Blue Lock and Ego... keeping her away from me like that.' Shidou pouted. He really missed her and hoped to get the chance to see her before that match with her team.

'Seems like it's just wishful thinking.'

Teru yawned as he walked down the hallway from the bathroom. After such an eventful day he just wanted to get dressed and go home to sleep.

'Maybe a good dinner and some movies would be a good idea.'

"Excuse me, do you know if Shidou Ryusei is still here?" The boy jumped up at the sound of a unfamiliar feminine voice from behind him. Turning around, Teru was surprised to find none other than Blue Lock's manager, (L/n) (Y/n). The boy's face turned beet red and slowly nodded his head.

"Y-yeah... why do you need him?" Teru asked shyly as the girl grinned at his answer.

'She is even prettier than on TV!'

"I need to see him, can you please call him or bring me to him?" She asked and Teru quickly nodded his head, laughing nervously.

"Of course! Follow me, sorry if I am jumpy a little."

'She will think I am weird now...' Teru thought nervously, internally facepalming at his own behavior.

"It's fine, my team is the same right now. Probably excited for the match coming up?" (Y/n) asked in a reassuring manner as Teru slowly nodded his head.

"Y-yeah..."

'Her voice is so soft...'

"Shidou!" The group turned to look at Teru as he ran into the changing room.

"What?" The blonde asked in annoyance, still mad at the way they spoke to him earlier. Teru took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm the redness on his face down.

"The...the manager fo Blhe Lock wants to see you..." Teru panted out. The blonde's frown turned into a grin as he quickly packed his things.

"What?! (Y/n) is outside?" Teppei and Miroku asked with wide eyes as Oliver grinned at the news. Niou and Hayate kept quiet along with Sae. The older Itoshi became restless at the mention of (Y/n)'s name while the other 2 grew a lot more nervous.

"Later, losers." Shidou chuckled and ran out with his bag.

"Hold it- Why is she even here?" Niou wondered as Teru spoke up again.

"It turns out the girlfriend Sae and Shidou talked about was (Y/n)."

The room grew quiet as Sae quietly left the room, hoping to catch up to the duo before they left.

'Shidou...'

'Is dating...'

'(Y/n)...' Sendou, Hayate and Miroku thought as Oliver's eye twitched.

"What do you mean?! No way did that guy get to her first!" Oliver yelled as Niou nodded his head.

"She was probably blackmailed into dating him."

"True. (Y/n) seems so sweet and kind..." Teppei started.

"And beautiful, she puts all the idols I know to shame." Sendou sighed dreamily.

"I also heard she is so considerate. I heard she always makes snacks for her team." Hayate chimed in.

"Forget that! Did you see the way she holds herself when talking to the reporters?!" Oliver added in with a blush.

"Yeah...she has to be blackmailed." Miroku concluded as silence fell among the group.

They looked between each other and at the door as Niou cleared his throat.

"I need to go to the toilet."

"Hold it! Why did you take your bag-" Before Hayate could finish his sentence, Niou was already outside the locker room.

"Hey!" Oliver yelled, running after his teammate and the rest joining in.

"I hope you like it! It's like a good luck charm for the upcoming matches!" (Y/n) grinned as Shidou held the necklace she bought him a few days back. It was a simple, 4 leaf clover pendant on a gold chain, but it did make Shidou's heart race a little and his face turned red from the attention.

"Thanks, th-this means a lot. I didn't get anything for you." Shidou said, getting a little shy from the sudden gift and (Y/n) shook her head.

"I am happy and fulfilled as long as you are, Ryu."

'So adorable! And all mine!'Shidou thought as his cheeks started heating up and he coughed.

"Want to eat something? There is a good restaurant-"

"Are we eating somewhere?" Shidou felt like all the rage he previously felt came rushing back as Sae appeared put of nowhere, putting his arms around (Y/n)'s shoulders.

"Sae-san?! Where did you come from?" The girl wondered, a little startled by his appearance. Shidou watched with a snarl as Sae turned his stone cold look to a much softer one as he glanced at (Y/n).

"Good to see you, (Y/n). You look just as pretty as the last time I saw you." The girl blushed a little at the comment as Shidou pulled her our of his grip and glared even harder at Sae.

"We, as in (Y/n) and I will go and eat now. You can go somewhere else." Shidou said as he started pushing (Y/n) in front of himself.

"Ryu, you don't have to push me.... but I feel a little bad..." (Y/n) admitted in embarrassment as the two stopped and looked back at Sae. Shidou raised his eyebrow, wondering what she actually meant.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Sae is your friend, maybe we could invite him along. He probably wants to eat with us too." (Y/n) smiled softly as Shidou felt his heart crack a little.

'She is so considerate! That Itoshi doesn't deserve this level of kindness! My cute, little girl.' Shidou thought as he poked her cheeks.

"Ryu~" She pouted as the boy chuckled.

"You are so adorable... Fine, we could invite Sae along." Shidou sighed, as he really couldn't say 'no' to (Y/n).

"Ahh~ Shidou? Is that your lovely girlfriend?" The blonde boy flinched as he heard Niou's voice and the two turned to look at the group. The blonde tightly grabbed onto (Y/n)'s hand as they observed the group. Shidou watched in horror and anger as he noted all their expressions as (Y/n) waved at them.

"Hello!" She exclaimed.

Niou, Hayate and Miroku had the most normal expression, just a small blush on their cheeks. Teppei hid behind a blushing Miroku as he sent (Y/n) a few glances here and there.

'So cute~ she is even more adorable in real life.' Teru, Oliver and Sendou where meanwhile blushing messes as they stared at (Y/n) and waved at her.

"It's so lovely to see you, (Y/n)-san. We weren't aware you and Shidou were dating." Niou spoke up as he walked closer to them.

"Yeah! Congratulations." Miroku added in as Teppei followed them.

"Can I get a picture with you?"

"Me?!" (Y/n) asked the boy in confusion as Sendou and Oliver chirped in.

"Yes, it would be lovely."

"You look even lovelier than a kpop or jpop idol."

"A-ah... Thank you, Sendou-san." The girl blushed a little as Teru and Hayate chimed in.

"Move a little, Shidou- Can I get a picture with you too?"

"Can you please be our manager? The old man is annoying." Hayate groaned, earning a hit on the head from Oliver.

Shidou watched in disbelief as his teammates tried to chat up his girlfriend, his jealousy close to reach its limit.

"Told you that (Y/n) is a real eye catcher." Sae snorted, equally annoyed at the scene.

"Shut it! I know...it's my (Y/n)... my girl we are talking about."

[sokoviansimp]

I loved the last Drabble so much! Can you do one of reader getting scared whilst with someone else and wanting her mama and for a second everybody is assuming she was asking for her birth mom but she was asking for Wanda? Please??

Mama

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary: Reader gets scared whilst with someone else and wants her mama and everybody assumes she's asking for her birth mom

✒ Tags and Warnings: anxiety, flashbacks, lmk if I missed any

✒ Author's Note : I really appreciate the request! I was SO excited to write this one, what a cute Idea! Hope you enjoy. To the other requests in my inbox, I am sorry I am so slow but I will be getting to them, they're all so good :)

✒ Word Count : 2953

✒ Read Time: 15 minutes

Masterlist : The Package AU

Natasha was sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by a pile of toys that you had dumped out. You were crawling around, picking up different toys and examining them before discarding them just as quickly.

Examining the mess, Natasha picked up a stuffed bear and held it up to her face, pretending to growl at you. Your face lit up as you let out a squeal of delight. Natasha repeated the gesture a few more times, each time eliciting more giggles from you.

Eventually, she laid down on her back, still holding the bear up in the air. You walked over to her and climbed onto her chest, your little arms wrapping around Natasha's neck, she couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight.

"Are you trying to give me a bear hug?" Natasha asked, chuckling. You just giggled in response as you nodded your head against her chest, your tiny fingers playing with the strands of Natasha's red hair.

For a moment, Natasha forgot about all the darkness and danger that surrounded your lives. All she could see was the innocent joy and happiness on your face, and it warmed her heart more than anything else in the world. Once you were settled on her chest for the hug, you stayed put enjoying the comfort. Mindlessly playing with the redhead’s hair as you relaxed with her. 

Moments later, Wanda meandered in from the kitchen to see the two of you on the verge of sleep cuddled together on the floor. The sight was perfect, her two favorite people. It looked as if Nat was guarding you from the world, as long as you were in her arms, nothing could harm you and you’d be perfectly safe. Or maybe that’s not what it looked like to everyone, but it sure looked that way to Wanda. Maybe that’s because that’s the way that Natasha has always made her feel. When her brother died, she was there for her, no matter what she needed, sometimes before she even know she needed it, Nat provided. 

The day they found you on the mission, Natasha was there to provide support for Wanda, to make sure she knew that she’d be there to make sure no one ever hurts you again. As she watched the two of you, Wanda realized that Natasha was more than just her best friend. She felt a connection with her that she couldn't deny. It wasn't just the way Natasha made you laugh or held you when you cried, but the way she made Wanda feel when they were together.

Wanda had never felt this way before, she made her way over to pull a blanket off of the couch to lay over the two of you. She knew that she was falling in love with Natasha. She tried to push the feeling aside, telling herself that it was just a crush or infatuation, but she knew deep down that it was more than that.

You had only been with Wanda and the Avengers for a couple of months, but you were already starting to feel at home in the compound. You loved exploring the vast rooms and corridors, playing with the Avengers and their various gadgets, and spending time with Wanda, who had completely taken you under her wing. But there were still moments when things reminded you of your old life and made you scared of this new environment.

Wanda was more nervous about the night than she wished to be. Worrying about what she should wear that was appropriate but may also catch the other redhead’s eye. It was silly, they’d been friends for years and Natasha never noticed before, or was it because Wanda wasn’t trying to catch her attention, surely today would be no different. To her, Wanda was sure she would never be seen as more than a friend. She couldn’t help but think about what Nat would think of each outfit she picked out though. 

This evening was special because, for the first time since you resided at the compound, there would be guests joining for one of Tony’s gatherings. It was more tame than Tony’s parties are typically known for, it was mostly for a press announcement regarding a new watch that Stark Industries released. 

The StarkWatch, set to land on the market two weeks from today, would be equipped with state-of-the-art sensors and algorithms that can accurately measure your heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and other key health metrics. It would also have a built-in GPS and a voice-controlled digital assistant that can help the user navigate, set reminders, and perform various tasks hands-free.

One of the most innovative features of the StarkWatch would be its holographic display, which would allow the user to access their smartphone apps and notifications in a fully immersive and interactive way. They could simply raise their wrist and see a floating 3D image of their screen, which they could manipulate with hand gestures and voice commands.

The ultimate gadget for the modern tech-savvy individual who wants to stay healthy, connected, and stylish at all times. Or at least, that’s what Tony was saying about it. The watch would be available in a range of colors and styles, and would come with a custom-designed charging dock that doubles as a stylish desk accessory. 

With the rise in smartwatches, the press was on the edge of their seat waiting to see what Stark Industries had cooked up for the market of consumer-based wearable tech. 

Every Avenger was in the audience for the announcement to show their support for Tony, even you. Wanda wasn’t planning on staying the entire time but it was important to her to at least make an appearance. Once Tony’s speech was over, the crowd shifted their attention to the tables that held food and drinks. 

While the guests were mingling and filling their plates with the finest catered food around, Tony made his way over to the crime-fighting group that you sat with. The congratulatory wishes poured from their mouths as they welcomed their friend off the stage. 

Throughout the speech, and even now, you sat comfortably on Wanda’s lap with your back to her so you could see everything that was happening. Wanda’s focus shifted from the stage to Natasha every so often as she stole glances at the redhead. You had been very well-behaved and hadn't made a sound throughout the whole event. Now that everyone else was getting out of their seat and your friend, Tony, was no longer on stage, you started to get a bit antsy in Wanda’s grasp. 

At first, you were just shifting your weight from one leg to another, but soon you were trying to wiggle your way out of her hold and off of her lap. She tried to explain to you that the appropriate thing to do right now is to keep still but you just wanted to get up and stretch your legs, and well, now that you think about it you want to go play. The event was quite boring, mostly made for grownups, and the only reason you were even there was to show support, you don’t even know what you’re supporting. Tony was up on a big stage though, I guess that’s kind of cool. 

“Are you thirsty, baby? Want me to go get you some juice?” Wanda asked into your ear as she leaned down toward you. 

“Yes, juice!” you nodded your head, “can we pway now?” you wondered as you met her eyes over your left shoulder. Your patience was wearing thin, and as much as you wanted to behave, you also wanted to go and play with your toys. You were hoping that getting up to get juice could be the perfect gateway to leave. It felt like you had been sitting in that room for hours. 

Tony caught wind of you wanting to skip out early and in an effort to keep your attention, he mentioned how you’re not going to want to miss the next act. You were instantly intrigued by his sentiment. He continued on, telling you how they’re going to demo the new features and there's going to be a whole show on stage.

The possibility of what could take place on stage left you in excited anticipation, going over different impossible scenarios in your mind. What if someone came walking in riding on a triceratops? Surely you wouldn’t want to miss that. 

Lost in your thoughts, Wanda picked you up from her lap as she stood and placed you down on the seat she was just occupying, “Can you stay here with the team while I go get you juice?” 

You nodded in response as Natasha offered to go with her. Wanda immediately tensed at the thought of being alone with her, what would they talk about? Would she make a fool of herself? Until she quickly remembered she’s her best friend and it’d be crazy to let a little crush ruin that, she had to act normal. After confirming with the team that they would be ok to watch you while she retrieved the juice, she and Nat walked off. 

“Are you thirsty too?” Wanda raised a brow to Natasha as they settled in the beverage line. 

“Thought you could use some company,” Nat answered. The past couple of days, it almost seems like Wanda has been avoiding her and she’s not sure what she did, or if she did anything for that matter. Most importantly, she wants to make sure her friend is okay because she’s just seemed off.

“Oh, thanks”

“Of course, is everything ok? -it just seems like you’ve been a bit off lately”

Wanda felt embarrassed that Natasha had noticed the shift, “how do you mean?”

“Well, I- I guess, I just haven’t seen you in a few days really. You’re not avoiding me, are you? Did I do something?” Natasha sputtered out. 

Truthfully, Wanda was avoiding Nat. Of course, she did nothing wrong, maybe even just too many things right, but surely she couldn’t admit that. “No- god no, of course not!” Wanda tried to reassure her, the last thing she wanted was to make Nat feel like she did something wrong, “I- I’ve just been busy, I’m okay though.”

“Promise?” Nat double-checked

“Promise,” Wanda reassured her

“You know you can tell me anything, Wands. I’m here for you,” the nickname made Wanda’s stomach flip. It’s not like she hasn’t heard it fall from her lips a million times before, but this was the first time after she’s begun to see Nat in a different light and it hit very differently. 

“I know, you always have been,” Wanda affirmed. 

“You look stunning today, by the way moy drug,” Nat commented. 

Muy Drug. The statement of friendship felt like a dagger to the heart for the Sokovian, “Thanks, you look good too tovarishch” she responded. 

During their wait in line for drinks, the demo had begun setting up. The two were 3rd in line when the lights began to dim and a dramatic soundtrack blared through the auditorium, “I’m sure Y/N’s on the edge of her seat right now,” Nat mentioned as Wanda let out a chuckle and a nod hoping to make it back soon enough to see your reaction. 

The sounds began to lead up to something as the two redheads approached the front of the line. Just as the server was handing Wanda your glass of orange juice, fireworks are set off at both sides of the stage. Immediately, Wanda knew you were going to go into a panic, she quickly gave the drink to Nat and she set off for you. Natasha knew exactly why Wanda was rushing to get back to you so quickly and still, the two of them were slowed down by the crowd of people. 

At the sound of the fireworks, you immediately covered your ears and closed your eyes as tears began to form in your eyes. The sounds sent you back to your time with Hydra, as you started to shake and rock back and forth, “MAMA!” You called out, hoping she would hear you and come running to comfort you.

The sound of you calling out for your mom broke Bucky’s heart as he tried to calm you the best he could. He knew your mom was never coming back but he didn’t know how to explain that to a 3-year-old. “Y/N, it’s ok, they’re just fireworks. It’s fake booms.” He tried to tell you. 

“Want mama,” you stated as you began to cry.

“I know, I’m sorry kid, your mama isn’t here,” he said as he reached out to hold you. Bucky begins bouncing you up and down in an attempt to soothe you when Wanda and Nat finally return with your juice.

“MAMA!” you yell as you reach your arms out toward Wanda.

Bucky was taken aback by your action, he assumed that when you were calling for your mama, you were wanting your birth mother. The entire team had a similar reaction in their heads. It was heart-warming to see that you thought of Wanda as your mother. As soon as she’s within arms reach, she takes you from Bucky, silently thanking him for taking care of you. 

You quickly nuzzled into Wanda’s neck as she rocked you back and forth, rubbing your back in sooting circles. You soon calmed down, feeling safe and sound in her arms. 

Natasha, standing there holding your juice was taking it all in. The way Wanda was so attentive and caring for you made her smile, and now to see you calling her your mama, Natasha was so happy for Wanda. She knew how much having a family meant to her, and she was so happy to see it happening before her very eyes. The love she held for you both was immeasurable. 

“Juicy,” You say reaching toward Natasha for the juice she held for you. It took Natasha a couple of seconds to register that she was meant to respond by handing you your juice, lost in the way Wanda was coddling and swaying you, “Yes, here you go, Y/N careful small sips,” she mentions as she raises it to your lips for you to drink. 

“Tank yew Natty,” you muttered with a smile on your face as you pulled pack from the straw to nuzzle back into Wanda’s neck. 

“I think we should go now, congratulations again Tony,” Wanda sincerely noted to her friend as she went to carry you out of the theatre. 

“Natty come too?” You said reaching one arm out toward Natasha. The action was too cute to turn down, not that she wanted to anyway.

“Of course” she said as she followed you and Wanda out. 

Once the 3 of you reached the common room, Nat suggested watching a movie to calm down from the chaos of the night, “Fwozen?” you wondered

Nat chuckled, having watched Frozen with you twice already this week, “Frozen it is!” 

Wanda internally winced at the decision, becoming tired of the same movie occupying the screen everytime she sat in front of it, but she didn’t say anything as she knew you had a rough night. 

Wanda sat on the couch with you snuggled up against her, wrapped in a warm blanket as they watched Frozen on the TV. Natasha was sitting on the other side of the couch, but Wanda couldn't help but notice how she kept inching closer, until their legs were touching.

As the movie played on, Natasha reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Wanda's face. Wanda felt her heart race as she turned to look at Natasha. Their eyes met and Wanda felt a sudden jolt of electricity between them.

They both looked away, pretending to focus on the movie, but their minds were elsewhere. As the scene with Anna and Kristoff began to play out on screen, Natasha's hand found its way onto Wanda's thigh. Wanda felt her skin flush as Natasha's fingers began to rub soothing circles.

Wanda couldn't concentrate on the movie anymore. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Natasha. As the scene played out with Anna and Kristoff sharing a kiss, Wanda couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She wanted nothing more than to be the one sharing a kiss with Natasha.

As the movie came to an end, Wanda got up to put you to bed. As she tucked you in, she couldn't help but feel distracted. She knew she had feelings for Natasha now, and she couldn't shake them. As she turned to walk back to the living room, she was met with the same emerald eyes that have been consuming her thoughts for the past week. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Nat offered

Without a word, Wanda walked past Natasha so that she could leave you alone to sleep, Nat took this as a queue to follow, “I’m fine Nat, I promise” Wanda insisted, wanting desperately to let this whole thing go. 

“Hmm” Nat hummed in response, knowing that there was something on her friend’s mind. Surely there was something on hers too, but she wasn’t sure if it was the right time to bring it up. 

“Hmm? What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda countered, pressing on. 

“Means I don’t believe you,” Nat said as she walked out, leaving the redhead alone with her thoughts and her feelings. Thoughts swirling around her head of what Nat really knew. Was she being too obvious? Nat’s her best friend, of course, she can see something is off, but did she know that it was because of her?

Taglist: @mymommawanda@livslifeonline@reggierizzoli@mythixmagic@lesbicentism@marvelogic@katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic ​@kissforvoid

[charmedreincarnation]

I got into the void using your challenge: live update

Day 1:

I said isn’t it wonderful once every hour: everytime I felt doubt I reminded myself isn’t it wonderful and the doubt went away. It kept me in very good mood and my desires did feel closer to me more than ever

Day 2:

Like the challenge said I started my day with Isn't it wonderful that I love and accept my godly ability to choose my reality, and I said that once and mediated on my limited beliefs to and tried to question why I should have them when I am god. I felt like a new person

I manifested so many things. Free coffee’, a cute man asking for my number, so many compliments from strangers which rarely happens, and not being late to class even though I’m always late. I was already becoming my dream self I envision after the void

I have a good vision board I was using for my visuals. Everytime something reminded me of my 3D, I stared at it on my phone to remind myself of the life I am living so why am I concerned, and I repeated isn’t it wonderful to remind myself of my wonderful life, it worked like a charm pun intended

It is night time so I am going to listen to the third video you recommended.

Tomorrow I will write about how grateful I am for all my desires that have manifested and meditate on the phrase it is done. My dream life is already here even if not in the 3D yet I have already become my imagination and I’m excited to fulfill my desires on the fourth day and I will message you my success story.

Day 3:

Today is my last day and I am already fulfilled. It really is wonderful. This morning I got up at 3 am (Happy Aïdd) and prayed on all the things I am grateful for. I went to sleep and woke up again. And journaled about all the wonderful things I have. My wealth, my beauty, my kind heart, the wonderful celebration in my beautiful house I am having with my family, my wonderful fiancé, mastery of the void state, the millions dollars of income I have flowing in my bank account yearly, my healthsafety and protection from god, all things that will be fulfilled the next time I close my eyes and open it. Then I wrote all my goals for the rest of the year, business plans, school plans, wedding plans, trip plans etc etc. this is a normal thing for me. All I could think is it is done this is my life MashaAllah

Update:

I was not planning into going to the void until after I went to bed. But I took a nap and woke up in the void thank you so much for this wonderful challenge

I woke up from my nap in a room I did not recognize I feared I had died, but it is here. I am not shocked or surprised, I don’t know how when I cried for this to happen for months but I have been fulfilled since the first day of the challenge so thank you dear 🙏

A shortened version of my desires

Living a luxurious life in Dubai

Living with all my family members in a 12 bedroom mansion in Dubai

Many house help who are treated with love and kindness and paid well

Loyal wealthy loving and god fearing handsome fiancé whom my family approve of

Attending zayned university

Hourglass body, and 36 inches of long healthy hair that never gets matted

Misgyony free household

10/10 beauty

Long natural nails that never break

High IQ that is respected

A white phantom rolls-Royce as my car

And a lot more 🙏 thank you to Loa tumblr and god himself. I pray all of this for you kind dearing souls

Another update

Tomorrow we throw a celebration and none of my family knows I did this, it is like we have always been rich and happy when we were poor and torn apart. I decorate and set up with my sisters, my mother is cooking 30 dishes, and my father for once is helping her clean up. He now worships here rather than abuses her. I am already getting many gifts, purses and jewelry I could only see in my dreams. My closet is very large the size of my old apartment 😂😂 I have hundreds of shoes and even more clothes and purses. I am in awe and greatful 🥰

Happy Aïdd😭😭🎉🎉💕 the fact that you got your desires on this wonderful day makes me so happy !!! You honestly did the challenge in more depth than I gave and it worked out so beautifully I am beyond happy for you beautiful anon 😭🫶🫶

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Ten: Concert @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Hey, Neighbor Masterlist // AO3 Link

a/n: blargh 2.0  The last few parts may play out rather quick development-wise. This is part 12 of 15. I may end up cutting out a part 15 though...

Warnings: mild angst, ~2.2k words.

.*.*.*.*.

Hey, Fool

For the first time since she was fourteen years old and about to have her first kiss with Chaol Westfold—Aelin had butterflies in her stomach.  It was disgusting.

The butterflies, not the kiss.

The kiss had actually been pretty good.

But the butterflies that were hurtling through her gut at breakneck speed were the exact definition of putrid.  How did anyone function like this?  Hell, why was she even reacting like this?  It was just a night out with a group of…friends…having fun.

Still, the nerves were getting to her.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Elide sat perched on the bathroom counter watching with vague amusement as Aelin got ready.

“I think I am,” Aelin admitted.  She wrapped another section of hair around the curling iron, trying yet again to banish her nerves.

“Why?” Elide asked. “It’s just drinks and music.  Plus, Rowan’ll be there.”

That did not help Aelin’s stomach.  For many reasons.

“Yeah, but he didn’t invite me,” Aelin explained again. “And it just feels weird.”

“But you want to go?” Elide pressed.  She was absently twisting her own hair into a braid, not bothering to fix the strands if they were uneven or she missed a section.  She was mostly just present because Aelin had begged her to come over.

“I do,” Aelin agreed.  She bit her lip, setting the curling iron aside.

“You wish Rowan had asked you to go out instead,” Elide surmised, a slow smile growing on her face. “Right.”

Aelin scowled, re-sectioning her hair. “It’s not like that, Elide.”

“Sure, sure,” Elide said.  She grabbed one of the many tubes of mascara sitting on the counter and started fixing her own lashes. “So then why are you wearing your little black dress?”

Sometimes being friends with a hyper-observant individual was the worst.

“I like this dress.”

“You can’t wear a bra with it.”

“Exactly why I like it.”

Elide met her gaze in the mirror. “Have you, y’know, tried telling Rowan how you feel?”

“How I feel?” Aelin sputtered. She nearly burned her fingers on the iron as she picked it up again.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re an idiot.” Elide said. “You’ve been hanging out with him the last six months, calling in favors, introducing you to your parents—I don’t care what the circumstances were, you did it—Aelin, he’s not just some guy.”

“He doesn’t like me like that,” Aelin said. 

She finished the last section of her hair, arranging the curls around her face.  The strands were silky in her fingers as she separated the curls and shook them out a little.  Her make-up was still immaculate, thankfully.  She didn’t think she could stand still long enough to fix it up.

The motions were rote and easy.  They almost distracted her from Elide’s words.  Almost.  Because…Elide was right.  She didn’t have strictly platonic feelings toward Rowan.  And she hadn’t for a while now.

Maybe that was part of why she’d accepted Rowan’s invitation.  To show she wasn’t averse to going out.  But she’d accepted the invite from one of his coworkers, his friend.  Had she mucked this up for herself?

“Stop over thinking it,” Elide demanded.  “Just because you like the guy doesn’t mean you’re gonna marry him.  Go out tonight and see what happens.  Even if another guy invited you.  It wasn’t strictly a date.”

“I’m going,” Aelin said.  She straightened her shoulders and nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “And you’re coming with me.”

“Ah hell.”

.*.

East of Eyllwe was one of the only good things to come out of the bar, Rowan decided.

The band, composed of four main musicians, could actually hold a tune and write a good song that was more than a repeated phrase and kitschy base line.  The lead singer, Nehemia, was also a pretty cool person to talk to when she wasn’t inundated with fans.  Even though they were local, playing shows in the surrounding counties, Rowan was pretty sure they’d one day rise to a bigger stage.

For now, he’d appreciate the music while he had it.

As a whole, the bar was a decent place to hang out, as well.  It was one of the oldest bars in Terrasen with all the original fixtures still in place.  Even the old oak flooring hadn’t been redone.  The bar was also well known to most service men and women.  As it was a central location to both the fire station and police station, and the hospital was just a few blocks away—The Mistward always had a crowd.

Rowan entered the bar, later than intended, and shook off the chill from outside.  The promised storm was nearly at their doorstep, lingering just in the distance.  The snow had stopped at some point in the afternoon, leaving behind a desperate sort of chill that sank into your bones.  Soon, the floodgates would open and there’d be hell to pay.

For now, he embraced the warmth of the bar and the familiar scent of whiskey and wood.  It had been a while since he’d joined the rest of the crew for drinks.  Mostly to avoid being the subject of razzing.  They all knew his trials with Aelin and all enjoyed making a show of it.  If not that came the quest to get him a date.  And if all else failed—drunken pool.

The music filled the bar like a heavy weight.  The guitar and drums hitting out a steady beat that begged listeners to get up and move.  On the small stage Nehemia was at the mic, her long hair twisted into neat box braids, dark skin alight in flashing blue lights.

And this flood, this flood is slowly rising up

Swallowin’ the ground beneath my feet

Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition

So I’ll swim, I’ll swim

As the water rises up, sun is sinkin’ down

And now all I can see are the planets in a row

Suggestin’ it’s best that I—slow down

It was one of Rowans favorite songs they sang, he even had it downloaded on his phone.  It was made all the more enjoyable with Nehemia’s strong voice and the way she could slide from a low alto into a soprano without missing a beat.

And then Rowan saw the dance floor and who occupied it.

His attention glazed over Fenrys to the woman he was dancing with.  It was impossible not to notice her, with her tight fitting black dress that clung to her curves, hitting barely past the tops of her thighs, and her long blonde hair hanging in loose curls, that glowing, golden brown skin of hers—Aelin was impossible not to notice.  Especially when she smiled like that.

Rowan was sure he could only count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen her smile and laugh like that.

When they’d gone rock climbing, her parent’s dinner party, her impromptu dance party, when he’d been dressed as damned Santa Claus—

And they all seemed to pale in comparison to this.

The song faded away into a small piano riff as Nehemia announced a small break from the bad. As the music ended, a dull silence flooded the bar before natural chatter picked up. It felt like a weight was lifted from the room, but not in a comforting way.  Sometimes, that heady lull of music was the only thing that could keep you together.

Rowan felt that distinctly.

He watched as Aelin and Fenrys lingered on the dance floor, Fenrys leaning in to say something and Aelin letting out a laugh before punching his shoulder.  The sight had his gut clenching and a distinct flurry of…anger?  Irritation?  He didn’t know what it was only that it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Thinking about it too closely wouldn’t do him any good. 

Instead, he headed straight to the bar.  He needed a drink.  It hadn’t been a good day, even with the cookies Aelin had brought over.  He’d even had a few of them and, yes, they’d been delicious.  But that didn’t dull the exhaustion from being dragged through drills all afternoon.  In the snow. 

He reached the bar and signaled for a drink.  The bartender knew who he was, even if his record was spotty for coming it.  But Asterin had a sharp memory.  He leaned against the bar, trying to avoid where Aelin and Fenrys were still talking.  He instead landed on the sight of Lorcan sitting with a petite brunette on the other side of the bar.

That alone distracted Rowan enough from Aelin.  Lorcan hadn’t dated anyone, let alone shown interest in dating, since his ex left a year ago.  He’d be shocked about it later, he decided.

Asterin returned with his drink which Rowan accepted.  He downed most of it in one gulp.  The burn of the alcohol slid all the way down his throat and settled in his already roiling gut.  He should just leave.  No one had seen him yet anyways.

“Buzzard!  You made it.”

Aelin appeared beside him, one hand trailing across his back to settle on his shoulder.  The easy, gentle, way she touched him threatened to send a shiver racing over his skin.

“Surprised?” he asked looking up at her.

If he’d thought she looked good before, it was nothing compared to the up-close view.  Her make-up was flawless, the smokey shadow of her eyes and dark liner making her already vivid eyes pop.  Her cherry red lipstick hadn’t even begun to fade.  A sheen of sweat only made her skin glisten beneath the shadowed lights of the bar.

He was a fool, an idiot.  Ridiculous for even thinking he could keep his thoughts about her neutral.  Another reason he shouldn’t have come.  And why he should disentangle himself from her as a whole.

“Maybe,” she said, sliding onto the stool beside him.  She smiled as Asterin dropped a beer off for her. “I hear you don’t join the boys that often.”

“The boys?” he asked.

Aelin shrugged. “Fenrys and Connall are quite the pair.  And then Lorcan’s over there trying to hit on my friend.”

From the looks of it, Lorcan was actually having some success.  But Rowan wouldn’t say that.  He had a feeling Aelin was more than willing to rip Lorcan’s throat out at a moments notice.

“They’re good guys,” he said, because it was true and she deserved that confirmation. “Even Lorcan.”

“Jury’s still out on him,” Aelin admitted.  She took a slow pull of her drink as she looked him over. “How long have you known them?”

“Few years,” he admitted. “Even before moving to Terrasen, I did trainings and rescue missions with Lorcan and Gavriel before.”

“And Gavriel’s the captain?” Aelin asked, glancing over her shoulder to examine the crowd.

“He’s not here, he doesn’t come out with us usually,” Rowan explained.

“I didn’t think anyone liked people less than you,” Aelin said.

Rowan rolled hiss eyes while she smirked. 

“Smart ass,” he muttered.

“My ass is pretty great.”

“Great at getting into trouble.”

It was worse that she was so easy to talk to.  Worse that he wanted to talk to her.  He’d learned the hard way that the easy things, weren’t necessarily the best for you.  Maybe Aelin wasn’t Lyria.  And maybe she wasn’t prone to walking away, leaving people behind—but he wasn’t sure he could risk that.

He had a lot of issues and Lyria was only part of that.  But he couldn’t drag Aelin into any of that.  So maybe, maybe, he shouldn’t even try to get closer.  It would only make it worse for the both of them.

“C’mon,” Aelin said.  From the stage, a guitar chord indicated the music would start up again.  She reached out and took Rowan’s hand, her fingers lacing perfectly with his. “Let’s go dance.”

She took another pull of her drink before slipping off her stool and tugging on his hand.  There was something about her standing over him like that, with that small smile and the curve of her body—Rowan wanted to give into her.

But he couldn’t. 

If there was anything Lyria and his past in general had taught him it was that he didn’t get the happily ever after type ending.  It just wasn’t in the cards for him.

He stood, knocking back the rest of his drink before pulling away from her. 

“I can’t,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out, from pulling her back against him.

Aelin paused, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

Over the speakers Nehemia started singing a cover to The Fray, the most random song she could have picked for The Mistward.  The piano was slowly joined by a subtle beat on the drums, keeping a calm, if tense, atmosphere building, building…

As he goes left, and you stay right Between the lines of fear and blame You begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend

“Fine,” Aelin said.

And then she was gone, lost to the crowd.

Bile rose in his gut and Rowan was sure he was going to be sick.  Fenrys soon replaced Aelin, looking just as confused, if a little upset.

“What the hell’d you do?” he demanded.

Rowan only shook his head and left the bar.

Outside, the snow began falling. 

.*.*.*.*.

songs included are "dark blue" by jack's mannequin and "how to save a life" by the fray.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Epilogue: "The Great War"

"My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War. Always remember, we're burned for better. I vowed I would always be yours, because we survived the Great War..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes The Twin Flame Chapter List | The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"You can do this. It's fine. You're being silly."

He forces himself to take another deep breath. Anticipation thrums in his veins. It rolls off of him, he almost feels sorry for the poor person he sat next to on the plane.

He's practically shaking with excitement - and has been since he left his apartment back in New York. He can't really remember the last time he felt this excited. 

The freshness of the Louisiana air fills his lungs as he drives with the windows down. Back to you. Back to you for the first time in months.

That's what the feeling is, he realizes.

It's the feeling of coming home. 

You're right about the sky. It is really blue. 

By the time he pulls up to Sarah's home, Bucky can hardly sit still. He hardly has the state of mind to remember to grab his store bought cake from the passenger seat of his rental car. 

"Hey!" A familiar voice greets him. Bucky turns away from the car to see Sam's familiar grin beckoning over to him. "You made it!"

"Of course," Bucky breezily replies, the grocery store cake in his hand making it slightly easier to hide his fidgety hands. He tries not to crane his neck around Sam. He tries not to be rude and focus on what Sam's telling him.

In this moment, it's impossible for him. He can feel that inexplicable pull all over again. The ache in his chest slowly subsiding with every step closer to you. 

It's almost funny to him. The disciplined solider, the highly trained assassin, the notoriously stoic Bucky Barnes, can hardly keep the giddiness of his face. He can hardly pay attention to his friend.

As Sam talks with his beaming grin and animated gestures, Bucky is sure he's at least faking it well, that Sam has no idea there's only one person Bucky is looking for at this moment. 

It's clear that Bucky failed when Sam starts waving his hand in his face. "Um, Bucky?"

Bucky's head snaps back toward Sam. "Huh?"

Sam quirks a brow at Bucky, an unimpressed purse tugging at his lips, "I asked how's it going in New York."

"Oh," Bucky sheepishly exhales with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It's fine. Same old, same old."

"You are literally not paying attention to a word I'm saying."

"Of course, I am," Bucky promises, once again, craning his neck to look around Sam. "I always listen to what you're saying."

"I think you should shave your head."

Bucky nods, still looking around the party. Still no sign of you. "Good idea."

"And can I have your arm?"

"Mhm..." Bucky hums, his eyes flickering to the house to see if there's any sign of you. "Sure, no problem."

"Stop it," Sarah scoffs, swatting Sam's shoulder. 

Bucky takes a momentary break of searching for you, offering a gentle smile to Sarah. "Oh, hey, Sarah, how are you?"

"Good. Keeping busy."

"This is a great turnout. You should be proud of yourselves." He extends the store bought cake he brought to the party, "I almost forgot, I brought this for you guys."

Sam narrows his eyes, "Who are you and what have you done with Bucky?"

"Thanks, Bucky." Sarah nudges her head towards her house. "Hey, would you mind putting this in the kitchen? I wouldn't want it to melt."

"I got -" Sam begins to offer. 

"Bucky," Sarah pointedly repeats, nudging her head toward the house again. 

"Oh, yeah, sure!" Bucky blurts, still only half catching on to Sarah's innuendo. "I'll just - I'll be right back."

Sarah smiles widely. "Great. Thank you." 

He stumbles towards the house before Sam can object again.

And the moment he starts towards that house, he can feel it. He swears he can. He can feel himself being pulled towards the house. Each step makes the ache lessen and lessen. Each step feels like his rib cage is expanding and allowing him his first real breath in months. 

He looks at the roof, the night spent holding you in his arms. The flowers that create a gentle waft through the warm summer breeze. Everything feels brighter. Like for the first time, he sees all the hope the world has to offer.

There is no thought to it. His feet carry him up the steps, past the living room, past the dining room, straight to you.

You sigh as you hear the screen door slam shut and footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Sam, for the last time, the cake will be ready when -" Your words stop dead in their tracks when you turn away from the counter to see who waits in the doorway. Those blue eyes that kept you staring at the sky day in and out. "James..."

A breath lodges in his throat as he takes in the sight of you for the first time in months. The cuts and scrapes, the knuckles bruised like violets, were all but gone. Still, he knew better than most that some scars would never heal.

And yet, you're here. Standing before him. Standing tall. With a smile that could light up this whole town. "Hi."

"Hi." 

"Hi."

You chuckle, "You said that already."

"Right," he giggles. He couldn't believe he'd just giggled. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed, let alone giggled like an unburdened spirit. His hand anxiously rubs the back of his neck, "Hi - I mean - it's good to see you. Sorry, I just - I thought about this moment so damn much and I thought I knew what I was gonna say but - It's just - God, I missed you."

Your grin grows even wider. "I missed you too, so, so much."

"How have you - "

You don't wait for him to finish his question. You rush forward, pulling him down towards you. Your lips meet his in pure desperation, you need this like you need to breathe. Your fingers twist around the hair at the nape of his neck as his find your waist. He pulls you flush against him, his fingertips digging into your hips.

Despite how desperate and frenzied the kiss is, there's a sense of relief, of calm, of peace that accompanies it. It feels like you can breathe, a full deep breath after months of treading water.

After months of rebuilding, you've finally found your way back home.

"What a great way of telling me to shut up," Bucky chuckles against your lips. "You should do it again."

"Hold that thought," you sigh against Bucky's mouth.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"AJ, Cass, Get out here..." You look over Bucky's shoulder to just beyond the doorway. "What are you guys doing?"

Sure enough, the two boys appear, meekly shuffling into the kitchen. "Nothing..."

"You're doing nothing? Really?"

"Uh..." Cass stutters out. 

You lower yourself to each of the boys, your eyes playfully flickering between the two of them, "So who's gonna tell me what you two are up to?"

"Uncle Sam said he'd give us twenty bucks if we came to bother you," Cass blurts.

"He told us not to tell them!" AJ scolds his brother. 

"Oh," you smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. "Did he?"

The boys both look down at their shoes with an apologetic, pouting expression. "We're sorry."

"Oh no, don't be sorry," you assure them. "Did he give you guys 20 dollars each?"

The boys shake their heads. "No."

"How about this? I'll give you guys 20 dollars each if you tell Sam that you saw Bucky going upstairs."

"Each?" they marvel.

"Each."

"Why'd you do that?" Bucky asks as the two boys scurry off to find Sam.

"You'll see."

Sam runs in only moments later, skidding to a halt when he sees you and Bucky standing in the kitchen. "Oh... hey, guys. What's up?"

You cross your arms over you chest, your lips pursing in distaste. "Nothing, just had an interesting conversation with AJ and Cass."

"Oh, okay," Sam excessively nods, feigning innocence.

"Sending children to spy on us," you admonish, tsking once. "That's low."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam lies, defiantly lifting his chin.

"They sold you out, Sam."

Sam's mouth gapes slightly. "For how much?"

"20 bucks each."

"Damn it," Sam hisses. "You know, I used to be able to bribe the both of them with a 5."

You point to the front door. "Get out."

Sam narrows his eyes, flicking two fingers between his gaze and Bucky's. "Fine... but I'm watching you."

"You know, I'm starting to get why you don't like Sam," you joke.

Bucky groans in relief, resting a hand on your waist. "It's about time."

You pat his chest once, your hand sliding down his arm to his hand. You lace your fingers with his and jut your chin in toward the back door. "Come on, let's go out back. I wanna show you something."

 "What do you wanna show me?"

"You'll see," you coyly reply.

You lead him out the back door, following a path of carefully paved stone lined with wildflowers of all kinds. The smell of the flowers waft through the summer breeze once more. And just like before, the day seems brighter with you by his side.

As the path comes to an end, it splays out into an open circular garden brimming with vibrant colors, brimming with life.

In the very center, a willow tree with full, cascading leaves, standing tall surrounded by the most striking flowers he's ever seen.

You'd spent months working on it. A way to forgive. A way to say goodbye. A way to honor those fallen. And then finally, a way to move forward carrying the love and grief of your found family. "They're-"

"Poppies," Bucky finishes for you. The most strikingly red poppies he'd ever seen. The flower of remembrance, if Bucky remembers correctly. 

He wasn't sure if it was the sun or simply the high of being so close to you after so long, but they almost looked like they were glowing in the afternoon light.

His breath catches in his throat. The stones beneath his feet merge into a singular path. Still holding his hand, you guide him around the garden.

While he wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a flower person, he was struck by the vivid blues of the small path of flowers at the very end of the path.

The same color of that bright blue afternoon sky. The sky that reminded you of your twin flame. No matter how far apart, no matter how much time passed, he'd always be there. As unwavering, as bright eyed as the vast blue sky. "Those are forget me nots."

"It's beautiful," he whispers.

"It's a memory garden."

"You did all this?"

"Well, Sam helped with the stones and that little table over there, but I - I wanted to do it alone. I wanted to mourn them. I even picked different flowers for all them."

"You took the bad and turned it into something good."

It felt like a lifetime ago that you said those words to him. Your silent vow to your caretaker - that you would leave the world better than you entered it, that you would take the bad and turn it into something good.

It was the same vow you made to each and every member of your family, whether they were gone or simply lost, that you would turn the ache of grief into something good.

"You remember that?"

"Of course I did. I remember everything about you."

The words leave his lips so casually, like there is no other choice, all roads lead back to you. 

You find yourself momentarily at a loss for words, struck by Bucky's words. He really did remember. Those little, fleeting, stolen moments really meant as much to him as it did to you.

"We can sit here," you manage to rasp out, gesturing to the wooden picnic table at the end of the cobblestone path. "It'll be at least a few minutes before Sam finds us out here."

His hand rests on the center of the picnic table as he takes a seat across from you. "So?"

Your hand slides towards his, but you don't hold his hand. You stroke his fingers, circling and toying with his middle finger until you move onto the next finger. It's your habit, Bucky knows from seeing you twiddle and twist your fingers for years, but instead of reaching for your hand, you reach for his. You use him to ground yourself.

You smile up at him with a small shrug of your shoulders, "So?"

"I guess I'm a little curious," Bucky wonders. Sure, you hadn't completely lost touch with Bucky in these months, but you both gave each other the space to work things out. "Things seem like they're really working out."

"I'm hopeful."

"Me too." He can't remember the last time he said that word: hopeful. He doesn't remember the last time he truly, genuinely felt that either. Sitting here, with you, basking in the sun, that's exactly the feeling that swells in his ribcage. Hope. Hope with more on the horizon.

"Yeah... that lawyer, Matt, is great. He really helped us out. I know it's not over yet, but I think we're finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. They called me to testify in front of the Senate next week."

His shoulders tense as he hears the words leave your mouth in such a casual tone. "Wait, what?"

"Matt thinks it'll work in our favor," you explain. "He says it's no good hiding anymore. That - that people think I'm a hero, that they'll take my side."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow, his jaw squaring as he takes it all in. "You're putting a lot of trust into this guy, aren't you?"

"Sounds like someone is a little jealous," Sam sarcastically mutters from behind Bucky.

"Guess he found us again," Bucky grumbles. 

You reach across the table to grab Bucky's hand. "Don't be jealous. Matt's a good guy, but I won't lie, there was something a little off about him."

Bucky's eyebrows pull in. "Like what?"

You shrug. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's the fact that he's a blind vigilante that wanders around Hell's Kitchen on his off time," Sam deadpans, taking a seat beside you.

"No..." You shake your head, your mouth twisting as you try to place what exactly you found so strange about Matt Murdock. "I don't think that was it. I think it was his friend. He was nice, but what kind of name is Foggy?"

"What kind of name is Bucky?" Sam counters.

"I like his name, thank you very much," you retort.

Bucky can barely appreciate your defense of name as he tries to process everything that you and Sam have just thrown at him. "So you're telling me that you two have spent all this time with some vigilante-slash-lawyer and a guy named Foggy?"

"Exactly," you and Sam simultaneously reply. 

Bucky takes a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forgot how exhausting it is keeping up with you guys."

Sam snorts, "And that's not even the half of it."

"What more could there possibly be?"

"You're forgetting about Karli," Sam points out.

"Right," Bucky nods. "So where is she these days?"

"That's what Joaquin was doing after everything that happened in New York," Sam replies. "Apparently, it's not easy to find a safe place for one of the world's most wanted fugitive."

Bucky scoffs, "No kidding."

"She's somewhere safe. Somewhere we they can help her, teach her."

"I've visited her a few times. It's pretty cool. They call it a school for gifted kids, and it's actually like a real school," you explain, a look of wonder and awe shining in your eye. "They've got teachers to help with the powers. There's other kids that are like her. It's - it's the kind of place I would've really liked to grow up in."

That only leads him to yet another one of your many loose ends left to tie up. "Speaking of, no word from Fury?"

You take a large gulp of air. "Sorta."

"Really?" Bucky gapes.

"Well, we still have no idea where he is or how to get in touch with him. Plus, he's as cryptic as ever."

--

You sit on the dock, palms turned over in your lap, timing your breathing with the lapping waves below your feet. Sam clears his throat, "I have something for you."

Your shut eyes furrow at him, "Sam, I swear if it's another self help book-"

"Will you just look?"

You creak an eye open to see a thick, white envelope in Sam's hands, "What is that?"

"I don't know. It just showed up here, but look." You take the envelope from Sam, looking closely at the crisp white paper. On the corner, emblazoned on the envelope were the initials N.J.F.

"Do you think..?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. He was always a cryptic asshole," Sam shrugs. "I'll just give you a minute."

"No," you stop him. Though you were both at fault for Sam's absence on the day you returned to the place from before, you wanted him here for this. You wanted him here with you. You were ready to rebuild your found family once more. "Stay with me, please."

He smiles down at you, "I'll stay."

Both you and Sam wait with bated breath as you carefully tear the envelope open. On the inside resides a manila envelope with hundreds of pages neatly tucked inside.

"What is that?"

"I think it's your file," Sam replies. "I recognize it from when Fury first asked me to be your handler. It was a hell of a lot thinner back then."

"Do you know what's in it?"

"No idea. He showed me the first few pages and that's it. The rest was top secret."

You flip through pages and pages. You immediately recognize the handwriting occupying most of the pages, the handwriting of Nick Fury himself.

Pages and pages of his writings. All of them marked with his own thoughts, things he never told you, things you never knew.

'Intelligent... lacks even the most basic social skills.'

'Eager to learn. Even more eager to help.' 

'Pierce has dubbed her SHIELD's greatest asset. The antithesis to the fist of HYDRA...'

"The fist of HYDRA?" you ask.

"The Winter Solider - they called him the fist of HYDRA. Funny how that worked out."

The next line that catches your eye, you read aloud, "I fear for her. I fear she's too soft for it all. Every day, I come to the realization that she is not built for this line of work. Every day, I fear she has less and less of a choice."

There's something about that line in particular that hurts more than anything else. Nick was the one person that believed in you from the moment he met you. And even he doubted you could handle it all. "He didn't think I could handle it."

"No, he just thought you were meant for more," Sam objects.

You offer a small smile at Sam as you continue flipping to through the file. "Why do you think he sent this? Why now?"

"Look at that, on the last page," Sam points out.

"It's a note," you whisper.

"I'm still rooting for you. Even from afar." - Nicholas J. Fury.

--

"So you haven't talked to him."

"Not exactly," you admit. "He sent some old files over."

"He made contact by sending you his old junk," Bucky surmises. 

"I think it was his way of reminding me that I'm not alone, that he's still here, somewhere."

At least, that's what you believed. You believed that in his own Nick Fury way, he cared about you. In his own way, he might've seen you as a daughter as much as you saw him as a father.

And someday, you hoped you could tell him that. 

That only reminded you of yet another thing you had yet to fill Bucky in. You weren't even sure how to tell him, or if he'd look at you and think you were crazy.

In the days after coming home, you spent hours ruminating over those flashes of memories. Memories of Tony, Natasha, and Steve. A moment in the Compound that you were sure never actually happened, but felt so intimately real.

It was Steve's words reminding you that Nick Fury cared about you that made receiving that package from Nick easier.

You decided that it was real. Every part of it. Somehow. Some way. The universe had gifted you one final goodbye, one last moment with those you held so dear.

It was as real as the friendship you and Tony had despite those dark moments. It was as real as Steve's familiar scent filling your nose as he apologized for hurting you. As real as the way Natasha held you while telling you that you changed Karli's story.

You didn't know how or why, but you were gifted one last moment with each of them. And there was nothing more real than the love you would always have for your found family. 

You decide that's a story for another time. 

You smile at Sam, then at Bucky, "Things really worked out for us, didn't they?"

"It's about damn time," Bucky grunts.  

The Louisiana air fills your lungs as you look up to the sun, basking in the feeling of the warmth and sunshine bathing you. "I'll never get tired of the Sunshine."

Bucky watches you for a long moment. It was a sight to behold. Watching you stare up at the sky once more. He couldn't count how many times he'd prayed to anyone who would listen that he would get to witness that one last time.

All the times he saw you stare at the floor, bogged down by everything that tried to dim your brightness. He always wished you would stare up at the sky just one more time.

In his experience, people always looked worse in the light. People shied away from the light for fear of seeing all the cracks in the foundation, all the darkness that lurked beneath. You didn't have that problem.

And for someone like him, someone deprived of light for so long, he was glad that he could finally bask in the warmth. He was glad he finally stepped into the daylight.

As you sat before him, head thrown back, a smile planted on your face, he swears he's never seen you look more free, more at peace. He would never get tired of Sunshine either. "Me neither."

Sam gently pats your shoulder, rising from his seat, "Well, now that we're all caught up, we should head back before Sarah starts a search party."

"Why don't you go and we'll be right behind you?" Bucky sarcastically offers.

"Ha, ha," Sam stiltedly laughs, shooting Bucky a glare. "Not a chance."

"Come on, James." You extend a hand to Bucky, nudging your chin towards the house. "That way we can tell Sarah that Sam was using AJ and Cass to spy on us."

Bucky takes your hand, smirking at Sam, "That's a great idea."

"So this is how it's gonna be now? You and Bucky... and Sam?" Sam calls as you and Bucky start walking back to the house. "You guys are terrible friends!"

"Did you hear something?" you sarcastically ask Bucky.

He smirks over his shoulder. "No, not a thing."

"You guys could at least wait for me!" Sam calls as you three walk back through the house. "You know, I thought it would take longer for you two to forget about me."

"There you guys are," Sarah playfully exclaims as walk down the porch steps. "I was about to send a search party for you."

"Told you so," Sam smugly remarks.

"Would it be morally wrong to push him off the dock?" Bucky audibly wonders.

"Hmm..." You rest your hand on his arm, guiding him away from Sam and the dock, "I want to say no, but I'm leaning towards yes."

The day passes with a lightness that none of you have felt in quite some time. And while you all know that all of your problems hadn't been solved quite yet, there is no foreboding sense of doom building along the horizon. It feels right.

For the first time in a long time, you feel whole.

Sitting across from Sam, beside Bucky, gorging on food, the smell of the fresh water and the sounds of kids running around, it feels like you're finally in the right place at the right time. And perhaps most importantly, with people you could call yours.

You rest your head on Bucky's shoulder. "So what about you?"

Though he'd deny it for the rest of his life, Sam smiles at the sight of peace that flashes on Bucky's face as you curl against him.

Bucky hums thoughtfully, "Honestly, it's been quiet. Mostly therapy. I told Yuri about his son."

"How did he take it?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Bucky solemnly responds, his mouth twisting as he recalls the heartbroken look on Yuri's face when he told him about his son's death. "But he knows, he doesn't have to wonder anymore."

You lace your fingers with his, gently squeezing his hand, "I knew you would do the right thing. You always do."

You end the day sitting beside Bucky on the dock you'd spent so many days sitting and staring up at the sky wishing for this very moment. The moment that brought you back to him, finally back to him.

While flashes of the battle may always come back to you in a blur, you could also see all the light the future held for you. At last, all of you, all of him intertwined.

And in this moment in time, your little found family, you had all finally found your peace.

As the sun sets over the horizon, you rest your head on Bucky's shoulder, melted into his embrace. "Sometimes, I can't believe it."

Bucky looks down at you. "What?"

"That we survived. That we're here. Together. For a long time, I thought I'd lost you. I really thought I'd lost you."

"You couldn't lose me," he promises. He stares at you in awe as you watch the sun sink beneath the horizon. And in that moment, he knows, he's finally found his way back to you. His soul, his heart had found its rightful place in this world. And whatever the future might hold, at least he'd have you by his side. "Not then. Not now. Not ever. It's you and me."

"Ahem..." Sam clears his throat from behind where you and Bucky sit.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "And Sam too."

"If you insist," Bucky grunts.

"It's me and you." It's more than a promise, it's an unspoken vow. A vow to always find your way back to him. A vow to reach for his hand even in times of darkness. A vow to always be his. 

You intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing his hand three times, "It's me and you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

And that's (officially) a wrap on The Twin Flame. Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I love you all. 💛 (Stay tuned, dear readers, I've got some extras coming your way…)

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky @roseproseposts @theoraekenslover @king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24