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miekasa · 3 years

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random armin/mikasa/jean headcanons (college au)

↯ pairing: armin x (fem) reader, mikasa x (fem) reader, jean x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, lets see how many times i can mention eren in writing that has absolutely nothing to do with him

↯ notes: this.... probably won’t be a regular thing, i don’t know that i can consistently continue writing for them, but this sure was fun and reminded me that i actually have feelings for someone other than levi :// didn’t ask for that, but here we are

ARMIN ARLERT

Would most likely get pretty good grades, but he can definitely be lazy about it and hear me out.

If it’s a class that he likes and is genuinely interested in (which is the majority of them), he’s going to put in the work—sometimes too much work—to make sure he’s doing well. He usually studies very meticulously, and stays on top of his game throughout the semester.

But if it’s one of those bs classes the university makes you take, or some kind of stupid elective that was the only course that could fit into his schedule? Well, Armin is smart enough to bullshit his way through anything, so he’s not going to exert himself for a class he doesn’t even care about.

Oh, and he’s very vocal about complaining to you about said bullshit courses. (Completely justified, go off king).

“I swear sometimes the TA just lowers marks randomly to ‘keep the class average.’ Granted, I didn’t really study for the quiz, so I wasn’t expecting a stellar grade or anything, but I know they do that sometimes.” “Well, babe, why didn’t you study.” “Because I hate it, (Y/N).”

Like I said, takes school seriously and tries his best; but even he knows he doesn’t have to be at 100% all the time. It’s also kind of a flex how smart he is and how much he can get by on doing the absolute bare minimum.

Poor Connie is studying his ass off for their shared elective and Armin barely looked at the first page of the textbook, and he’ll probably get a 90 anyways.

Imagine he’s so caught up with his other classes, he actually forgets about a midterm for his stupid elective, and at first he’s freaking out, so you kind of have to remind him of who tf he is. You finally get him to relax and he blinks at you, “Oh right, I didn’t study because I didn’t have to haha nice.”

Helps you prepare for presentations by letting you practice them in front of him. Actually gives good feedback, but sometimes he’s just watching you and not really listening.

Sometimes, you have to be the one to remind him to take a step back and take care of himself, before his schoolwork. He doesn’t like to worry you, and likely feels guilty when he sees you walking up to him in the library at 2am; so he won’t fight you on it, and just lets you help him pack up all his stuff and head home for the day.

Likes head massages. Maybe sometimes has faked a little bit of a headache to get you to massage his head and play with his hair. He’ll never tell.

If you rub his cheek while he’s laying on top of you, he will knock out like a baby. Almost immediately. It’s a surefire way to get him to go to sleep.

Schedules dates with you, and plans them out meticulously. Sometimes gets playful and sends you a whole ass e-vite.

“Armin, why do I have an email invitation for our date to the library?” “So that you don’t forget, of course.” “How could I forget, it’s later today, and you’re literally helping me study for my midterm.” “With popcorn!”

Probably the type to get a job on campus. You and your friends come to visit him when he’s on shift and annoy him. He secretly likes it.

Oh, he’s kind of shady. Scratch that, can be very shady. He complains about school to you, but also just complains to you in general; he doesn’t outwardly do that a lot, but you’re his confidant.

Sometimes you get surprised and call him out on it and you’re like “Oh my god, Armin, the poor girl didn’t mean to mess up the project,” and he’s like “Well. Sometimes people are idiots and it has to be said.”

Has a bad habit of rolling his eyes and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Did you just roll your eyes at me.” “I don’t know, did I?” Bye.

His hands are always covered in some kind of ink/markings. Accidental brushes of his pens, streaks from his highlighters or markers, a little bit of lead from his pencil along the side of his palm.

Speaking of which, he strikes me as the kind of guy to keep a bullet journal. Not necessarily decked out and fancy with Polaroids and extravagant fonts; but definitely neat, and decorated to some extent, depending on how he’s feeling. It makes him feel organized.

He would pencil in important dates and markers of your relationship into said journal. “Friday night: museum date—remember to buy the tickets in advance.”

If anyone is going to buy, wash, peel, and cut up fruit for you, it’s going to be Armin.

Lowkey tutoring all of his friends, and might be the sole reason that Connie hasn’t dropped out yet. He likes tutoring you the most, though.

Get this, sometimes he asks you to tutor him, even if he knows damn well he doesn’t need it. Maybe he’ll even sign up for a stupid elective if it’s a class you’ve taken before, just to have an excuse to get you to teach him something.

Likes trying new things with you. He might not always like the new things that you try, but he’s open to trying them at least once. Well… most things anyways. Just don’t ask him to get up at dawn and go jogging with you.

I genuinely cannot tell if he would be a morning person or not. Maybe mid-morning. Probably not a rise-and-shine at 6am kind of guy, but is up by at least 10:00am every day. Very cute when he’s groggy though, and stumbles around a bit like a baby deer when he first gets up, especially if he’s hungry.

He likes to bike. And really likes when you go on bike rides with him. As long as you both are on your own bikes, you learned the hard way that tandem biking isn’t cut out for you.

Knows that all-nighters aren’t good for you, but sometimes you have to pull them anyways. If you both have a lot to get done, he’ll stay up with you and make sure you both take breaks and drink water.

Can twirl his pens in that really fast and fancy way, and can do the thing where he rolls it between all his fingers too. I’ll let you think bout the implications of that for yourself.

He likes watching cartoons, and reels you into all his favorites. Definitely likes to stay in on weekends watching cartoons with you and just chilling.

Will go to a party with you if you ask, or if his friends are hosting, but nothing beyond that. You didn’t hear this from me, but he’d probably like to smoke more than drink.

Sometimes you think he needs a break and you commission Eren to take him out for the night, but Armin still comes back looking more composed than him. A little sleepy and maybe a bit out of it, but not sloshed, much to your disappointment. “Eren, you really couldn’t have tried to be more a bad influence?? I was counting on you!!”

Eren’s confused, like, “Did you want me to get him white boy wasted??” “Yeah, kinda!! It’s what he deserves every once in a while. Ugh, next time I’m calling in Sasha, she knows how to drink.”

By the way, if you’re dating Armin, you’re kind of dating (or at least babysitting) Eren too. Or vice versa. Either way, they will also go on dates without you. (“Hanging out. We’re hanging out, and I’m tutoring him so he doesn’t fail Biology, (Y/N).” “Likely story, ocean eyes.”)

Can be touchy in a very absentminded way. He’ll reach out to play with your ears/earrings, habitually rub at your shoulders if you’re standing in front of him, mindlessly toy with the ends of your clothing. Half the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he’s so cute.

Plays one sport—is on the soccer team. It keeps him busy, and forces him to focus on something that isn’t academics once in a while. He’s pretty good at it, too; he and Eren make a good team when they play together.

You and Eren tried to get him to join the baseball team too. Eren, because he likes playing with Armin. You, because, well… the uniforms. He would look so good in the uniform.

MIKASA ACKERMAN

Makes her classes look like a breeze, even though it’s at least 300 pages of reading and writing per week.

Kind of gives me Elle Woods “What, like it’s hard?” kind of vibes when it comes to schoolwork. You’re in awe of how she just did 75 pages of reading with a tiny ass font in one sitting, and she just blinks at you like “Was it supposed to be difficult?”

Speaking of which, she likes to read in general; for leisure, outside of her school work. She’ll recommend you books, too. If you don’t like to read, she’ll still try and rope you in with shorter stories, or just read them aloud to you herself.

Sits at a table across from you while you both do your schoolwork independently. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a quiet, almost implicit sense of intimacy that she really likes.

Bundles you up when it’s cold, and won’t take no for an answer. You will wear a hat, whether you like it or not.

Always prepared—and by that I mean, she carries things on her that she realizes you might need. Tissues, extra pens, an extra pair of mittens. She strikes me as the kind of person to pay attention to details like those.

Likes to walk you to class, even if her class is very far away from your building. She doesn’t mind.

On that note, she knows your schedule pretty well, where it pertains to classes and personal interests.

If you’re the type of person who can slack off or even just get caught up in other things when it comes to school work, she’ll be there to keep you on track and hold you accountable. Usually through setting aside times to study with you, but can even be through small things like asking you how your assignment is going.

(Nevermind that you completely forgot about the assignment, and hadn’t even started it—but that’s the point; she knew that).

Hear me out: holding pinkies. Maybe not when you’re walking, but when you’re seated next to each other. The longer you’re together, the more likely she is to initiate it, too.

Would rather study at home/in her apartment than in the library, but if you like to study there, she can compromise a few days out of the week.

Makes you playlists, and they’re usually really good, because she knows you so well. Sometimes she gets cute and customizes the cover art to a picture of the both of you.

She’s your ride or die, so if you complain to her about a prof you don’t like or a TA you don’t think is fair she’s 100% on your side. She might not always be able to do anything about it, but she’ll definitely let you complain to her.

Texts you throughout the day to check up on you, but usually disguised through other questions. Asks what you want/had for lunch when she’s really checking to make sure you ate. Asks you what time your lectures end, just to make sure you didn’t skip it (again). Asks you what time you’re going to be done studying to make sure you don’t stay up all night cramming again.

Takes a genuine interest in your courses, and absolutely loves to listen to you talk about them.

If your classes are vastly different, she’ll still try and help you however she can, even if it’s only in small ways, like proofreading something for you.

Doesn’t use emojis alot, so your contact doesn’t have a bunch of hearts next your name on anything. But she does put your last name in as Ackerman.

Has social media, but mostly uses it to keep up with her friends, and you. You’re in most of the few pictures that she does post, and she might not say it, but she really likes it when you post photos of/with her.

Not sure why, but I think she’d be a pretty decent artist if she tried. That trend of doing glass paintings on TikTok? I think she’d be into that, and would plan out the whole thing as a date with you.

Keeps up with all your favorite shows to talk about or watch them with you. Sometimes she’ll purposely miss a few episodes so that she can spend the night and marathon them with you.

Likes to stay in and drink cheap wine and just watch or talk about whatever with you. You could watch a terrible show just to laugh and comment on it the entire time and she would be so happy.

Doesn’t like to sit down on public transportation, and honestly would rather you didn’t either, but she’s not going to stop you from taking a seat. If you’re sitting, she’ll stand in front of/over you, and always keeps wire headphones long enough for you to share music that way.

The most insufferable human when she’s sick and she knows it. She hates being sick. And she knows you shouldn’t be around her or else you might get sick but she also just wants you to hold her. (You do).

Likes to sleepover at your place. Talks with you about your day while you lay down. Always smells good. Very cuddly when sleepy. 10/10.

Hates the act of doing her laundry, but likes doing it with you. Lowkey starts buying and using the same detergent and fabric softener as you because it makes her smell like you.

Gets very embarrassed if you kiss her in public. Very red in the cheeks, it’s kind of cute, so I wouldn’t blame you if you did it on purpose.

JEAN KIRSTEIN

Jean is… quite smart, if you ask me. Or, at the very least, analytical, which can be applied to a variety of academic settings.

The only thing is, he’s incredibly lazy about it. He wants to do well in school, and can definitely pull himself together for a midterm or an exam; but is horrible at keeping pace with all his other work and assignments on a regular basis.

He also can’t sit still, which is why even though he is very kind and chivalrous and brings many snacks to your study sessions, he is also competing for number one worst study partner. Right next to Eren and Sasha.

Gets pouty when you tell him you don’t want to study with him. “But… but… but I brought snacks! And bubble tea!” “Yes, but you also have the attention span of a rabbit, Jean.”

At the end of the day he understands… that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be bitter about it LOLOL. It’s fine, you can make it up to him by hanging out with him afterwards.

Is, like, classically trained in at least two instruments because his mom put him in lessons as a child. He used to hate it growing up, and he doesn’t practice much now, so he never talks about it.

One day you happen to mention something about comparing two songs, telling him they remind you of each other but you don’t know exactly why or why, and very nonchalantly he’s like, “They sound similar because they share the same major chord in the chorus, and they’re in the same key.”

And you just kind of blink at him like, “Okay, Beethoven. How. How did you know that.”

Once you realize he can, like, actually play the piano and violin really well you’re always begging him to play for you. It doesn’t happen often—it’s not like he owns a violin anymore and he certainly doesn’t have a grand piano in his shitty college apartment—but sometimes you sneak into the music room when it’s empty and he’ll play something for you.

He’s a romantic at heart, so he doesn’t mind, and if anything kind of enjoys you watching him play. It’s much better than playing for random parents in a recital. You’re dead if you ever mention it to any of his friends though.

Also not a frat boy, but definitely likes to party. Everything with reason. If he crushed a midterm on Thursday, he deserves to throw back a few beers on Friday night, you know?

Touchy when he’s drunk. Well, touchier than normal; he’d be the most affectionate out of every one on a regular basis. But he’s touchy and messy when he’s drunk, so he’s all over you.

Messy, but happy. All smiles and giggles and red cheeks, with his arm around your shoulder, boasting you anybody who will listen about his super hot girlfriend.

He and Eren throw the best parties when they team up together. (Only slightly related, but those two, when drunk together, could probably pass as a couple; they’re so uncharacteristically happy, and affectionate. You may or may not be keeping some photo and video evidence of Eren and Jean drunk cuddling).

Sends you videos when you’re in the middle of class. And only then. He plans it to be annoying. Because he is annoying.

Also always sending you those in-messsage games while you’re in the middle of lecture or studying. “PLEASE play virtual pool with me!! I’ll even let you win one round!!” “I AM TRYING TO LEARN!!” “LEARN LATER 😡😡😡”

A fucking fiend in your Instagram comments. It’s a miracle none of them have been removed or reported for inappropriate content. Replies to OTHER people’s comments complimenting YOU!! He’s so much

@sashabraus: aww you look so cute @youruser!! that color looks so good on you 💕 @jeannotjean: omg omg tysm @sashabraus 😊 i picked it myself @youruser: SHE WAS TALKING TO ME @jeannotjean!!! ME!!! @jeannotjean: @youruser you have no proof 🙄 @youruser: SHE USED MY @!!!! GET OUT OF MY COMMENTS!!! @jeannotjean: you’re so hot when you yell at me via insta comments 🥵🥵🥵 would it be better if i slid into your dm’s instead 😫😫😉 @youruser: @jeannotjean BLOCKED!! EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY!!

You try explaining your coursework to him and he’s just looking at you with puppy dog eyes like, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, babe, but you look hot while doing it, so, please, continue.”

He’s another cocky annoying bastard (endearing). Always tilting you head up to look at him and smirk at you. Pisses you off just to put his arm around your shoulder and be like, “It’s okay, I know you love me anyways.” Winks at you in public just to embarrass you. He’s the worst. The worst.

King of picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder for absolutely no reason at all.

He lowkey wants to get an ear piercing and uses you to talk him into it. “Don’t you think I’d look hot with a piercing? I think I would.” “You would look good regardless, Jean. So, do it if you want to.” “Right. But, like.... do you think I would look hot.”

For as annoying and cocky as he can be, the second you actually genuinely tell him you think he’s attractive or talented or whatever, he gets kind of shy. It’s very cute.

Likes trying new restaurants with you, even though he really should stop spending all his money on food. Sometimes trying new restaurants means ordering from a new place, but it’s whatever, you know.

Honestly… the two of you would probably have a ridiculously high Uber Eats bill. You really should go outside and, like, be people every once in a while LOLOL

Okay, but it’s mostly Jean’s fault. For as much as he likes to party, and doesn’t mind hosting a party, he doesn’t do much beyond that. He hangs out with his/your friends, and with you, obviously, but he’s not the kind of guy to have his weekend booked up all the time.

He would much rather stay in with you, and talk trash about his stupid group project partners, and lay on your stomach and try to teach you how to play his favorite video games.

Spoiler: he fucking lies and/or leaves out key parts of the gameplay!! Just so he can crush you and laugh about it!! Annoying, but you’re the one keeping him around, so, who can you really blame but yourself.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #jean x reader #mikasa x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #aot jean #eren x reader

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ellewords · 3 years

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atsumu was like the sun. he shined and glowed and warmed people just by being near them. without a single thought, he was able to brighten the mood in ways that no one else could. even on his darker days or when his being felt too harsh, he left an impact that made everyone long for more. you couldn’t always see him, couldn’t always feel his presence, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there somehow, unseen but known.

by association, that sort of made you the moon. you could shine brightly and leave a warm glow and comfort others when they felt like they were in the dark. but all of that wasn’t possible without the sun. without atsumu.

people didn’t know you unless you were by atsumu’s side. they didn’t spare you a glance until atsumu brought attention to you. but you didn’t mind. all you wanted was to have him by your side, to support you when you couldn’t hold yourself up, to be brilliant beside him even if you would never outshine him. you were content in your current situation.

so why did it hurt so much seeing him continue to shine? why did his warmth suddenly feel so cold? why couldn’t you be as bright as him all on your own?

or, atsumu will always be the sun, you always the moon. maybe now it’s time to accept that you’re nothing without him so you can finally shine for yourself.

-💛

— from elle ! 💛anon you never miss, do you? aaaa this was so good it lived in my head rent free ever since i first read it >_< i just had to write an addition to this for the way you made my heart actually ache. i hope i did your drabble justice :<< this just hit a lil too close to home ngl thank you for reading everyone, i hope you like this! reblogs are appreciated, they help a ton <3

fic notes / warnings : timeskip!miya atsumu x gn!reader, angst, fluff (-ish? kinda) ending, oneshot, wc: ~1.52k (!! my longest margins addition so far omg)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

atsumu has a gravitational pull, that much has always been clear to you and everyone else; a pull so strong that you can’t help but orbit around him. every room he walks into, he commands the attention of everyone present. one can’t help but simply be drawn to him — with his bright smiles, boisterous laughs, and larger than life movements. it’s no wonder why everything seems to bend to his will, how the universe seems to revolve around him.

you’ve moved around him for as long as you can remember, every now and then, he lets you borrow his light. the world has associated you with him and you don’t blame anyone one bit.

his name has always come first. setter for the inarizaki volleyball team, miya atsumu. invited to the all-japan youth intensive training camp, miya atsumu. captain of the inarizaki volleyball team, miya atsumu. setter for division one volleyball team, the msby black jackals, miya atsumu.

meanwhile, yours is treated as an afterthought, an attachment, a footnote in the awe-inspiring narrative of his life. you’re known as his childhood friend. his best friend, the one who cheers him on from the stands in every single one of his games. alleged significant other, according to whispers in the hallway and to the tabloids and paparazzi. his eventual confirmed significant other, ln yn.

atsumu and who’s that with him? atsumu and his best friend. atsumu and his significant other. atsumu, oh, and yn’s here too. it’s always atsumu before yn; his name before yours. sometimes, you wonder if anyone would know your name if he hadn’t started dating you.

you walk behind atsumu, not beside him, when you enter a room. fingertips loosely intertwined with his, you attempt to keep your head up as atsumu introduces you around. they spare you a quick “hi”, before beginning a conversation with your sun.

though he’s not really your sun, is he? you’ve always had to share him with everyone else. everyone needs a little sunshine in their life, a little warmth; his brilliance is dazzling, like everyone else, you revelled in his glow.

the world has always associated you with him, but it never worked the other way around. atsumu has always shined on his own; you needed him to have light for yourself.

no one blames the sun for burning a little too bright; it’s simply the way it is. similarly, you’ve never blamed atsumu for being the way he is. he doesn’t know, didn’t mean to do it in the first place. atsumu has always existed for himself, lived life the way he sees fit.

you can’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to. even if you forced yourself to.

staring at the sun is fascinating, but do it long enough and it starts to hurt. the warmth is no longer comforting, but harsh and prickly. the light is no longer magical and dazzling, but blinding and terrifying. it took some time, but you eventually convinced yourself to look away.

“ya sure ya wanna do this?” atsumu asked, immediately recognizing your hesitance. he doesn’t want to break up, he wants you to take your words back, he wants you to tell him that this was all just some sick prank. but right now, it doesn’t matter what he wants. what matters is how you feel, the emotions he didn’t realize you had been feeling.

“no…” you mumbled. the intensity of his gaze makes your knees buckle, but you stand your ground. even in the chilling darkness of his living room, he radiates light and understanding, making everything all the more difficult. you bite the inside of your cheek, letting a few beats pass before your next words, “but i have to.”

“i believe in you,” atsumu nodded, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans. he lets out a quiet exhale, eyes gazing on the suitcases in your hand, “yer gonna do so many amazin’ things.”

your grip on the bag’s handle tightened. it was the end of an era, one that you didn’t expect would be ending at all. but it had to be done. for the first time since you met atsumu, you finally began to think of yourself. a small smile plays on your lips, hoping that he picks up on the pure gratefulness of your tone, “thank you for lending me your light.”

his reply would play in a loop in your mind. even in a breakup, the darkest the night has ever been, atsumu offers you a little bit of light. as expected from the sun.

the moon goes through several phases. some days are better than others. it’s a wave of several highs and lows, but you grow to understand that’s how things are. on some nights it’s as invisible as they come, the clouds blocking out what little light it already produced. though it glowed on other nights, you often feel like nothing has changed. but you learn to trust the process either way.

gazing at the moon is calming, not dazzling and exceptional, but calming. it provides peace, serenity. you often gazed at the moon, especially on the nights where you could only toss and turn. a cold breeze would blow past you and send shivers down your spine, painting your bare skin with several goosebumps. leaning on the balcony railing and taking in the sounds of a city that barely slept makes you think of him.

you miss the sun; you miss your sun. you miss his presence and the warmth he brings you. atsumu checks in every now and then, asking how you’re doing and wondering if you’d ever want to meet for a cup of coffee. you’ve never accepted any of his offers for fear of only getting pulled back in.

you’ve never realized that you always had a gravitational pull of your own. atsumu spends most of his nights gazing at the moon. when his heart raced and his mind buzzed, the moon brought him tranquility — as did you, his anchor.

[ miya atsumu ] : the night sky is nice tonight, it makes me think of you. i like that we’re always looking at the same one.

[ miya atsumu ] : i hope you’re doing okay.

he’s right, the night sky does look nice. the moon is full and shining the brightest you’ve ever seen it shine. gleaming, enchanting, and breathtaking doesn’t seem to do its beauty any justice. perhaps the poets and artists had been right all along, the moon is the perfect muse. your thoughts almost convince you that its light isn’t artificial. but twinkling beside the moon are the stars, shimmering high above the world you know, their light completely their own.

you’re not okay. being the moon may not be too bad, but you’ve already realized that you want to be amongst the stars as one.

days turn into weeks, and eventually months. sometimes they blend together when nothing of interest or importance happens, though you strive for events that are worth remembering. you’ve found a job that you actually like, one that you truly excelled at. you’ve started to put yourself out there, to meet people that pushed you to be better than you had been the day before. slowly but surely, you began to create your own light.

some days your light faltered, some days are dimmer than others, but it was a light of your own. it’s one that didn’t need another’s glow to exist. soon enough, you find yourself accepting one of atsumu’s many offers for a cup of coffee.

he’s now brighter than ever. setter for division one volleyball team, the msby black jackals, miya atsumu, has turned into setter for japan’s olympic team, miya atsumu. his radiance is as blinding as ever, the largest grin on his face as he waves his hand out the second he caught sight of you.

but you’re brighter now too, weaving through the cafe tables with your head up high. you’re more sure of yourself, standing taller, making each step towards him with purpose. you’ve lost the tension in your shoulders, the weight that built in your chest. and atsumu notices it too.

“you’ve changed.” he smiles, much softer than you’re used to. his gaze is fond as you settle in the seat in front of him.

“i know,” you reply, the corners of your lips twitching upwards, “but thank you for lending me your light.”

atsumu’s smile remains that same soft one that you’re not used to as he recognizes your words almost immediately. he leans back in his seat, gesturing a hand to you, “never gave ya anythin’, this is all you.”

he replies with the same words he said several months ago, the latter half of the sentence being the only addition. warmth fills your chest as he never lost a single ounce of sincerity. the only difference? this time you actually believe him.

atsumu may still be the sun, but you’ve become a star in your own right; you no longer need him to shine. maybe someday you’ll shine bright enough to allow yourself to exist beside him. but for now, this is enough.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

send me a hc / or a scenario ! <3 | written on the margins masterlist

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

About Time (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader’s offer to help Morgan renovate one of his properties makes Spencer jealous enough to confess what he never could before.

A/N: I try to avoid specific Reid eras in my works so that it can be up to you how you imagine him, but please just imagine seasons 1 or 2 Spencer - I’m telling you it’ll make the experience richer. Also, I might improve this fic in the near future bc I’m not entirely happy with it. Category: Drabble, Fluff Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: None Word Count: 2.5k Playlist: Would You Be So Kind by Dodie

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Clink … Clink … Clink …

The repetitive noise was barely discernible at first, then it became all that I could focus on.

In an attempt to find the source, I looked up from my paperwork and scanned the room. It only took me half a second to discover that Morgan was the culprit.

From across the round table, I watched as Derek absentmindedly stirred his coffee and sugar together, making a ‘clink’ noise each time his spoon hit the rim of the cup. This wouldn’t have been bothersome had it not persisted for more than 10 minutes which, by all accounts, is plenty of time for the sugar to dissolve.

“Derek… ” I sort of sang, trying to capture his attention as nicely as possible.

“Derek.” I repeated, this time a little less quietly and a little more sharply. Still, my voice did nothing to stop the noisy stirring of his coffee. I stayed silent for a second, just in case he finally noticed I was speaking to him, but when he didn’t, I gave a concerned look to Spencer beside me as if to ask if he was seeing what I was and he returned just the same expression of confusion.

That’s when I knew something was wrong.

“Derek!” I said even louder, finally catching his attention.

His head snapped in my direction, his ghost-like countenance falling away after looking directly at me. I was relieved to see proof of life had been regained behind his eyes. The abrupt reaction made me squint harder in his direction to decipher what was truly going on. “Is everything okay? You were kind of zoning out just now.”

He sighed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just had a late night last night and I didn’t go to bed till three this morning.”

“Oh?” I asked coyly. “And what was her name?” I brought my mug to my lips to hide my growing smirk behind the rim.

He didn’t catch on right away, which to me was more than enough evidence that he wasn’t well. He was usually the first to be aware of an innuendo, maybe even the one to be making it. “Whose name?”

“The girl that kept you up till three this morning.” I mimicked his voice in crude yet playful imitation.

To this, he shook his head and rolled his eyes with a grin. “Alright, get your pretty lil’ head out of the gutter, Kitten. I was busy fixing up a property I got down in Emporia. Lost track of time. That’s all.”

Whether or not he was hiding something more, I didn’t care anymore. He’d piqued my interest in this new topic. “Emporia? That’s like 2 or 3 hours away.”

His eyebrows lifted in agreement. “Yeah, like I said - late night.”

Not even trying to tempt him with my words, I simply remarked, “But I mean it can’t be that hard though, right? Fixing up the house?”

There was no verbal response from him, only a mirthless chuckle.

I was less careful with my words than I should’ve been, letting them flow through my mouth without filtering them first. “I’m just saying, I worked with Habitat For Humanity for years. We built thousands of houses from scratch, each of them within a matter of days.”

He sat up in his seat and leaned forward to assert himself. It was nearly the same mannerisms he would display in an interview when he wanted to maintain dominance. “Well, that’s because you got how many people working on one house?”

When I didn’t answer, he simply tapped the table and leaned back comfortably in his seat, prematurely relishing in a self-proclaimed victory. “Yeah, exactly. Whereas, it’s just little ol’ me fixing up these properties.”

“Okay, then I’ll help you.”

He only snickered in response, lending way for me to believe he didn’t trust that I’d provide any sort of productive assistance.

“I will!” I insisted. “Since you’re so convinced those houses were only built as fast as they were because it was a group effort, I want to prove to you that it’s actually because I’m just a fast worker.”

“It’s not a race, Kitten. All I said was it took me a while to fix up the house. I don’t need you to help. And I wouldn’t be paying you even if you did, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m not doing this for money,” I reasserted. “I’m doing this for pride. I know I’m right, and I want you to know it, too.”

It’s worth mentioning that Derek and I made these kinds of bets all the time. Our friendship was practically built on the foundation of competition. The first interaction I ever had with him was when he came up to me while I was arranging my desk to ask what I thought the odds were that he could toss his paper ball into the trashcan across the bullpen.

Years Ago . . .

“What are the chances I’ll make the shot?” I heard a deep, unfamiliar voice inquire from behind me.

“You’re aiming for the trashcan all the way over there? No way.” This voice I knew was Elle’s. She’d been the second person to introduce herself to me and if I had to guess, the deeper voice belonged to the guy I recalled sitting diagonally from her. I made eye contact with him when I initially walked in, but he hadn’t taken the time to introduce himself to me, nor I to him. He seemed a little preoccupied … making a paper ball and all.

“Actually, if Morgan’s throw had specific arc, the trajectory of the ball would -”

“He’s not making it, Reid.” Elle cut off the small, almost mousy voice promptly, shutting down any ‘pro-Morgan-making-the-shot’ argument he was about to make.

You could get a lot from just listening. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I like to call it being observant, and from what I’d observed

A) The one throwing the ball was Morgan.

B) The smart-sounding one was Reid.

C) Reid was a proponent of Morgan, so I could assume they were close friends.

D) There were three very distinct, very different personalities in this general vicinity of desks alone.

“O’ ye of little faith! Gimme a break, Elle. You’re just busting my balls ‘cause Reid came to me about Lila before he came to you.”

“That has nothing to do with the fact that I’m right.”

“No, but it means you have bias.” Derek retorted.

“Fine then. If it means that much to you to have an unbiased opinion, let’s ask someone impartial - like Anderson.”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” The deep voice said as soon as I’d placed the last item on my desk - a stack of sticky notes in the shape of a cat’s face that’d been gifted to me the moment I exited the elevator by Penelope Garcia.

“Excuse me, Kitten,” The deep voice purred. “You think I could get this ball into that trash bin right over there?”

It took me a second to register that he was addressing me until I realized where the nickname originated from and that it had belonged to me - I could thank Penelope for that.

“Oh, um …” I looked around the room like somehow it would have my answer. In some ways, it did.

I made contact with Reid first. He smiled weakly at me with tender awkwardness that melted my heart a little bit. Meanwhile, Elle’s eyes were luring me to join her on the dark side and say he wouldn’t make it. To be fair, riling him up seemed like fun. I’d be on Elle’s good side, gain her approval, and if I executed my jest playfully enough, I’d be on Morgan’s good side, too.

“No shot in hell, big guy.”

Present Time . . .

That’s how it all started - this sibling-like rivalry. Ever since then, we’ve been challenging each other like our lives depended on it. And if I had to make it my life’s mission to win this most recent bet, then so be it.

“Alright, kitten, I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll pick you up at 9 on Saturday.”

We sealed the deal with a cross-table handshake, and at that moment, I hadn’t realized it - only when I thought back to it, did I notice - Reid had been watching the entire interaction unfold. Misinterpreting every painstaking second of it.

_ _ _

Sticking true to his word, Derek had taken up my offer in spades. Not the least bit shy in delegating me each and every duty there could possibly be.

I’ll admit, he used my pride to his advantage. Because while I was practically doing all the handy-work imaginable inside the property, he was resting on his laurels outside, probably taking up the view of rolling green hills that went on forever just beyond the front yard.

It just so happened that that would be our maintained, respective locations for the unexpected arrival of Derek’s very first (very unhappy) guest.

I was inside painting when I heard the placid squeak of Derek getting up from his Adirondack chair on the wraparound porch. I remember peeking my head out of the doorway for a second to see if he was finally going to come inside and help me, but lo and behold, I caught him walking further away from the entrance. While I might’ve given an eye roll of annoyance at the action, I thought nothing of it. Not until I heard Derek speaking to an eerily familiar secondary voice.

“What are you doing here?” I could hear Derek ask. My ears had perked up like a dog on high alert.

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to … to -” The second voice stammered.

“Spit it out, kid!”

“You’re trying to steal my girl!” Whoever it was, was desperate to speak with conviction, maybe even malice, to prove some level of strength that could match Derek’s, but they tried and failed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steal your girl? What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“You know I like her! And yet you’re just hanging out with her alone now? On one of your desolate properties? Can’t you see how suspicious that looks? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

I’d stopped painting completely at this point so I could take asylum behind the closed door. I could place that voice anywhere, and I needed to press my ear against the only thing separating it from me to confirm what I already knew.

“Reid, I am your friend,” And there it was. Reid? “And as your friend, I’m telling you: lower your voice unless you want her to hear you.”

“Don’t patronize me. Just tell me,” Spencer, if anything, spoke louder. Perhaps he did want me to hear him, or he simply wanted to defy Derek. “Why do you flirt with her?”

“Flirt?” Derek seemed appalled at the word. It would’ve been offensive that he was disgusted at the thought of engaging with me in that manner had I not felt the same way. What we were doing was not flirting - by any stretch of the imagination.

“You know what I’m talking about. You call her ‘Kitten,’ you both make sexual innuendos that you think fly over my head, you invite her to come over.”

“Slow your roll, Pretty Boy. First of all, ‘Kitten’ is just a nickname I gave her the first time we met because I didn’t know what her actual name was. You know that - you were there. Second, the sexual innuendos are just playful jabs at the fact that I sleep around. Low hanging-fruit. Third, inviting her to come over might seem suspicious, but if you walk in there right now, you’ll see that nothing is going on between us. She’s just here to help.”

I wanted any excuse to walk out there myself and announce my nearby presence. Confront Spencer and tell him I heard everything. Ask him where any of this was coming from. How he could think, for even a second, that there was something between me and Morgan.

Turns out, I didn’t need an excuse. I had already walked out.

Spencer gulped hard when he saw me. And for that I felt sorry for him. He looked so unlike himself. His hair was disheveled like he’d ran his fingers through it a million times out of stress. His outfit was strangely untidy, the buttons of his cuff unclasped. “Could you ... did you-”

“I heard everything,” I clarified to the dumbfounded shell of a man standing at the base of Morgan’s stairs.

It was a triangle of stares between us all. Exchanging quizzical glances in a battle of wills to see who would fold first. I was looking at Reid, Reid was looking at me, then he looked at Morgan, who looked back at him, then at me. Like I said, a triangle of stares.

“Um ... I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll just be inside.”

I suppose there were worse ways to finally get Morgan off his ass and working.

Reid trailed Morgan with his eyes, while I simply waited for the sound of the door shutting behind me. It took a few more seconds until one of us had the gall to speak.

“Did you mean what you said? About liking me?” This question that I posed went unanswered for what felt like minutes. Looking at Reid, I could tell he wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what.

The soul was willing, but the flesh was weak.

“If you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay. But then why did you really come here, Spencer? To yell at Morgan for possibly making a move on me? Because now’s your chance. Make your move, Spence.” I descended the stairs, stopping to stand on the very last step so I’d hover a mere inch above him. “Make a move.”

Make a move, he did.

Warm, clammy hands that were disproportionately bigger than the rest of his body caught my face so that unbelievably, inconceivably soft lips could make their fierce attack with no resistance. His fingers laced through my hair until his hand found the nape of my neck. He used that as leverage to pull me impossibly closer.

When he was just one step away from sucking my soul out of me, I laid my palm on his chest and pushed him slightly backward. I think I heard him laughing when I did this, probably to hide the shame of letting himself commit so fully to the moment that he forgot just how intense his passion was.

His eyes fluttered open and his lips were still contorted in a pucker. It took him a second, but it finally came.

“I meant what I said,” He confessed ever so nonchalantly as though it were the easiest thing in the world to him, despite being unable to come even close to admitting it just minutes before. “I like you. A lot.”

It was me who laughed then, both from the sheer elation hearing him say that brought me and the distant, exasperated comment that came from within the house.

“Well, finally! It’s about damn time!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 3 years

Text

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 9

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: The Captured

The trees are a blur as the car roars forward. The bewildered and angry faces of Dustin and Steve in the rearview mirror sparks a twinge of guilt. It’s better this way though, they don’t need to be involved. It’s bad enough that Max and Billy are involved. Groaning as the two men in the car pull out behind Billy but in front of Steve. You can feel how startled Steve is and his growing panic as he realizes what’s happening.

Billy glances behind him and growls out, “Friends of yours?”

“Something like that…” you say absentmindedly as you assess the situation behind you.

Realizing that they have far more information than you would like punches you in the gut as town quickly approaches.

You make a decision.

“Pull over.”

The order hangs in the air.

“Are you crazy?!” Max yells, pulling herself forward in the seat, “They’ll catch you!”

“That’s the point,” you say emotionlessly as you regard her.

“No!”

“What is going on here!?” Billy yells angrily beside you.

“They’re going to take her!” Max screams turning to Billy, “You can’t stop! She’s going to give herself up to save us!”

“Fuck that,” Billy says as he revs the engine and makes an abrupt turn to the right. The car behind you all skids but makes the turn at the last minute.

“You need to let me do this,” you say calmly.

“Like Hell I do!” he says rage in his voice.

You huff in annoyance, “They will succeed, if not today, someday.”

“Then it’s not going to be today,” Billy says, taking another abrupt turn trying to throw them off your trail.

“You need to let me do this,” you say matter of factly.

The alleyway you find yourselves in is a dead end. Billy curses and slams his hands on the steering wheel as you get out of the car.

“No!” Max yells as you exit the car, Billy reaching for you a moment too late.

You turn to the men, each of them pointing a gun at you. Steve pulls up behind them a moment later and grabs his bat from the back seat.

“Steve… Don’t…” you murmur tiredly.

“They can’t have you!” Steve yells.

“It’s okay…” you soothe them.

“So you’re coming quietly?” questions one of the men.

“Yes.”

“Good choice,” the other murmurs as he pulls the trigger.

The panic from those around you is palpable as you fall to the floor the dart sticking out of your neck. Steve and Billy make to run towards you before they turn to the men and to rush them.

With the last of your strength your message echoes in their minds, “Don’t forget…”

***

Horror fills them as they watch her fall to the ground. Her eyes roll back into her head and everything goes silent before the rush of rage brings everyone snapping back to reality. Billy pulls back and punches the nearest man as a tranquilizer dart flies towards him. Steve falls next his bat rolling uselessly to the side. Max and Dustin panic and scream as they rush to Steve and Billy.

Max whips around in just enough time to see the two men haul her up and throw her limp body in the back seat of the car. Methodically, as if kidnapping is second nature to these monsters, they move Steve’s car. Dustin is struggling to pull Steve out of the way.

Max cries out in sadness, feeling helpless, as her friend vanished from sight around the bend. She’s left with her unconscious brother and a panicking Dustin.

“What do we do!?” Yells Dustin snapping Max from her shock.

“I don’t know!” She yells back, anger masking her fear.

“We have to do something!” Dustin yells as he paces back and forth. He would periodically rake his fingers through his hair.

“Like what!?” Max screeches back fists flying to her side in rage and frustration.

With no small amount of effort the two preteens drag their older and heavier brother figures into Billy’s car. The two young men are slumped together unceremoniously in the back seat as Max takes the wheel of Billy’s car.

“Are you sure about this?” Dustin asks, hesitation clear in his voice. The memory of the last time Max drove clear in his mind.

“Zoomer. Remember?,” She says pointing at herself in confidence, “Besides, you didn’t die last time,” she says flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“It was dark last time! No one was on the road! It’s the middle of the morning!” Dustin argues crossing his arms.

“Stop being such a baby! It’ll be fine!” She exclaims, frustration seeping into her voice.

With that, she starts up the car and nervously pulls out onto the road. Slowly the preteens make their way to the police station. Not without many near misses and loud honks of other drivers.

The preteens jump from the vehicle and rush into the police station yelling for Hopper as they do so.

“What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you in school?” Hopper asks in bewilderment coming out of his office. The receptionist unable to control the duo before her.

“They took (Name)!” Both Max and Dustin yell in a panic turning towards the confused chief of police.

***

When you wake up you are strapped to a chair with a helmet over your head. Your head is completely silent for the first time in your life, and if you weren’t concerned with figuring a way out of this, you would be enjoying it more. The room is dark save for the single fluorescent light in the very center of the room. There are one-way windows on one side of the room and you can practically feel the eyes of the people on the other side.

A man that you recognize from your childhood enters the room and regards you as a science experiment. He’s wearing a brown suit with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He hasn’t changed much except for the now graying hair on his balding head.

“Three… How have you been? You are quite the sneaky little thing aren’t you?” he asks conversationally as he sits down across from you at the table.

Your answer is an emotionless gaze. You can feel yourself retreating back into your mind as the man in front of you regards you the same way as so many years ago. Like an experiment, as if you are less than him.

“Where have you been hiding all this time, hmmm? With Melanie Snow perhaps?” he quips pulling the cigarette from his lips. The smell burns your nostrils as he releases a puff of smoke.

You feel your chest constrict as he mentions her name.

“I see you’ve made friends with a Steve Harrington? A Dustin Henderson? A Maxine Mayfield? A William Hargrove?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are annoyances,” you answer monotonously.

“Annoyances?” he sounds almost amused.

“Yes… If it wasn’t for them your lackeys would be dead,” you spit the words at the man fire in your eyes as you regard him coolly.

“Dead, you say? You would do that?” he asks leaning forward on his elbows.

“I’m not a child anymore,” your voice is ice.

“No… I suppose not… However, we will be picking up where we left off. Perhaps we will see the results that we want after all this time.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room. You keep your mind calm and clear as you access the situation you are in.

It’s not long before a couple of men in white come into the room and push you from the chair. Their handling is far rougher than it should be as you walk down the hallway. You can hear the cries of a few children, but you keep your face void of any emotion. The room they take you to is the same one from your childhood. You see the number three on the wall and suppress a shudder. You are shoved inside, but before the door is shut you turn to the man behind you and lock eyes with him.

“You know… cheating on your wife when she’s pregnant with your child is disgusting.”

The look on his face as the door closes is priceless.

***

“We have to help her!” yells Dustin as he paces the living room floor of (Name)’s house.

“Can Elle find her?” questions Steve his hand in his hair as he sits on the couch.

“Damnit!” curses Billy as he punches the arm of the chair he’s in, “What good is this?”

Steve and Billy had woken up in a panic upon realizing what happened. They had given their statement to Hopper, who had been very displeased that Max had driven to the police station while the boys were unconscious, but that’s a talk for another day. They went to break the news to Melanie which is how they found themselves setting up camp in the Snow living room.

“Hey just calm down man! We’re going to figure something out!” Clenching his teeth against the pain in his head. The tranquilizer making his head pound with the leftover drugs still coursing through him.

“Well, what can this Elle girl do?” he rounds on him anger radiating off of his person.

“More than you!” yells Dustin.

“Hey! Yelling about everything isn’t going to solve this!” yells Max.

“She’s right…” laments Melanie, “She’s going to have to get herself out of this.”

“But Elle can-” Dustin begins.

“She would be putting herself in danger!” Hopper interrupts, “You don’t know how they found her, they could do the same to Elle.”

“We can’t just do nothing!” yells Billy as he stands up from his seat and takes a step towards Hopper.

“I’m not risking Elle being found. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to do anything.” Hopper holds his stare until Billy backs down.

“Why do you care anyway?” Dustin asks looking over at Billy in confusion.

“Why do I-?” he looks angrily at Dustin, “Because-” He trails off looking unsure of himself for just a moment before his anger covers it up. “None of your business twerp!”

“Will everyone just calm down?” Yells Hopper trying to maintain peace.

“How?! How are we supposed to do that?” Asks Dustin shaking his head in frustration.

“Can someone just do something?!” screeches Melanie before she collapses to the floor crying.

Everyone is silent as they regard her, each of them thinking the same thing...

‘But what can we do?’

***

The next few days you sit quietly in your old room listening. Your powers while not entirely snuffed out are muffled and it isn’t long until the helmet is replaced with another stronger one. You don’t mind as much they think you do as you feign sleep all the while listening.

It’s in sleep that you feel him though. He’s frantic and angry and feels very alone.

You can’t blame yourself for this. You say calmly regarding him.

His eyes widen when he sees you sitting there on his bed.

“You got out?!” he says getting up and coming towards you.

No… I am still there…

“How are you able to…?”

We have a connection Billy… Perhaps it’s our emotions that bind us… We understand hurt better than most…

“You let them take you!” he explodes, “You could have fought them! We could have fought them! Max is… Max is really upset! And damn Harrington! He- Damn it!” He yells angrily picking up a can of hairspray and throwing it against the wall.

It had to happen…

“No, it didn’t! I could have… done something... protected you…” He sits down on the bed defeated, his elbows resting on his knees.

You’re silent for a moment, ‘There are bigger things at play than you understand. They would not stop and I had to think of more than just myself…’

“Bullshit.”

Tell them not to worry…

“Not to worry?!” he yells, “You’ve been captured by some freak show scientists, and no one is supposed to worry?!” he jumps up from the bed and towers over you breathing heavily in his rage.

You regard him silently with the same patience that you always have.

Trust me…

With that, you vanish from his mind. Blinking you are abruptly woken up by the sound of a little metal flap swinging as food is shoved into your cell. You sigh as you glare at the hard bread and porridge that is sitting in the bowl. It’s important that you keep your strength up though it’s imperative to your plan. You pick up the tray and begin to eat.

***

“What do you mean you saw her?” Steve asks, disbelief clear in his voice. He hadn’t been sure what to think when Billy asked to meet him behind the school, but this wasn’t what he expected.

“I told you! I saw her okay?! I don’t get it either!” Billy yells all while trying to keep his voice down. He doesn’t need anyone seeing him and Harrington talking behind the school, too many questions.

“But why did you see her and not me? I’m her friend!” Steve says defensively and maybe a little jealously. Why were you talking to Billy and not him?

“I’m her friend too! You aren’t the only one!”

“Yeah right! What have you ever done for her huh?”

“She-” Billy looks away from Steve. He can’t know…

“She what?” Steve presses, voice going lower in a warning.

“None of your business! Look, I just wanted to know if that makes any sense to you!”

“I mean… she’s special… you know…” Steve says uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I know she is…” Billy says remembering the day you casually told him you were going to help him.

“So what do we do?” Steve asks.

“She said to trust her…” Billy says trailing off in thought.

“If she contacts you again see if she knows where she is. We’re going to get her back,” Steve says with finality. “Truce?” he asks holding his hand out to Billy.

Billy regards it for a moment before he nods, “Truce.”

The two young men clasp hands in a firm handshake, both trying to have a tighter grip as they shake on it.

“What are you trying to do? Break my hand?!” Steve yells.

“You’re such a wuss Harrington!” Billy laughs as he pulls back.

“Wuss?! You face a Demogorgon and tell me who the wuss is!”

“What the fuck is a Demogorgon?”

“You have a lot to learn Hargrove. A lot.”

***

You feel yourself growing stronger every day. And among the quiet in your mind, you’ve noticed something else. You can tap into emotions and you spend the next few days wreaking havoc on the workers of the lab. You cause anger outbursts, crying spells, and lust to run rampant. Papers are thrown to the floor in a rage and balled up in fits of uncertainty. You plant lies in their minds with the simplest of sentences. If you didn’t know any better you would say you’re having fun.

“It seems we’ve underestimated you…” Carl Watt says from his position in front of you. He adjusts the button on his ugly suit jacket as he sits down before you.

You just regard him blankly as silence rings throughout the room.

“You have caused quite a few problems for us. Are you having fun?” he asks patiently as if speaking to his six-year-old daughter who made a mess in the kitchen.

You gaze down at the steel table in front of you, eyes unseeing as you creep in his mind.

“If you don’t cooperate there will be consequences.”

Again you are silent at his threat.

“After all we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friends would we?”

You fight the reaction. The flinch. The twitch. The way your mind screams at the man before you in rage. You give him nothing as you continue to gaze down at the table, the silence stretching long and cold in the sterile room.

“You think you’re fooling anyone? Teenage girls are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Emotions. Boys. Attention. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

You finally raise your head to look squarely in his eyes, your own void of any emotion as you regard him.

“You think you’re fooling anyone?” You mimic, “Men are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Power. Lust. Control. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

Carl looks enraged as his fist flies onto the table. Instead of flinching as he wanted, you merely tilt your head to one side and regard him in boredom.

“And you said teenage girls are emotional. You should really have better control than that,” you say calmly.

“Get her out of here,” he says through clenched teeth.

Walking back to your cell you sense it suddenly. A tickle in your mind. You snap your head to the side and hear it plain as day.

They know.

They found it.

The door. The door. The door!

There is panic in the words and in the mind.

He’s fourteen with dark hair and wild green eyes. You remember him vaguely from when you were here before.

Show!

You collapse as the boy enters your mind and you are thrown into a dream.

Billy is in a car accident. He’s pulled into a void. The screams are too much.

You try to pull away from him. To break away from his hold on you.

Bait.

The creature that fills the sky is terrifying. Black and everywhere. It fills your mind and you know in your heart that this isn’t over. That the Upside Down is beating at the door.

Wait…

You gasp as you are thrown back into your head. The haunted green eyes of the boy down the hall filling your vision.

“Get up!” yells the guard.

You are kicked roughly in the side as you double over again. The other reaches down and grabs your hair dragging you up to your feet.

“Not so tough without your powers are you?” spits the guard.

You blink and reorient yourself before you wipe the blood from your nose. You can feel him at the edge of your conscience.

Bad men… bad…

‘Yes…’ you think to him, ‘Bad men…’

Out?

He pauses for a breath as you are thrown back into your cell.

Out out out???

‘Soon.’

The thought seems to soothe him as his mind quiets and he drifts off to sleep. Vaguely, you wonder if he even knows how to talk. His mind is less fragmented than you originally thought though. You can use that to your advantage.

***

Billy opens his eyes to see you standing before him.

I need you to be ready.

“For what?” he asks instantly alert and sitting up, “Ready for what?”

The moment I expose them…

“What do you need us to do?”

The old base is where I’m being kept. Elle knows where. I will need a distraction in precisely three days’ time. You need to listen very carefully to my instructions. In a glass bottle mix carbon disulfide, phosphorus, and sulfur with a metal lid. This solution is highly flammable if exposed to air.

“What do you want us to do with that?”

I want to burn this place to the ground.

Notes:

I know! Such a long time coming! Concentrating has been difficult even with inspiration for this story! The next chapter will probably be the final chapter for this story, but never fear! I'll begin work on "I'll Tell You No Lies" the sequel to this story set in S3 of Stranger Things! There may be a little short in between this story and that one because I have such affection for this weird triangle between MC, Billy, and Steve. Please drop a comment to tell me your thoughts!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington x reader x billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fandom #love triangle #healing #i'm fixing this #you're welcome

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup @yobroitsjayden

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind.

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit.

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching.

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along.

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one.

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more.

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous?

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it.

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.”

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room.

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?”

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?”

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him.

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts smut #jungkook x reader #gyukult fics

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?

There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.

About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.

Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.

Or at least not today.

He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.

It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.

Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.

But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.

Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.

With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.

“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.

“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”

Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.

“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”

“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”

“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."

“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”

“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”

“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”

It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.

“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”

He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.

Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.

She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.

Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.

With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”

“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”

Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.

“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."

“I’ve been better.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”

“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”

“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”

Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.

“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”

“Ethan…”

“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.

“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”

Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.

It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.

Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.

Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.

“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”

“Where is the deal part?”

“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”

“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”

They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.

But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.

“Ethan? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”

“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”

It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.

“I’m thinking about Francis.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”

“I take it you mean the opera?”

“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”

The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”

It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.

“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”

It was her turn to be speechless.

Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.

Tu pure, oh Principessa

Nella tua fredda stanza

Guardi le stelle

Che tremano d'amore

E di speranza**

She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.

Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.

Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.

She knew.

He will always be here.

And she will always be here, too.

-----

** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".

Translation:

Even you, oh Princess,

In your cold room,

Watch the stars,

That tremble with love

And with hope.

Tag 🔖 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @maurine07 @lovingramsey @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @archxxronrookie @jamespotterthefirst @the-pale-goddess @queencarb @fireycookie @qrkowna @coffeeheartaddict @utterlyinevitable @gryffindordaughterofathena @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @mrs-ramsey @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @mercury84choices @lisha1valecha @lucy-268 @stateofgracious @danijimenezv @alina-yol-ramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x noelle

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 3 years

Text

no body, no crime - allison argent x reader

(gif source)

Summary: When y/n disappears after confronting her husband about his affair, Allison takes matters into her own hands. Based on “no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)” by taylor swift [x]. You can find the mood board for this fic here

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: cursing, infidelity, implied kidnapping, implied murder, murder, alleged murder, alleged/implied death of reader, reader is married to a man with a j name 🤢

a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a hot minute since i posted a new fic & this is why. i’ve been working on this since late december of 2020, so this is the longest i’ve ever spent on a stand-alone work. i’ll include more gory details about the writing process at the end if you’re interested :)

dedicated to: elle (@demxters) for all of her help and ideas! this fic literally wouldn’t have gotten finished without her, send her some love <3

this is also dedicated to caoimhe (@free-pool-trash) for not murdering me after i gave her a preview several weeks ago and then just ✨stopped writing✨

master list

Este's a friend of mine

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

“Hey!” Allison greeted cheerily as she met y/n at their usual table tucked in the corner of their favorite restaurant. y/n returned the brunette’s smile as she stood up to hug her friend, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Allison saw through y/n’s facade and furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked as concern spread across her features.

“I think Justin is having an affair,” y/n admitted. The statement dropped like a bomb between the two women, causing Allison to nearly spew the wine in her mouth all over the table. She coughed a few times and drank some water to clear her throat before she composed herself enough to ask questions.

“What happened? Did you see something?” Allison asked hesitantly. Her mind was still reeling from the mere concept of y/n’s husband cheating on her. Sure, Justin had never been Allison’s favorite guy, but it was normal for girls to think that no guy would ever be good enough for their best friend. Right?

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth"

"That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

y/n explained what had been going on over the past few weeks. Justin had been acting distant, which wasn’t too abnormal, but when he started coming home from work much later than his shifts ended and disappearing at odd hours of the night, y/n got concerned. The day that she had planned to approach him about everything and ask if anything was wrong, she got a call from her bank while driving home from work.

“Hi Mrs. y/l/n, this is Kathy from the bank. I’m calling to inform you that there have been a few large cash withdrawals from your joint account recently under your husband’s name, as well as a pretty expensive purchase yesterday at the jeweler,” the rest of Kathy’s words sounded muffled to y/n. It was nowhere near her birthday, Valentine’s day, or their anniversary, so y/n didn’t know what he could possibly be spending all their money on.

The next incident came a few days later when both y/n and Justin were home. y/n’s husband was in the shower and his phone buzzed with a new text message alert. Typically, y/n was never the type to snoop on her husband’s phone, but she figured she should check in case it was a work message. At least that’s how she justified it in her head. Justin had saved the sender’s number under the contact name “Spam Risk.” It was clever, y/n had to give him credit for that at least. Upon further inspection, y/n quickly realized that those texts weren’t sent from a telemarketer bot.

6:24 p.m. I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby - Spam Risk

6:25 p.m. Don’t keep me waiting too long ;) - Spam Risk

y/n thought the messages were strange, but the picture that followed the messages was definitely what threw y/n for a loop. There, on her husband’s text message thread, was a racy photo of a woman’s body that definitely wasn’t hers. y/n was quite literally stunned to silence as she dropped the phone back down onto the dresser. For the rest of the night, y/n was numb and quiet, not that Justin noticed. Then, like clockwork, he left the house at 11 p.m. with no explanation of where he was going or when he would be back.

By the end of y/n’s story, Allison’s mouth was open so wide she was sure her jaw would hit the table.

“What are you going to do?” Allison whispered, still in shock. y/n grimaced before clearing her throat and speaking her next words with finality.

No, there ain't no doubt

I think I'm gonna call him out

Este wasn't there

Tuesday night at Olive Garden at her job or anywhere

“Hi, there should be a reservation for two under Allison Argent or y/n y/l/n for tonight,” Allison greeted warmly as she approached the hostess stand at their go-to girl’s night restaurant.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the hostess said with a smile as she grabbed two menus and led her towards their usual table. Two menus. That must mean that y/n wasn’t there yet? Allison thought it was strange, y/n almost always was the first of the two to arrive. Allison brushed off the thought as she thanked the hostess and sat down. She had intended to look over the menu, but the strangeness of it all wouldn’t leave her mind. y/n was late. She was never late. Allison pulled out her phone to text her best friend, and it then occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from y/n since last week. Allison had been away on a “work” trip with her dad for the past six days and had just gotten back into town. After 30 minutes of sitting at the table alone, half a dozen unanswered text messages, and even more calls sent straight to voicemail, Allison dropped a few bills on the table and left.

As Allison pulled out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio in a futile attempt to drown out some of her racing thoughts. Between songs the radio host took to the mic to make an announcement.

“Hello Beacon Hills, we now interrupt your regularly scheduled listening with an urgent message from the Sheriff's department. Speaking now is Sheriff Noah Stilinski,” the host trailed off before there was a brief crackle as the audio transitioned to the Sheriff’s press briefing. Allison turned up the volume as the Sheriff’s voice carried across the radio.

“Thank you all for attending and tuning in. It is with great displeasure and a heavy heart that I inform you all that y/n y/l/n has been reported missing. Shortly after 8 a.m. this morning, we were informed by her husband that she didn’t show up for work yesterday morning and also didn’t come home last night,” Sheriff Stilinski continued speaking but it all began to sound like white noise to Allison. It took everything she had in her to focus on not veering off the road so that she could head to the Sheriff’s station and speak to Stilinski in person.

Conveniently, her route took her right past y/n and Justin’s house. Allison didn’t know what to expect as she sped by their house, but the fact that Justin’s normally filthy truck had been cleaned and waxed definitely caught her eye. The truck and driveway were soon out of sight due to the speed she was driving at, but at first glance, it looked as though his tires and grill had been replaced.

He reports his missing wife

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

About a week had passed since y/n had been reported missing. Allison wasn’t sure how many search parties had been held, but they all resulted in the same thing: nothing. There wasn’t a single trace of her best friend, in fact, everything in Beacon Hills looked completely unchanged and normal. Allison’s focus and appetite seemed to have left with her other half, try as she might to desperately hold onto them. Her marksmanship had even been affected, something that hadn’t happened since high school.

Allison started driving around town during her free time. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, she mostly did it to try to clear her mind, though most times she was unsuccessful. She’d been mindlessly taking right and left turns and before she realized where she was, she passed y/n’s house.

Allison hadn’t planned to slow down as she passed the house, it was a mindless act if anything. Seeing a moving truck backed up to the house while Justin and some unfamiliar blonde woman were unloading boxes ensured that her decision to park her car where it couldn’t be seen and spy on the pair wasn’t mindless. Despite her gut telling her not to, Allison decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he needed a roommate now since y/n couldn’t pay her share of the rent? Allison tried her best to keep all of her judgments and suspicions at bay as she watched the otherwise uneventful event unfold while biting her fingernails.

A few boxes later, Justin pulled the blonde in by her waist and kissed her with a fervor that would make most people blush. Allison’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she sat there in shock with her mouth wide open. It took a while, mostly because the kiss lasted for an obnoxious amount of time, but Allison finally regained control of her body. It was like her brain had to go through a hard reset before she was able to face the reality of the situation.

y/n was right. Justin was cheating on her. Not only that, but Justin had cheated on y/n, spent less than a week grieving her disappearance, then allowed this to happen.

And his mistress moved in

Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

Allison found out that Justin Smith’s mistress’s name was Rebecca Baker. She was a few years younger than y/n and she worked at the same company as Justin. It didn’t take long for Allison to hack into both of their iCloud accounts. A few hours of scrolling later she was really regretting her decision, especially when she got to Justin’s messages to Rebecca about y/n.

2:47 a.m. What about your wife? - Spam Risk

2:47 a.m. What about her? - Justin

2:48 a.m. Are you going to leave her or kick her out or something? - Spam Risk

2:48 a.m. It’s been taken care of. - Justin

2:48 a.m. Taken care of? Justin, what does that mean? - Spam Risk

2:49 a.m. Justin??? - Spam Risk

Each new message ensured that bits of Allison’s fingernails had been gnawed off while her left hand fidgeted anxiously in front of her mouth. Allison decided that those messages were probably the most incriminating thing she’d find digitally, but the time and date stamps caught her eye. The texts were sent early Monday morning, the day that y/n allegedly left home and then didn’t show up for work or return home.

A chill spread from deep within Allison’s bones up to the surface of her skin, making goosebumps appear. Allison didn’t know what exactly, but she knew something terrible had happened to y/n and Justin had something to do with it. She shut her laptop a little harder than necessary as a resolved look spread across her face.

No, there ain't no doubt

Somebody's gotta catch him out

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Allison regularly accessed her personal armory, whether it was to prepare for a job or pack for a trip to the shooting range, but it had been a while since a powerful and unforgiving feeling hung over her shoulders. Allison carefully ran her fingers over her custom silver arrowheads as she considered her options. Her father’s words from one of her adolescent archery lessons rung in her head.

“The type of bow and arrows you use doesn’t matter. As long as you use them right, you’ll be able to make any shot. Don’t get hung up on the technicalities.”

Not too long after, her bag was stocked with her essentials: a bow, her trusted black leather archery glove, as well as a handful of arrows, though these ones lacked the silver heads she typically reserved for more exotic expeditions.

The rare dark clouds in the California sky at sunset were reflected in Allison’s cold eyes. The drive to her target’s house was familiar, the turns she made were almost instinctual. Normally these roads reminded her of her coffee dates with y/n and nights they spent talking for hours until sunlight crept through the windows. Now, her mind was blank and her heart was devoid of all emotion.

Even though Allison had disabled her car’s GPS earlier, she parked her car about a mile away from his house. When she was done, there wouldn’t be any evidence that could be traced back to her. She memorized his schedule; at 5:00 p.m. his shift ended and recently he’d been getting home by 5:20. His girlfriend got home sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, but she would leave for her pilates class around 6:30 and wouldn’t get home until 7:45. Allison had just over an hour window to get the job done, but it wouldn’t take that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d be off the property within a few minutes of taking the shot.

When she arrived her target had just come home from work and was alone in the house. She waited patiently, hidden by the trees that the property backed up to. She watched as he moved around through the open curtains and then as his girlfriend entered the house and kissed him with a passion that made Allison’s stomach churn. She watched as they ate dinner together, as her target’s girlfriend got ready for her gym class, and watched as she got in her car and drove away. When Allison checked her watch it was only 6:25 p.m., she had far more time than she needed.

The plan was simple, really. Under the cover of darkness, she’d flip the breakers, effectively cutting the power. When her target came out to investigate, she’d let him fumble around in the darkness for a while. He’d always been a paranoid individual, so it wouldn’t take much to get him on edge. A rustle in the bushes here, a small snapped tree branch there, and then something that would get his attention. Allison wanted his eyes to be on her when she took the shot.

Allison’s target was watching TV so he knew immediately when the power went out, plus the fact that the once illuminated house was suddenly bathed in darkness. The high-pitched yelp that escaped his throat almost made Allison laugh. She had to keep quiet though, at least for now. As expected, the dopey man scurried around to the side of the house where the breakers were located in no time. The batteries in the flashlight he held were on their last leg, that much was evident in the way the light beam flickered every few seconds.

Just as he opened the door to the circuit breaker panel, Allison moved. A rustle here. The sound practically echoed in the silence of the night, causing the man to whip around and shine his flashlight directly at the source of the noise. There was nothing there. It’s just the wind, he reasoned before getting back to work. After a few switches had been flipped - none of them for the outdoor lights - he heard another noise. This one was much louder than the last, a small snapped tree branch there. Again, the flashlight’s flickering light beam uncovered nothing, but it was enough to make all of the hairs on the back of Allison’s target’s neck stand up straight. He hastily flipped the rest of the breakers and the outdoor lights finally came on.

When yellow light from the backyard fixtures flooded the area, both Allison and her target were revealed. Allison stood a considerable distance away from the man, but she was close enough to see the blood drain from his face and his Adam's apple bob. When his eyes darted to the bow hung by her side, realization dawned on his face. He began to turn away with the intention of running, but Allison’s voice held him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” she ordered quietly without any aggression behind her tone. Her face wasn’t threatening, she just looked calm and focused. Allison’s smooth features and peaceful expression was what scared the man the most.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” he stammered out, his arms and legs beginning to tremble.

“Shh,” Allison chastised as she raised her bow, loading it with an arrow. Her fingers moved with precision, her muscles knew this routine well.

“Please don’t- no, you can’t, you can’t do this!” the man pleaded. He wasn’t above begging on his knees, but Allison wasn’t about to give him the chance. Her gaze was sharply focused on her target, the view of her tightly grasped bow in her peripheral vision.

“Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

When Allison’s fingers let go of the bowstring the arrow flew smoothly through the air. The only sounds heard were the arrowhead piercing skin and the man wordlessly falling to the ground. The arrow went straight through his heart. Maybe Allison’s shot landed right where she intended. Maybe there was a metaphor in there. Allison checked her wristwatch, the numbers 6:45 shining back at her. An entire hour to spare.

Time to take out the trash.

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

The job didn’t take long at all and it was definitely one of Allison’s least challenging ones, but it still felt nice to take a hot shower and sit in front of her fireplace with a cup of tea. The fire served a dual purpose; the crackles of the burning wood soothed her like a lullaby while the flames licked around and destroyed her bloody clothes from earlier. All of her equipment had been cleaned and put away, positioned exactly as it had been before. Everything was the same, nothing changed or out of place. There was just one less heartbeat in the world that night.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me

On the second day of the trial, Rebecca Baker’s lawyers were throwing whatever they could against the wall to see if something would stick. That morning they began to argue that Allison Argent might’ve abducted and murdered Justin Smith in retaliation for y/n’s disappearance. It was all speculation at best, but the theory unfortunately made sense to the jury. Before things could get too far, the prosecution called its first witness of the day to the stand.

“Mrs. Martin, where were you on the night of Mr. Smith’s suspected disappearance?” the prosecution lawyer questioned calmly.

“I was with Allison at my house. We were having a girls night in, you can check my security cameras,” Lydia answered confidently. Lydia still had a pocketful of favors from her MIT days, so when the jurors were shown the clips from Lydia’s home security cameras, they saw exactly what they would’ve expected based on Lydia’s testimony.

Truth be told, Lydia didn’t know anything about what happened that night; including Allison’s whereabouts and any details related to Justin’s alleged demise. All she knew was that Allison called and asked for a simple favor - an alibi for just a few hours. Lydia didn’t ask questions and Allison didn’t give answers.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

On the third day of the trial, Rebecca Baker took the stand. Her lawyers tried to help her as best they could, but the prosecution was ruthless. All of the evidence was circumstantial at best - all parties, including the judge and jurors, knew that - but it was enough to make everyone reconsider the spotless image the defense had tried to create for Ms. Baker.

“Ms. Baker, is it true that you knowingly engaged in a romantic relationship while Justin Smith was married to and living with his wife?” another one of the prosecution’s attorneys began.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied meekly. Allison internally scoffed from her seat in the gallery. She found irony in the fact that Rebecca didn’t find any humility or shame in sleeping with another woman’s husband until she was under oath.

“Is it also true that within approximately a week of Mrs. y/l/n’s disappearance, you moved into Mr. Smith and Mrs. y/l/n’s house?”

“That is correct,” Rebecca said as she began to wring her hands together anxiously. The judge tapped his wrist watch and shot a stern look towards the prosecutor. The man nodded in response and continued to his final points.

“I’ll wrap up my questions for you, Ms. Baker. Can you confirm that shortly after moving in with Mr. Smith, multiple legal and financial arrangements and adjustments were made? And these new arrangements make you the sole beneficiary of Mr. Smith’s life issuance policy, assets, and investments?”

By the end of the prosecution’s final question, every jury member and spectator sat up straighter and waited to hear Rebecca’s response with bated breath. The blonde ball of nerves sighed defeatedly before turning to face the attorney directly as she answered his question.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“No further questions, your honor.” As the lead prosecutor returned to the plaintiff’s table, Rebecca’s attorney stood up to address the judge.

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a brief recess,” the defense attorney nearly pleaded. Though his poker face was much better than his client’s, it was clear that he was getting nervous.

“We’ll reconvene in 15 minutes,” the judge ordered with a stern glare cast towards Rebecca.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it

It soon became clear to Rebecca that the recess her legal team requested was nothing more than a “kiss your dignity goodbye” meeting. If she hadn’t been queasy before the recess was called, she definitely was upon re-entering the courtroom.

The rest of the trial seemed to move in slow motion for Rebecca. A few more witnesses were called to the stand, more lackluster evidence was presented, both sides made their closing arguments, and the jury left to discuss the verdict. After what felt like an eternity, the jury returned with an official decision.

Silence settled over the room as a single juror stood to address the court.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 1 of murder in the first degree based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 2 of kidnapping based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant guilty on count 3 of insurance fraud based on…”

The rest of the jurors’ statement sounded like white noise to Rebecca. She was just barely coherent enough to hear the judge deliver her punishment a few minutes later. $50,000 fine and 200 hours of community service.

Allison stuck around to the bitter end of the trial to hear the verdict in person. In all honesty, Allison didn’t want Rebecca to go to jail. It wouldn’t be right for her to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit, but Allison did find satisfaction in the fact that Rebecca would soon be picking up garbage in a fluorescent orange vest.

After the majority of the spectators had vacated the courtroom gallery, Allison leisurely gathered her things. Justice had been served to Justin, she personally made sure of that, and now justice had been served to Rebecca. The blonde and brunette women briefly locked eye contact as Allison made her way towards the exit.

“You did this,” Rebecca whispered to Allison. Suddenly, it was like a flip switched within her. One moment she was numb, yet calm and collected, and the next moment she was screaming (literal) bloody murder and had to be held back by her lawyers.

“YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED JUSTIN, YOU BITCH!” Rebecca cried, though her words fell on deaf ears. Allison exited the courtroom with her head held high as the courtroom deputy and defense lawyers did their best to calm the hysterical woman.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

A week later the court case was still on Allison’s mind but the emotional scars had begun to scab. Healing was never a straight or smooth path, Allison had learned that the hard way over the years, but this was a start.

y/n’s landlord had been generous enough to allow Allison to gather y/n’s things before he cleaned out the house for new renters. As Allison walked through the home she once considered to be an extension of her own, she felt her throat dry out and tighten up. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping salty tears off of the picture frames she’d carefully picked up. Each photo unlocked a new memory, some even elicited a chuckle out of Allison amidst her tears.

A photo from y/n’s wedding day stood out among all the rest as Allison’s eyes jumped from frame to frame. It was a candid shot Lydia had taken while they were in y/n’s dressing room before the ceremony. y/n looked as beautiful as ever in her flowy white gown and Allison’s mulberry maid of honor dress complemented it well. As Allison put the final touches on y/n’s hair and makeup, y/n fastened the clasp of a custom necklace behind Allison’s neck. On a thin, medium-length chain hung an arrowhead from the first time Allison had ever tried to teach y/n how to shoot a bow and arrow. y/n failed miserably, but it was a cherished memory for both girls. Since that day, Allison had only taken the necklace off a handful of times.

Allison smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped a fresh tear off of the decorative frame before pulling her necklace out from underneath her shirt. She pressed a gentle kiss to the cool silver arrowhead and then to the photo frame, right above y/n’s styled hair.

A feeling that Allison couldn’t quite explain flowed through her body just then; it was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater or seeing the gentle rays of the sun for the first time after a hurricane, it felt like freedom. Allison felt almost as if y/n was right there next to her, with her head resting on Allison's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the brunette’s torso. In that moment, Allison somehow wordlessly knew with every fiber in her being that y/n was finally at peace.

No, no body, no crime

I wasn't letting up until the day he died

a/n: AHHHH DID YOU LIKE IT? it was kind of a wild ride from start to finish and i definitely shed a few tears while i was writing it. please lmk what you think!

okay, now onto the writing process from hell: i started drafting ideas for the fic on dec. 21 or 22 of 2020, after i put together a mood board. i had written more than half of the fic when i decided i hated it and scrapped the whole thing on xmas eve (~3000 words 🤡). after that i was kinda in a rut and couldn’t decide how i wanted to end the fic so i ended up writing and deleting ~2500 words over the past month and a half. @demxters is an absolute GODDESS and helped me come up with the ending, so i am eternally grateful to her for that. if any of this seems a lil strange it’s probably because i finished writing it at 4:45 a.m. after working on it for 3ish hours straight. have a great day lovelies!

join my tag list!

@dashkana @rogershoe @basicbibitxh @sweetfairyprincess17 @samkysnks @ellxpsismm @pure-ghost @lilyspells @ineedyourskulls @loveheathens @plq-cid @linkpk88 @grace-wade-08 @brithedemonspawn @fanfichoex @wistful-chaos @silveralma @malfoysadore @miss-i-ship-it @sonnydoesrandomshit

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Red Handed (S.R.)

Summary: Reader catches Spencer in the act, and then joins in. Request: You catch Spencer jerking off in your shared room cause he thought the reader would be gone a bit longer. She catches him and smut happens. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Caught in the act (masturbating), oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, alcohol, coworker relationship Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

The one thing you learn very quickly while working as a profiler at the BAU is that there are very few ways to relax in a cheap hotel room. Honestly, the longer I work here, the less I understand why people choose to stay at places like this on vacation.

Even when the case was over and I sat in this bleached out room with clipart like pictures, I couldn’t find a way to relax. JJ and Elle had tried to show me their methods, hoping that, in the very least, it might trigger some inspiration for me.

Half a bottle of wine later, I found nothing except the realization that I would probably have a headache in the morning. After about 30 minutes of listening to the two girls talk about dating, I decided to finally make my exit for the night. It wasn’t that I was bored by the conversation (Elle had some very interesting stories), but it just reminded me way too much about just how painfully single I was.

… Not that going back to my room would help with that. Not long after I joined, I’d been inadvertently volunteered to room with Spencer. Basically, when we were the only two left, I didn’t complain about it. The truth was, I enjoyed being in his room. Interestingly enough, the genius was pretty quiet at night. If I didn’t talk to him, he spent most of the night quietly reading and occasionally sneaking glances that I’d pretend I didn’t see.

But that was the problem with rooming with Spencer or spending any time with him at all, really. The kid was so fucking adorable. Every time I looked over and saw those big, soft brown eyes staring at me filled with a curious reverence, all I could picture is how cute he would look with my legs wrapped around his head.

He was a sweet boy. It wouldn’t be right for me to corrupt him like that. So, I left him alone and let him ogle me from afar in peace. As far as I knew, he wasn’t even interested in sex, let alone the type of… activities… that my fantasies involved.

With my half full bottle of wine, I quietly unlocked the door to our shared room, recognizing that Spencer had mentioned he was trying to go to bed early tonight. It was part of why I’d left to hang out with JJ in the first place. The room was almost entirely dark, so I’d stopped for a moment to let my eyes adjust to this new environment.

I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t entirely sober either. So when I finally started to move forward, I was probably acting way more cautious than I’d needed to. He wasn’t a fucking bat; he wouldn’t be able to hear my breathing.

Breathing.

That’s what I heard when I inched further down the small corridor by the door. I passed the bathroom, almost tempted to turn on the light just so I could see what was happening. But the quick, irregular beating of my heart was my intuition telling me to stay very still.

I peeked around the corner as silently as I could, and some deep part of my subconscious was trying to prepare me for what I knew I would find. But I honestly don’t think I would ever be prepared for it.

The curtains hadn’t been drawn completely shut; the pale lights of the small town filtering through the darkness and finding the bed where Spencer lay. It looked like something fit for a fucking painting.

But it wasn’t just the romantic lighting that took my breath away. No, it was the unmistakable sounds flowing from the boy wonder. The heavy breaths belonged to him, and from my precarious position I could see that his head was thrown back and his eyes were unable to stay open. There was a quick movement under the covers, and the simple sound of sheets rustling and quiet moans filled the air.

I hadn’t taken a breath in what felt like an hour, but my eyes wouldn’t leave him. The image of him pleasuring himself was far more intoxicating than the wine. Part of me felt terrible for watching him do something so intimate, but the rest of me was just burning with an ungodly amount of lust.

Still, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand here forever - eventually he would figure it out. Being a mature adult, I decided that it would probably be best for me to just sneak back out of the room, no matter how much I did not want to do that.

Slowly, my feet began to step backwards. It was a good, simple plan. It should have been easy to leave the same way I came, but fate clearly had other plans. Because before I got too far, Spencer’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“(Y/n)…”

What happened next was a goddamn disaster. I would like to blame the alcohol for my stupid ass decisions, but in my heart I knew I would have had the same reaction even if I were stone-cold sober. Because Spencer Reid moaning my name while touching himself in the room that we shared was too overwhelming a sound.

With an audible gasp, I dropped the wine bottle I’d been holding.

It clattered onto the ground, alerting Spencer of my presence in the most chaotic possible manner. Unable to think of literally anything else to do, I practically leaped into the bathroom beside me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That was the only thing I could even begin to think, my brain looping the last five seconds over and over in my head.

“(Y/n)?” Spencer called out (again), his voice in an entirely different register.

“Hey Spencer!” I yelled back with an equally uncomfortable voice, “I’m going to take a shower really quick! Sorry to bother you!”

Smooth.

If he suspected I’d seen him, he did the right thing and said literally nothing about it. From my new position in the bathroom, the silence was somehow even more uncomfortable than what had just happened.

After a moment of attempting to reboot my broken psyche, I realized that I should actually shower if I was going to figure out how to keep up this charade of acting like I hadn’t just caught my adorably innocent coworker jacking off to the thought of me. I mean, that had to be what was happening, right? There was no way I’d misheard my own fucking name in my favorite boy's voice.

Taking advantage of the excuse to take a ridiculously cold shower, I pondered my options for the rest of the night as carefully as I could. There were a few different ways to handle this. I could act like nothing had happened, and continue to wonder what fascinating fantasies the doctor had drummed up in that brilliant mind. Or, I could confront him.

The second option, while riskier, also had the potential for some of the most delicious payoff. It also had the direst consequences. Because there were only two ways that I could realistically see myself letting that option end: Either I would finally figure out just how cute he looked with his face buried between my legs, or we could literally never interact as normal coworkers ever again. And honestly, that second one might happen no matter what.

Unfortunately, the best person to ask about the statistics of the outcomes of coworkers sleeping together was precisely the person I couldn’t ask about this right now.

I tried to get a handle on my thoughts, but the longer they reverted back to Spencer, the more complex the fantasies got each time. Now when I heard him moan my name, I could also feel it being whispered against my neck. I could picture the way that devilish little tongue he liked to sweep over his lips would feel in more interesting places.

Without even noticing, my hand had made its way between my legs, lightly tracing the areas I wanted to feel him touch. But my hands weren’t enough, and it was honestly bullshit to think that I would have to get myself off for something that he had started!

I held onto that frustration, allowing it to feed into my egotistical desire to go lay claim to the apparently not-so-innocent boy that I’d just caught red handed. Because if he wanted to use me to get off, then the least he could do was repay the fucking favor.

Barely drying myself off, I tried to look as presentable as possible without also losing my nerve. I wrapped myself in the skimpy hotel towel, tucking the free corner into the top and trying to address damp hair one more time. Once I walked out of the bathroom, I would be crossing the point of no return. But truthfully, we’d already crossed that point the second that damn wine bottle hit the ground.

So, I thought, fuck it!

Upon opening the door, I noticed that the room was significantly lighter than it had been when I got here. It was obvious that Spencer had been unable to sleep after that massive hit of adrenaline - which meant that he was either planning on ignoring me once I came out of the shower, or he had planned to talk to me.

Spencer was a planner. Much like how he played chess, he liked to know all of the potential futures. With everything. If you ever watched him in the silence, you would see the gears turning in his mind, running through every possible divergence of whatever action he was focused on.

But I can confidently say that, based on the look of shock on his face, Spencer had never expected this to happen.

“Hey—“ he started, looking up at me before his eyes widened. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his voice disappeared mid-sentence. With his mouth hung open I could see how his tongue rolled in on itself before he bit down on it, trying to hide the obvious arousal that had immediately developed at the sight of me barely covered in the crisp white hotel towel.

I didn’t speak. I started by bending over to pick up the still tightly fastened wine bottle, setting it down on the desk beside me before I continued on my path towards his bed. When our eyes locked, all I felt was the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

“W-What are you doing?”

He’d waited until I was right beside him to ask the question. His hand closest to me gripped the covers of the bed in the hopes to distract me from the way his legs shifted to try and hide further evidence of his undoubtedly lewd thoughts.

My fingers found their way to the back of that same hand he’d used moments earlier, drifting softly against the skin. He was practically shaking underneath me when I decided to give him some reprieve from his silent suffering.

“I heard you.”

I spoke softly, but he responded even quieter.

“What?”

“I heard you say my name.”

His hand shifted under my touch, lightly pulling away, but not enough to separate us entirely.

“I didn’t—“ he started to deny it, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. There wasn’t enough time in the night for him to pretend like it hadn’t happened.

“Get up,” I ordered simply, bringing both hands up to cross over my chest.

“Why?”

It wasn’t a bad question. There were many reasons I might have demanded he get up. For example, I might have wanted him to get up to kick him out of the room, or in the very least humiliate him by forcing him to show me the tent that had pitched in his pants since the second I walked out of the bathroom.

“Get out of the bed,” I repeated.

“I don’t…” The weak response wasn’t even well thought out. I gave him another second to come up with words to end the sentence, but he just kept tumbling over his tongue.

“Now.”

This time, Spencer complied almost immediately. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed towards me, he stopped before our bodies could come too close together. I wondered if he could feel the heat of my body against him from this distance. Regardless, if he didn’t before, he would soon. When he sat up it didn’t last long. Swiftly and with the full force of physical training that was required for most of us, present company excluded, I grabbed his arm and pulled him from the bed.

He stumbled onto the ground, which happened to be exactly where I wanted him. From the way he didn’t even try to get up from his knees, I think he knew it, too.

I stared down at him from my new position with a cold glare that was harder to keep up than I thought it would be. Honestly, all I wanted to do was smile at just how precious he was. He’d taken so quickly to his role.

But he didn’t deserve my smiles or praise yet; he had been a naughty, selfish boy.

“Apologize to me.”

Spencer kept looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes, like he could beg me to take mercy on him so soon. When he didn’t get his way, he managed to squeak out the most pathetic apology I’d ever heard.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t believe him.

“Why are you sorry, Spencer?”

The only thing worse than no apology at all was an apology that wasn’t genuine. He didn’t even know what he was sorry for, just that I wanted him to say it. And as flattering as it was that he was eager to please me, I also wanted the apology I deserved.

“I-I don’t know.”

At least he admitted his own incompetence when it came to social situations. Especially such… delicate ones. But I believed in his ability to be a fast learner.

“Sure you do. You’re a genius, right? You can figure it out,” I cooed, using one hand to run through his hair. I’d always wanted to touch it, but never had an excuse. Until now. It was even softer than I’d imagined.

I couldn’t wait to see just how much I could make him do with a good handle on that hair. But for now, I just enjoyed the way it slipped through my fingers.

When he still didn’t answer my question, I decided to give him another chance.

“Why are you sorry, Spencer?”

His head followed my hand, but his eyes fell to the ground at my feet. I could hear the shift in his breathing and see the way his hands began to clench as he tried to think of how to get out of this mess.

“Now you’ve got nothing to say, huh?” I teased, deciding that I already missed the way it felt for him to look at me.

With all the care in the world, I gently lifted his chin with the tips of my fingers, guiding his attention back to me just in time for me to start to pull at the edge of the towel that held it in place.

“Would it help if I took this off?”

Before the plush fabric could even hit the ground, I heard a small whimper escape Spencer’s lips. He clenched his eyes shut in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at me. While I knew he was trying to protect himself - to prevent the obvious manifestation of his desire in his eyes - I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Am I not pretty enough to look at?”

“N-No—“ he stammered, his eyes opening and the vision before him stealing the words from his mouth.

“No, I’m not pretty?” I asked with an angry pout, my other hand rising to tangle in his hair.

“No! I-I—“ Despite the struggle, he managed to keep his eyes open and on me long enough to formulate one coherent thought: “You’re… beautiful.”

The words were music to my ears, but I couldn’t let myself enjoy them just yet. Because if he really thought I was so beautiful, then it was downright unacceptable that he would let his eyes wander away from me as often as they were. The restlessness was not welcome when he was with me.

Grabbing fistfuls of his beautiful chestnut locks, I pulled on them hard enough to elicit a surprised yelp. He scrambled to find the ground beneath him, to stop himself from tumbling forward or grabbing onto my naked body for balance.

“Then look at me,” I ordered forcefully, my teeth clenched together as I held his head just high enough that he still had to look up to meet my eyes.

Slowly, he did, his eyes sharing that same quiet adoration he always tried to hide. I could practically hear him begging me to show mercy for the way his tongue tied itself into knots. I didn’t listen.

“Apologize to me,” I insisted, tugging his hair so that he would expose more of his throat to me. He struggled to keep his eyes on mine, but he managed to do so.

“I’m so sorry.”

The pathetic crackling was more genuine than his previous apology, probably only because he knew exactly what to apologize for this time.

I released his hair, watching him drop back to his knees while trying not to look away from me for a second. Pride swelled in my chest at how easily he’d fallen into this role. It wasn’t surprising, but it was nice, nonetheless. With two gentle hands, I gingerly fixed his hair before withdrawing from him completely.

“Take off your shirt and stand up.”

Now it seemed when I gave an order, he was already halfway there by the time the words left my tongue. Quick to stand, he took a little bit longer to take off his shirt. I knew he was self conscious about his looks. It was hard not to be when his best friend was Derek Morgan. But I loved the sharp angles of his body that were contrasted with the softness of his features. I liked to run my fingers down his skin and see the way his muscles tensed at my touch.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Spencer,” I whispered as I did exactly that, my nails dragging over pale skin. Goosebumps rippling from my touch. “My pretty boy.”

He released his breath slowly, an almost imperceptible smile twitching at the corners of his lips from the praise. He was having a hard time looking at me now, but I didn’t mind. Instead, I just walked behind him, reaching my arms around and slipping them into the waistband of his pants. That time, his breath hitched in his throat, his entire body jerking as my hands didn’t bother waiting around any longer. I wanted to have him as naked as I was. I wanted to have all of him, as soon as I could.

I pulled down the pants just enough that gravity removed them the rest of the way. Running my hands over his hip bones, I hummed at the way he audibly gasped when I drew near his arousal.

“I love how sensitive you are to my touch,” I whispered into his ear, noticing how his head turned towards the feel of my breath against him.

It didn’t last long, though. After a brief moment of admiring his figure, I left him in his place just long enough that I could grab the wine bottle I’d abandoned on the desk earlier. I grabbed one of the shitty plastic wine glasses the girls had bought and poured myself another half serving.

The truth was, I was probably just as nervous as Spencer. Maybe. I’m pretty sure I could hear the poor thing’s heart beating from across the room. When I looked back, I noticed that he’d reverted to his earlier position, of his head bent back and his hands clenching the air.

I wasn’t entirely sure if he was trying not to touch himself or if he was just trying to will some confidence into himself. But he wouldn’t need confidence with me; I’d give it to him.

“Get back on your knees.”

The words broke his concentration, and he quickly complied. His eyes trailed after me as I passed, his heavy breath loud enough that I was surprised I didn’t feel it on my legs when I sat down in front of him.

He was staring cautiously at the way I began to unfold my legs. I curled one finger to beckon him closer. Making his way over to me, he was still careful not to touch me. He was waiting for permission, which I then gave by smoothing one hand over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before giving a gentle pat.

No words were necessary, and Spencer bent forward to rest his cheek against my leg. His eyelids fluttered shut, his breath now feeling cool against my heated skin. Just that sensation alone was already filling me with a deep need for the man currently nuzzling my thigh.

Running my hand through his hair again, I drank half the contents of my glass to hopefully distract myself from how badly I wanted to just order him to fuck me already. But then he started to move against the skin, desperate, tiny mewls stumbling from his lips.

“Good boy,” I whispered, guiding him closer to my heat by his hair, “Since you can’t figure out how to properly say you’re sorry, I’ll let you apologize another way.”

His eyes opened at that, and I felt him swallow against my leg. His breathing was so thready I was a little concerned he might actually pass out.

“Go on. Be a good boy,” I reassured him with a sly smile, “I’ve seen that tongue. I know you’ll make me feel good.”

It took surprisingly very little encouragement to convince Spencer to do what I wanted him to do. Before I’d even finished talking, he had pressed his face against me and slipped his tongue between my folds.

“Fuck!” I immediately cursed, gripping my glass tighter when he began making long strokes up and down my entrance. After the briefest introduction, his methods went from shy and hesitant to full on ravenous.

Keeping his hands between his legs, he buried himself against me so closely I wasn’t sure how he would manage to breathe. Then again, he didn’t seem to care, breathing in only the sounds of pleasure he could force out of me with his mouth.

“Shit, Spencer,” I gasped, causing him to stop his ministrations and look up at my heaving chest.

It was the last thing I wanted him to do, so I quickly ran my hand through his hair and pulled him back against me.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, dropping my head back when he immediately returned to slow lapping motions, “God, I love that mouth of yours.”

The praise had its intended effect, with Spencer muffling a small moan against me. The gentle vibrations earned him a large smile while I quickly downed the rest of my drink, realizing that I wouldn’t have nearly as much downtime as I’d originally thought.

This either wasn’t his first rodeo, or he was a much quicker learner than I’d thought. Then again, he had probably memorized a million anatomy books. Maybe that researcher mentality was worth something to me, after all. But it all still wasn’t enough, and I wanted to see just how much more he could give.

“Touch me, Spencer,” I ordered, my voice husky and filled with urgency, “Use that hand you used on yourself.”

Once again, he moaned against me between thick lapping motions, his tongue exploring as deep inside of me as he could before he would replace it with his finger. He started with just one, and immediately I was surprised by just how much more stimulating it was.

I’d fantasized before about those large hands, but now that he was struggling to fit another finger in, I glanced down at his legs and wondered how the fuck I was supposed to take all of him.

But Spencer wasn’t worried about that, or anything else, at all. Once he did get the second finger in, he began to pump them into me at an exponentially increasing rate. The empty glass tumbled from my hand onto the floor beside him as I grabbed his hair with both hands.

I wanted to share my thoughts, to tell him that he was amazing and how close I was to finishing on those ever-gesticulating fingers, but I couldn’t. My voice was replaced with loud, throaty moans and garbled attempts at his name.

Recognizing that my end was fast approaching, Spencer closed his lips around the small nub at my crest, his tongue beginning to make small, feverish circles around it. My nails were digging into his scalp, my legs closing tightly around him while I bucked helplessly against him.

If he was at all struggling, he didn’t make it obvious. In fact, he seemed extremely pleased with his current situation, his moans heavier and louder. Once they had calmed down, he applied a soft suckling pressure that tore me from reality, tossing me headfirst into an ocean of pure euphoria.

The inaudible scream contorted my face, and I let my body curl around him, riding the waves of pleasure he granted with a roll of his tongue.

“Spencer,” I purred breathlessly when I finally started to come back to the Earth.

As the tension against him relented, he barely stopped to take a breath before immediately continuing what he was doing. Normally, if I had all the time in the world, I would have let him continue to lap up the evidence of my desire. But right now I was still exhausted, even more so because of my orgasm, and I wanted to make sure we still had time for me to take him on a proper ride.

Tearing him away from me was harder than I expected. He resisted my efforts until I’d all but pried him off me, and even then his fingers and tongue stayed on course until they couldn’t reach anymore. I looked down at him, craning his head back and licking the area around his lips to try and taste me on his skin.

“You’re so fucking adorable.”

I was almost pained by the sight, wishing that I could borrow his memory just to remember this moment forever. I traced the outline of his jaw with both hands, coming down to wipe his face.

He smiled, and it was beautiful to see. I realized it was the first time he’d given me a full on grin the whole night, and I was melting.

“Come lie down,” I whispered when I finished cleaning his face, patting next to me on the bed.

In a fashion fit for Spencer, he climbed into the bed and immediately attempted to curl up against my side. His hands were still kept close to his chest, his body wrapping around me while he tried to calm his still erratic heart.

“Hmm. Why am I not surprised you’re a little cuddle bug?” I teased, my hand drawing lazy patterns over his side. He hummed happily back, pliable under my hands that eventually coaxed him onto his back.

“Are you having fun, pretty boy?”

The question was genuine, but it seemed almost unnecessary after it’d been said. He was staring up at me with a dopey, lovesick smile, his hand trying to grab mine when I dragged my palm over his chest. When he remembered that I was waiting for an answer, he gave a little nod.

“Use your words,” I reminded him, letting him take my hand and squeeze it tightly.

“Yes,” he crackled, his voice weary from what he’d been busy using his mouth for, “Yes, you’re amazing.”

“And here I thought you had finally run out of words,” I chuckled while crawling on top of him and coming to rest against his hips.

“There are other things I’d like to do with my mouth instead,” he mumbled, his tongue darting out before he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. Spencer’s apparent penchant for going down on me was duly noted and much appreciated, but it wasn’t what I wanted from him right now.

“Oh?” I responded, using my thumb to pull and press against his soft yet chapped lips that had been pressed against me moments before. He was clearly feeding off the attention, and before I could stop him, he’d taken my thumb into his mouth, sucking gently on the finger while his tongue covered whatever it could reach.

With a buck of my hips, I tried to reroute my mind. “As talented as your mouth is,” I moaned, “I want to try something else.”

My body was quickly growing impatient, my legs nearly shaking with the need to ride this man for all he was worth. Inching closer to his erection, I used one hand to grip him firmly, earning a loud grunt and a weak thrust from him.

“A-Are you… sure?”

I was impressed he could maintain the willpower to ask, and it started to worry me. As much fun as it was to boss him around, I would have hated to make him do something he didn’t want to. Before I went any further, I slowed my hand down to a halt, running my other hand down the side of his face.

“You can tell me no, pretty boy,” I reassured him, “I won’t be upset with you.”

“No! I-I…. I want you to!” he practically shouted, “I want—“

I didn’t let him get the thought out, my hand around him tightening and beginning to sloppily stroke him.

Somehow, he persisted, eventually concluding with a strangled, “I want to make you feel good.”

I giggled, drawing my body up further and dragging my now soaked sex against his cock still in my hand.

“Are you sure you’re not just being selfish, Dr. Reid?”

His eyes rolled, his breath hitching as he pressed his hips up against me. But I didn’t let him come closer, maintaining my distance and the pace of the gentle roll of my hips. I noticed out of the corner of my eyes that his hands were hovering, struggling not to touch me. His willpower was more impressive than I’d originally guessed.

“Tell me,” I started, running my hands down his chest while I continued to rock against him, “is this what you were fantasizing about?”

“Fuck.”

The word was like music to my ears. It was so rare for Spencer to curse, and to know that I was the one driving him to such lengths filled my chest with butterflies. My hips were moving faster, trying to elicit more lascivious noises from him.

“There’s my naughty boy.” I said between a moan. Spencer’s thrusts were becoming more purposeful, each one lining up with me in a specific position on top of him. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what he was doing.

“Were you thinking about how it would feel to fuck me?”

He only whimpered in response, his head lolling in a sad attempt at a nod. It was confirmation enough for me, although in another situation I might have made him answer with his words. The poor thing was clearly overwhelmed.

He wouldn’t have gotten away with it if he wasn’t so cute. But there was something about his eyes screwed shut, his mouth either hung open or clenched so tightly his teeth would grind against each other.

On the next thrust, I let him achieve his desired result, letting the head of his cock breach my folds just enough to draw another loud, broken moan from him.

“Now that you know what I feel like,” I teased, freezing in place and holding his hips down, “I bet it’s all you can think about, huh?”

“Yes, please, (y/n).”

My name was uttered with such a pure longing and desperation, it took my breath away. Once I started to pull away from him, his hands made the daring move of grabbing my hips, although they didn’t apply much pressure yet.

“Please what?” I asked, quirking my head to the side.

“Please, fuck me.” If that crudeness wasn’t enough, he quickly followed it up with an even more broken, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Removing my hands from his hips, I placed them on top of his. I led them up my sides, purposefully avoiding my breasts as I drew them along my collar bones. “Oh really? Anything?”

“Yes,” he pleaded, “Please.”

“Okay pretty boy,” I finally acquiesced, removing both of his hands from my chest much to his dismay. “Then what I want you to do…” I placed them gently by his sides, squeezing them to offer the option to hold onto the sheets instead, “is for you to stay just like this and look real pretty for me while I enjoy myself.”

His heavy breathing only got worse the longer I took, and once his hands were positioned, I cradled his face in my hand, trying to draw his attention back to me. He opened those hazel eyes, filled with pure devotion and fervor.

“Can you do that for me?” I asked, tracing along his jaw one more time.

Spencer went to nod, but then corrected himself, his voice shaking with enthusiasm, “Yes. Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.”

That was the last thing shared between us before I repositioned my hips and slowly lowered onto his length. The longer I drew it out, the longer and louder he would moan, his hands crinkling the sheets.

“God, you feel so fucking good, Spencer,” I whined, a delirious smile spreading across my cheeks. I slid onto him with ease, slick with his saliva and my own arousal from all his hard work. “You did such a good job getting me ready for your cock.”

I was absolutely certain that he deserved the praise, his hands remaining right where I’d placed them. His eyes were fixated on me, even through a lustful haze. It was clear how highly he viewed me, and his entire body trembled with each movement.

“I’m so proud of you, my pretty boy,” I continued, my hands now exploring every inch of his chest and arms while I rocked on him, still not giving him the kind of stimulation that he desired. “Say my name.”

“(Y/n)…” Although it was quick, his voice was still so muted. It sounded so much like when he was trying to hide his illicit behavior.

But I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear him begging my name, savoring the way it tasted on his tongue.

“Louder,” I ordered, “I want everyone to hear how badly you want me.”

“(Y/n),” my name fell from his lips louder now, but he was still biting his tongue.

I must admit, I was also a little distracted, my mind focused entirely on his full I felt with him inside of me. My hips were lifting in small, rhythmic motions, slowly rising and falling to enjoy the way my body stretched to accommodate his size. While I hummed happily, Spencer’s throat was filled with high pitched moans.

“You look so pretty like this,” I said with a smile, a single finger toying with his bottom lip while my other hand was firmly pressed against his chest for balance. The muscles of his stomach and arms were tensed with restraint.

But then something inside of me swelled as I realized just how close we were to having never experienced this moment. Spencer would have been happy to let me get myself off in the shower, and then go to bed and act like it never happened.

The thought took control over me, and the next time I slowly raised my hips, I dropped back onto him with my full body weight.

“(Y/n)!” he shouted, his hands lifting off the sheets before gripping even more of the hotel sheets. His lips kept moving to mouth my name, but no words were coming out.

“I can’t believe you were going to deprive me of this,” I scowled, looking down at him with the bottled up frustration of all the nights I’d gone to bed with him only a few feet away.

Luckily for Spencer, though, that’s when he finally built up the courage and sincerity to say the two magic words.

“I’m sorry.”

I felt the words as they fell from his lips, my hips slowly down and my movements becoming shallower in return.

“Are you?” I teased, “Are you really sorry?”

“Yes! Fuck—!“ he yelled as I slammed back down onto him, his entire body jerking under me. His hands gripped the bed so hard the sheets lifted off, pathetic sobs wrecking his body. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I let my pace quicken, my hips dropping in rough, deep motions.

“Doesn’t this feel better than your fucking hand?” I groaned, biting my bottom lip and trying to commit the feeling of him to memory.

“Yes. You feel amazing,” he praised, his face contorted in absolute bliss while he tried to keep his eyes open, “Y-You’re perfect.”

I could see from his eyes just how closely he was watching me, trying to build a repertoire of images for him to recall later when I wasn’t around.

But that was the thing; he wouldn’t need to remember this to bring it back. Because as far as I was concerned, he was mine. We could have each other whenever and wherever we pleased. If he wanted to use me to get himself off, there would always be a consequence to pay if he failed to return the favor.

“Next time you want to touch yourself,” I warned, grabbing his chin roughly, “remember that no hand will ever compare to the way I can make you feel.”

“I want to show you,” he panted, a thin veil of sweat forming on his face while he tried to maintain his breathing, “I want to show you how sorry I am.”

He must have seen the hesitant curiosity on my face, because he quickly followed up with a clearer explanation, “I-I want to fuck you.”

There was something in those warm hazel eyes that steeled over; a dark, burning desire to match my intensity. I couldn’t stop the smirk that crept over my lips at the thought of Spencer losing control.

“Fine,” I said with a brief shrug, prying his hands off the sheets and placing them at my hips, “Fuck me, then.”

As soon as my hands left, he gripped my hips hard enough to leave ten small crescent indents in their wake. I sighed at the contact, closing my eyes just for a second to enjoy the rare display of force. But his thrusts weren’t as powerful, starting slow and relatively shallow compared to how I’d been riding him.

“I said fuck me, Spencer,” I mumbled, trying to come down harder on him. But his hands stopped me, so I whined in frustration. “Show me what you were fantasizing about,” I spat, “Fuck me!”

Apparently, my words struck a chord within Spencer, and soon after his grip on my hips was used to hold me down while he drove into me like a man unhinged. My entire body shook with each thrust, and part of me was just shocked by how much power he had hidden in that thin figure. With each motion, he bottomed out inside of me.

“Spencer!” I cried out, my hands gripping the bed to stop me from falling on top of him. Our eyes were locked, his hands now forcing me further down against him as his thrusts became disjointed.

“(Y/n), I-I can’t hold on much longer,” he whined, his eyes barely able to stay open. “You feel so good. You—fuck!”

He threw his head back when I clamped down on him, a string of foreign curses quickly following.

“Fuck, Spencer, I’m almost there,” I begged, “Please—!”

I didn’t even notice the way he had sneaked his hand between our bodies, his thumb swiping over my clit and eliciting a shrill moan from me.

“Harder!” The vague instruction wasn’t lost on Spencer, who chose to increase the power of both his hips and hands. Within seconds, I was collapsing in on myself. The tension that had built up in my stomach was about to snap.

I opened my eyes, immediately finding Spencer’s soft yet determined gaze. Without considering why, I lowered myself to close the gap between us. Our lips crashed together for the first time, not bothering to waste the precious little time that remained in our first night alone together. Our tongues found each other quickly, and I wondered why it felt like I’d kissed him a million times before.

It was the gentle, loving moan that Spencer shared between our lips that pushed me over the edge. My arms wrapped around the pillow under his head, pulling our mouths closer together while my trembling legs tightened around him. Spencer’s motions didn’t stop, the tight circles he drew at my crest and his thrusts continuing despite the resistance of my walls fluttering around him.

Eventually, once he felt my body begin to relax, he followed after me. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he used both hands to force me down flush against him. I cried out at the sensation of him bottoming out in me before flooding me with his warmth.

“Spencer,” I sobbed, my mouth unable to stay on his any longer. My body slid down against him, going limp in his arms while he gave a few more thrusts to ensure that my body would take every drop he had to offer.

We laid there for a long while, and once I got my strength back, I tangled my hands in his hair, my head resting against the crook of his neck. I peppered little kisses against the sensitive skin, enjoying the way his happy humming sent vibrations through my lips.

“You’re such a good boy,” I purred against him, my hips moving just enough to cause him to jerk under my touch. He sighed, his hands sliding across my back and holding me against him.

With a hushed, drunk laugh, I whispered in his ear, “You know what?”

Spencer paused, turning to try and look at me from our tangled position.

“I think I forgive you.”

The next morning was the most pleasant I think I’d ever been after a case. I managed to dodge the suspicious glances from JJ and Elle, but only barely. When they’d asked me why I seemed so much happier than when I left, I’d just told them the truth… I’d taken a shower and figured some stuff out. I just left out what I’d figured out, and everything else that followed.

I knew they didn’t really believe me, but I guess they also found the possible theories too implausible. They didn’t bring it up again, and we all sat quietly and tried to enjoy the same old boring continental breakfast.

“Why, would you look at that?” Morgan’s voice was the first to break the monotony, a big grin on his face as he motioned to the man that had finally come to join us. “Reid’s awake in time for breakfast.”

Spencer’s groggy smile quickly faded at the jab, and he shied away from the group and headed straight for his favorite part of the day.

“It’s not that uncommon,” he mumbled while filling a cup with sugar and a splash of coffee.

“I don’t know. Something seems different about you.”

I wasn’t sure if Morgan was just being facetious, or if he had genuinely noticed a change in his best friend. Because let’s be honest – Spencer has always been jumpy and shy. Then again, maybe that was what Morgan sensed. Because as soon as Spencer met my eyes, there was the tiniest flash of a smile.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he replied, turning to join his friend at the table. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to sit next to me. We hadn’t exactly discussed how this morning would go, but a little distance was probably a good idea.

But then it happened. The chaos returned.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” Morgan said.

The words were uttered at the worst possible time. Right as Spencer had taken a sip, he’d just as quickly choked on the hot liquid, sputtering half the contents out of his mouth. I barely withheld my laugh, stifling it with my hand while I tried to avoid looking at the two men to our left.

Elle was watching me with narrowed eyes and a clever smirk, noting the way I was struggling to hide my reaction. It wasn’t until then that I realized how much more suspicious it would seem that I wouldn’t want to laugh.

Spencer took off to the bathroom, presumably to clean off the coffee he’d just gotten all over his chest. Meanwhile, I returned to mine, sipping it and avoiding eye contact with both of the women now turned to me.

“… what did I say?” Morgan asked, clueless to the entire situation. Once he looked over to us, Elle finally gained the confidence to voice her conclusion, albeit in a sneaky manner.

“Really?” she laughed, “Pretty boy?”

“What?” I cheekily replied with a small shrug, “He is pretty.”

(Tell me what you thought about the piece here!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid request #reid request #smut #sub!spence #sub!spencer reid #imaginingafterdark

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docholligay · 3 years

Text

War and Peace

THe entire universe, to see where this sits, is HERE

You could taste the silence in the air. A silence so loud it rung in her ears like a bomb. Mercy dropped the gun to the ground, mouth open, letting each inch of silence roll about on her tongue, as Tracer brushed her face with her sleeve, streaking the red across like a painting.

“Right then,” Tracer holstered her gun, “There’s that done and dusted.”

Mercy stared at the body on the ground. She had met Moira when she was sixteen, sixteen and a little intern, running about the lab working as hard as she could. She hadn’t liked her much, even then, even before the cruelty of which she was capable of had become quite clear. There was always something about her approach to medicine, the way she had laughed at Mercy’s faith the first time they’d met, the way she spoke to people, that had felt unkind. She was already calloused in a way Mercy never learned to become. As the years had gone on, her curiosity had replaced her humanity, and there had been no stopping her. Killing her had been the only choice. No, that wasn’t true. But it had very likely been the correct one.

But Mercy had never learned to be calloused, and though she did not mourn for Moira much directly, she mourned for what she could have been, if she had allowed her brilliance to light the world, and not to burn it.

“I was…”Mercy looked to Tracer picking a bit of brain out of her collar. “Why did you?”

“Because, Ang,” Tracer put a bit of water on the edge of her shirt, and went to wipe her face again, “Let’s say you managed to pull the trigger. You might ‘ave done, you’re a strong woman, but you’d’ve thought about it the whole of your life, wondered if you’d done the right thing. Me? Won’t think of it but with a smile. Sleep the sleep of the angels tonight, I will. SOme people need killing.”

“She could have helped you.” Mercy barely choked out. “She could could have given you--”

No, she couldn’t. “Tracer gave a laugh and shook her head. “ She never gave nobody nothing but grief. She might ‘ave said she could, I believe that. But Moira wasn’t never interested in fixing nothing. She knew it’d stop you, if you thought there was a chance. But Ang, Moira didn’t even know ‘ow bad she ‘urt me, much less ‘ow to do anything about it.”

Tracer was very likely not wrong, and Mercy knew that. Moira knew her well enough to know that even if Tracer was having mild symptoms, Mercy would want to help. Mercy loved her patients, moreso her friends, and Moira had always mocked her for it. But she’d known Mercy, and her weaknesses. Every word Moira had said before Tracer blinked up next to her had been designed to make Mercy doubt herself.

Well, it had worked.

Pharah walked out to the scene and took a glance at the woman on the ground before taking a look to Tracer. “Please tell me she was armed.”

“Not a bit. But,” Tracer took a drink of water, “She ‘adn’t formally surrendered, I think, so, all’s well that ends well, innit?”

Her eyes sharpened. “The rules exist to protect us from--”

“And I’ve just said,” Tracer sat on a large bit of rubble, “that she ‘adn’t surrendered. I’m not taking notes on this, Fareeha, you and I both know she’d never be ‘eld to account for what she did, and no one can blame us, given what--”

“It is because we have a personal history with her that we need to be above--”

“Personal ‘istory! Hah! Love a bit of understatement, I do, but she bloody nearly tortured us to death, love. In a coma for two fucking days, I was, love, and don’t think I don’t notice that you’ve suddenly discovered a willingness to go about without your bloody arm that previously escaped you. Can’t be the pain of it, eh love?” She shook her head and looked away. “Personal ‘istory. ‘ell.”

“Fareeha.” Mercy touched her hand.

Pharah looked at her, and her eyes immediately softened, her hand cupping Mercy’s blood-freckled cheek.

“Of course. Are you all right?” She brushed a tendril of golden hair behind her ear. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, but,” tears started to feel her eyes, and she felt immediately ashamed, “Oh, I was never wanting--it’s all so--I”

Pharah took her in her arms. “I know. There was nothing you could do. Tracer is, of course she is wrong, to play,” she shot a look over her shoulder, “judge, jury, and executioner--”

Tracer popped to her feet. ‘Well, ‘ere’s me off to the pub to celebrate me appointment.”

“--but in a sense, she might also have been right. Moira committed terrible acts.”

Mercy buried her face into Pharah’s shoulder. She was sure of nothing in this moment. Everything felt wrong, and she should have felt a sense of peace that Moira would never hurt anyone, ever again, and she knew that Tracer had been right, that nothing was ever going to stop Moira except her death. She had been standing there, with her hand on the trigger, and hadn’t she been ready to shoot? Would she have?

She was sure of nothing in this moment, but that Pharah was there, and Pharah loved her, and Pharah would understand where the rest of the world did not. She would know that it was possible to hold that Moira was a terrible person who did terrible things, but also that it could have been different. She would understand that Mercy did not mourn Moira herself so much as the human being she might have been, and that the end of her story had to be at the point of Tracer’s gun. There would never be a chance for her to do better, now.

Only Pharah would understand the way that hurt. That things would never be better. Only Pharah would understand the way Mercy would always wonder if she could have done more. How Mercy felt compromised. Pharah would understand.

“I love you,” Mercy said, and it felt like the only true thing left in the world.

Pharah kissed her temple. “We can go home. No one would blame us for doing the paperwork tomorrow.”

Mercy nodded, and pulled away. “I--yes.”

Pharah squeezed her hand, and came alongside of her, putting herself between Mercy and the body on the ground. It was a grey day, and Mercy felt no sense of celebration, but what she did have was a deep sense of being loved, and a sense, however difficult, of the door finally being closed. There was peace in that.

There was a bird, high up in a tree and far away, but she could hear it’s song as it began to chirp brightly against the grey. Pharah’s hand was warm in hers. There were little buds in the flowerbeds.

“Oi!” Tracer’s voice echoed across the street as she drew her gun, “at ten!”

There was the sound of a shot ringing out, deep and heavy, and then silence again as the black cloak dissipated back into the shadows.

It took a full ten seconds for Mercy to realize she couldn’t breathe.

And she was bleeding.

#HON HON HON

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popatochisssp · 3 years

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I need memes for the new boys. Meme me, Poppy. Meme me.

As always, I am ashamed at how well-equipped I am to answer this question...

Meme Fluent: Ash (Undergloom Sans), Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus), Sunny (Gastertale Sans)

Can At Least Ask Where The Bathroom Is In Meme: Brick (Horrorfell Sans), Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus), Aster (Gastertale Papyrus)

Meme-blivious: Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus), King (Horrorfell Papyrus), Merc (Horrorswap Sans), Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Very savvy and up on all the most popular memes, scrolling through memes is an activity very low on the ‘activity’ part and great for when he’s feeling a little too tired to do anything else. He’s very into tiktoks, which help him keep up to date on the latest meme songs-- some of which he might try to learn to play on his own. In general, he’s also into memes with funny or weird-looking animals (frogs, possums, axolotls, etc), no specific kind of meme, the presence of a goofy-looking creature in it is usually good enough to get a smile or a chuckle out of him.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Not all that up to date on the meme scene, he’s usually busy with other things... but! He really loves relatable memes, especially ones about procrastination or not being able to focus on work or having to do chores, everyday mundane irritations that everybody can relate to! He also thinks reading comprehension errors are great harmless fun (i.e., “my bad i thought u said moths”), just silly misunderstandings that make for confusing interactions until someone realizes.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Doesn’t always remember every meme, but he gets the gist of most of them. His favorites are the MS Paint memes, usually the more poorly drawn, the better (but a fan of pretty much every catcrumb image he sees, those chaotic little cats are great). He can also be caught laughing himself to wheezing and banging on the table over completely bizarre and out of context interactions--for some reason, they just hit right on the funny bone and he has no defense against them. (The ‘Nyquil Detroit Become Liquid’ post nearly killed him, but he would’ve thanked it.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Not too interested in memes. He’s peripherally aware of them but rarely knows the latest trends or cares to know them. He does have a slight fondness for evil memes--ones about being evil or having an evil lair or just have the word ‘evil’ as an adjective in front of something else seemingly incongruous--he finds them silly and they can usually win at least a smirk out of him when he happens to come across one. If you want a laugh, though, find him some of those screenshots of old newspapers from the 30s-50s, formally written humor that still holds up even now (like The Windsor Star, Ontario, November 1, 1958, The Cincinnati Enquirer, Ohio, February 21, 1947, or Barnard Bulletin, New York, December 20, 1935). Sensible chuckles abound from those!

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Not too into memery, he’s definitely got a lot of other things going on and isn’t always online. Still, he is a fan of stuff like one-time-i-dreamt and other accounts of peoples’ dreams or thought processes. He thinks it’s interesting, the little peek into the wandering, strange, and sometimes funny subconscious, or how people think about love and tenderness and nostalgia and remind others to appreciate those things, too. It’s a very niche, wholesome sort of enjoyment for sure... but not to worry! If you’re looking for something more mainstream and ‘haha funny,’ he also got very into the whole ‘Surprise! It’s cake!’ meme trend that was going on for awhile and is still delighted to find a video where a realistic object is cut into and turns out to be cake. He’s definitely going to make one himself, maybe as a social media marketing thing for his home business...

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Very meme savvy and tends toward some of the maybe darker types of humor--stress and anxiety memes, introvert memes, et cetera. Animated text is a big one he likes, with enough of a mix of pessimist and optimist memes that he doesn’t come away from checking it actually bummed out or feeling bad, a fine line to walk to be sure. He also likes coding and programming humor! He’s still kinda teaching himself, so he definitely doesn’t get them all, but it gives him a little sense of accomplishment and community when he does, which he really likes.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Not interested in memes, and a lot of them are heavily based on visuals which, unfortunately, he’s going to miss the context. Still, he does get a hell of a kick out of brazen and blatant misinformation--the smooth sharks post, facts-i-just-made-up, and the like--and finds it hilarious when someone insists something that is obviously untrue, especially if a lot of people aren’t getting the joke and are trying fervently to convince them of their wrongness. He’s also a little bit evil, so whenever he learns a new piece of whatever slang is popular and in at the moment, he’s going to use it incorrectly, or use outdated slang to induce cringe in those around him. ‘Totes yeet yo’? Yes. ‘That is so pog, as the kids say’? Of course. ‘It’s lit, fam’? Definitely, who do you take him for? The cringier, the better, he revels in the discomfort of others when he throws one of those babies out.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Definitely knows a little bit about memes, not always the latest trends but his base knowledge is pretty good, and of course has his favorites. He loves John Mulaney references and reaction images, they just Speak to him, y’know? Outside of that, he’s very fond of day-of-the-week memes, Tuesday Again?, Out of Touch Thursday, Fat Fuck Friday and so on. Aside from being a useful reminder of what the hell day of the week it is, he likes the consistency and recurrence of it, just a silly little moment to look forward to at some point like, “oh yeah, it’s el muchacho monday, nice!”

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Pretty wise to the meme scene overall, loves the fun and creativity of it all. If you want him to absolutely lose his shit, though, show him a terrible picture of an animal--by which I mean, poorly photoshopped, blurred, in mid-panoramic, as long as the end result is an absurd or very screwed up image. Why are things like ‘buff half cat’ and ‘dog but very, very long’ his sense of humor? He has no idea, but the worse it looks, the harder he laughs. He has a bit of a fondness for ‘gotcha’s too, like a Rickroll but really anything where you go into it expecting one thing, and get trolled by receiving something else. (If Megalovania memes were a thing in his universe, he would be all over them, if that gives you an idea of the kind of gag he thinks is funny!)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Aware of memes, but not all that invested in them. He likes corporate and office/business memes a lot-- the kind that roast bosses and unnecessary meetings, translate ‘polite’ corporate phrases, anything to do with emails--because they can be very relatable. He also likes seeing screencaps of people on Facebook or Twitter getting dragged for misinformation, or trying to act like a pompous jerk and getting shredded (for legitimate reasons of course, not just random unprovoked cyberbullying). He...may be involved in a bit of that sometimes himself: he may not be working in a scientific field, but he is half of a scientist, and just petty enough to spend a few hours of his free time looking up and reading through a few credible sources to cite in a strong and well-crafted rebuttal argument if someone is being especially, dangerously wrong about something. Not everyone has the time and resources to do it, so why shouldn’t he? 😇

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

Skeptical (w/ Tobias Carrick)

Book: OH: TY. Characters: Eleanor Bloom (MC), Tobias Carrick, Aurora Emery, and Bryce Lahela (briefly). Summary: Eleanor confronts Tobias about Aurora. Rewrite of Book 3, Ch. 9.

Word Count: 2.1k Rate/Warnings: Teen, few curse words.

A/N: Hello! I'm bringing something different than usual. PB has been doing like Tobias never used Aurora, like he never hurt my friend (and LI too) and personally, I can't stand it. So here's my take about it. I wrote it with Eleanor instead of Rosalía because in Rosalía's universe Aurora never tranfers to Mass Kenmore.

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @romereadingshop @starrystarrytrouble @penda-bear @queenelianar @julia-highstorms @mercury84choices @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations I'm using my Aurora x Rosalía taglist because I thought you might be interested in reading this. Feel free to ignore it if only want to read romance lol

_________

Eleanor furrowed her lips as she was listening to Tobias telling his side of the story with Ethan.

When Tobias joined the Diagnostic Team, she was very dubious about everything that involved him. She didn't know him enough but the few things she knew about weren't good.

His blatant competitive attitude, the feud with Ethan, the fact that he was hired by Leland without consulting Ethan. All those signs telling her she shouldn’t trust Tobias.

But once she got to know him better, her image of him started to change. He wasn't the insufferable he was the first day, he was actually charismatic and rather funny. Easy going once she knew him past his competitive attitude, and she had learned a lot with him even if Tobias wasn't the type of Doctor she would normally admire. His values were totally opposed to hers, as she learned with Francis' case.

But still, something was stopping her from actually trusting him.

She did believe he was sorry for the stupid, childish attitude he had with Ethan, and seemed to be acting according to that, trying to make up for his mistakes.

He deserved a second chance.

But her skepticism had nothing to do with the Diagnostics Team or Ethan.

It was about Aurora.

“What is it? You don't believe me?” Tobias asked when Eleanor hadn't said a word since he finished his story. Trying to hide his concern, he gave her a mischievous smirk.

Eleanor didn’t know what to say.

It was hard to believe he wasn’t the same person who sabotaged his own friend when last year he used a person to get what he wanted. He hired Aurora to entice Harper to work in Mass Kenmore.

He hurt her friend, even unknowingly. And Eleanor couldn’t forget that or just get past that.

“Why do you say that?” Eleanor asked, trying to conceal her skepticism, but there was no use. She had always been too transparent with her emotions, and this time wouldn't be the exception.

“Well, you don’t look too convinced with what I told you.”

He was right. She wasn’t.

Eleanor sighed. Should she tell him? It wasn't her problem to tell, it was Aurora's, and knowing her, she would never confront Tobias about it. She barely had confronted her Aunt because they were family, but in no way she would face the umpteenth person that used her to get to Harper Emery.

“Come on, we're among friends here. I confided in you really top secret stuff, Elle.”

Eleanor grimaced at the sound of that name on his lips.

"I prefer Ellie if you don't mind. The only person that calls me Elle is my partner."

Tobias' hazel eyes widened in surprise for a brief second, “Sure, sure, my bad. Ellie it is.”

Eleanor nodded.

“So? Come on, be honest. I won’t get mad at you because you can’t believe I wanna mend up things with Ethan.”

“It’s not that. This is not about Ethan.”

“Then what is this about?”

Eleanor pondered her words. What was the best way to approach this?

“I believe you regret what you did to Ethan, but it's hard to tell you have changed since that.”

His brows knitted in curiosity, but for a brief second, embarrassment flashed features, “Okay, that's fair. Can I ask what makes you believe that?”

Eleanor wasn't particularly a confrontational person. Only when a person pressed her buttons she would actually confront that said person. And Tobias hadn't pressed any buttons, but the chance that they would have this kind of conversation in the future was extremely low. And she really needed to tell him that, in order to have a more amicable relationship with him.

“The fact that you used a person to get what you want.”

Tobias frowned, “Eleanor, what are you talking about?”

He was incredulous. And oblivious. Apparently, he had no idea where she was going with that accusation.

“You used Aurora to get Harper to work in Mass Kenmore,” Eleanor said, and Tobias' face disfigured instantly, “You didn't hire Aurora because she was a good doctor, but because she was Harper Emery's niece.”

“How did you know?”

“When you went to pick up some stuff after the Solomon Kenmore partnership, Aurora and I heard the discussion you had with Harper.”

Tobias winced in earnest regret.

"You seem like a decent person now that I know you, but even if your mistake with Ethan was years ago, what you did with Aurora is as much condemnable as what you did to him, and this happened just last year."

As Tobias remained silent, she continued.

“That's why I can't believe you. I just… can't stand people who use other people. And it's worse if you used my friend.”

“You're right,” it was the only thing he could say.

“Do you have any idea what is like living under the shadow of Harper Emery?” Now that she had opened her mouth, she couldn't stop. “Aurora has struggled her whole life with that, and transfer to Mass Kenmore was the opportunity to escape that. She deserves the spotlight, that people value her for her work, for her brilliance, and not for her family name. But it turned out, it wasn't because you believed she was good. You actually didn't give a fuck about her as long as you get what you wanted.”

Tobias gave her a pained look, “Aurora is a brilliant doctor, an outstanding resident. It didn't take her long to become the best resident in Mass Ken, and I know she'll achieve great things after finishing her residency.”

“But you found out that after. You only saw her as your mean to get Harper. And that's wrong. I'm sorry, but I can't act like this never happened. You used my friend, you made her doubt about her worth. I can't forget that.”

“You're right, Eleanor. But she should've never found out...”

“That's not the point! Or it is, actually. You did it knowing it was wrong. It doesn't matter if she finds out or not. You used a person and that was wrong. And if you're really trying to grow up from that 'blatant competitive' attitude, the first thing you should stop doing is using people.”

Tobias averted her eyes for a few moments, processing her words, concealing the shame.

He never thought their conversation would turn out like this.

“Well, what can I say? You're right in feeling that way about me, Eleanor, so I won't try to change your mind when it's clear that the wrong is on me. ”

“I've been very tempted to like you, but I can't like the person who hurt my friend. Hypocrisy doesn't work for me.”

Tobias shook his head, amazed, “You're something else, Eleanor. I wish I was lucky enough to have a friend like you, firm in your values and loyal.”

"You were lucky enough to have it, Tobias, but you betrayed him. Ethan is a loyal friend, and true to his values to a fault. And probably you know that better than me."

Tobias gave her a sad smile. Eleanor could swear there was melancholy in his eyes.

“Thank you for your honesty, Eleanor. I really appreciate that. I'm gonna learn a lot with you.”

Eleanor blushed, incredulous. He was being sincere or he was just schmoozing?

Only time would tell.

The cafeteria was quiet at that time of the night. Perfect place to study. Bryce had been interrogating Eleanor for the past thirty minutes in his interest to help her study for the boards, making knowledge questions as well as practical cases he had found on the web.

"Okay, we have this 2-year-old boy, his mother found him unconscious…" He started reading on Eleanor's tablet, but suddenly stopped as he saw Aurora approaching their table, "Hey Aurora! Coming to join the midnight study session?"

“No, thanks, Bryce,” Aurora replied, giving him a tiny smile, “Would you mind…? I need to speak to Eleanor. ”

Bryce looked from Eleanor to Aurora for a second and then nodded, “Oh, sure! She's all yours. Well, to speak to her she's all yours, we all know she's mine.”

“Oh my god, Goldie, just go!” Eleanor giggled, tilting her head as Bryce was leaning to kiss her.

“Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will, thank you, love.”

Once Bryce was out of sight, Eleanor turned to face Aurora, who was sitting across her with a serious expression on her face, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

Aurora sighed, and after several seconds of silence, she finally spoke, “Tobias talked to me yesterday.”

Oh fuck.

Eleanor never thought Tobias would speak to Aurora about what happened in Grace's apartment, several days ago now.

“Okay…”

“He apologized for what happened with Aunt Harper. For hiring me knowing I was her niece. He was also sorry I had found out.”

Eleanor nodded, feeling a pang of fear inside her.

“At first, I was so mad at you, Eleanor. So mad. Because you had no right to tell Tobias how I felt. That I knew the truth. It was something deeply personal.”

“I know, I know, and I'm… ”

“Let me finish, Eleanor.”

Eleanor, completely pale, shut her mouth and made a gesture with her hand as if she was fastening her mouth like a zipper.

“I was mad because I would never recognize in front of him how bad it hurt me his… scheme. That's why I never confronted in the first place.”

Aurora looked down at her hands, as if she was focusing on reliving those feelings.

Eleanor was rigid and terrified. She had betrayed her trust and who knew how much time it would take her to be forgiven for that, considering the story they had.

"But after a while I realized … I never knew how much I needed an apology until it happened."

Eleanor looked at Aurora, agape.

"Tobias told me he would've never realized how wrong was that if you hadn't told him. And when he thought about the pain he might have caused, he regretted doing it. He was sorry he made me believe I was just Harper Emery's niece when I'm much more than that."

Eleanor shook her head, regret washing over her features.

“Aurora I'm truly sorry for what I did. I knew at that moment it wasn't my business to tell him what had happened, but I couldn't act like everything was fine with him. He needed to face what was wrong, but it wasn't my call, it was yours.”

“Yeah, but I would've never taken it, and you knew it. I would've never done it because I thought the only thing I needed was to get over it, and forgive myself for stupidly falling for his lie.”

Aurora bit her lip before giving Eleanor a humorless smile, “But it turns out I shouldn't be blaming myself for something I didn't do. He was the one who used me, it was his fault, not mine. So when he apologized, I realized that. And that would've happened if you hadn't intervened.”

“Aurora…”

“I've spent my whole life blaming myself for trusting people who used me, but I've never been the problem. They are. People have never cared. Never cared to sincerely befriend me and never cared to apologize when they used me. So when Tobias apologized… it felt so good, because it let me stop blaming myself for that. It's not my fault.”

“Of course not, Aurora. It's their fault. It's their fault not being able to see the amazing person you are, the brilliant doctor you are, and all the incredible things you can do and give. So fuck them. ”

Aurora chuckled, "Fuck them. Except for Tobias. He looked really sorry for what he did so maybe there's a chance for him in the end."

“Yeah. He's not that bad. But I couldn't let myself like him when he had been an ass with you. ”

“Thank you for calling him out, and for defending me. Though I beg you to please don't this again. At least talk to me before going in the whole protective mode, okay?”

Eleanor took Aurora's hands in hers, and gave her the first genuine smile of the night, bright and wide, “I promise.”

“Good, now let's call Bryce to resume your study session with a little friendly competition.”

“Oh? Competing against Aurora Emery again? You're on!”

_____

Thank you so much for reading!!!

#playchoices #aurora emery #tobias carrick #open heart #open heart choices #oph3 #oph fic #oph fanfic #open heart fanfic #open heart fic

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