#i was simply meant to curl up on the couch and watch my silly little gay shows :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

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Request: nii!bokuto fucking y/n dumb at a team reunion party and the whole team ends up joining.

Okay so I made it so the whole team is there but Akaashi and Konoha are the only ones who really get to do anything. The others are enjoying the show.

Warnings: incest, humping/grinding, voyeurism/exhibitionism, watersports/piss play, gangbang, squirting, fire play/lighter use, breeding, dirty talk, cum shots, human urinal, thigh riding, asphyxiation briefly creampie, swallowing urine

Kōtarō-nii + Gangbang [includes Bokuto, Akaashi, Konoha]

It’s just supposed to be a little get together was what you were told. Two hours later, each old teammate of Bokuto was still downstairs, chatting and laughing. Every time Bokuto laughed so joyously, it rubbed you the wrong way. It was like he forgot about you, sitting back and talking to his old teammates. You were supposed to be hidden out of sight, but your needs needed to be met and if that meant walking downstairs to remind your brother you were still waiting for him, that’s what you’d do.

You didn’t expect him and his friends to wave you over.

“[Y/N]! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Visiting your nii-san, eh?” Komi asked, an eyebrow raised. ‘Visiting’ was one way to put it, but you were actually living with Bokuto, guest room still unused as your belongings were in his bedroom.

“Guess you could say that,” Bokuto threw out, then continued. “She’s going to college here, so it’s easier to live with me than pay for on-campus living,”

“Saving money, I see,” Akaashi piped up, taking a drink from his glass. It was just water, which meant they weren’t drinking alcohol. Bokuto had a soda, but everyone else looked like they were drinking tea or water.

“Hey, [Y/N],” Bokuto tapped you on the shoulder, making you turning your head towards him. “Can you get me another drink?”

“Of course, Kōtarō-nii,” taking his empty bottle, you go into the kitchen to see where he keeps the soda. Since he doesn’t want you to have any, they’re usually up high. Standing on your toes, you still can’t reach the sweet drinks. To speed up the time, you hop on the counter only to feel someone’s hands guiding you off.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Bokuto says, caging you to the counter. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs,”

“I was bored, nii-san,” you whine, pressing yourself against him. “You’re ignoring me,”

“I’m entertaining my guests. You need to learn how to be patient,” he whispers, one of his hands rubbing at the spot between your thighs. “You’re dripping. Have you been touching yourself?”

“It’s not the same, plea—”

“If you’re good, I’ll fill you up so many times you’ll be swollen with my seed, how about that?” You nod your head, still pressing yourself against him. “Stop pushing yourself on me or I’m gonna have to punish you,”

With a final warning, Bokuto gets his own drink and removes himself from you, sighing as he sees your pout. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he pats your head. “Just another hour, okay?”

That’s what he said.. an hour ago.

Sitting beside him was almost too much to bear. Knowing he could take you whenever he wanted to and him knowing you’re desperately waiting for him to touch you, it’s all too much. Even as your thoughts swim with the image of him absolutely ravishingly you in front of his friends, your pleading eyes and a pout his way whenever he glances at you, yet all he gives is his arm around your shoulders. As a good big brother should, but this is getting to be too much.

Sarukai is the one who decided to play a game. It was a silly card game you played as kids, but it was fun to pass time. Since you didn’t wanna play, you had to sacrifice your spot to Akaashi, your bottom instead being placed on Bokuto’s thigh. A warning squeeze on your hip was all you got, quickly telling them that you were cold which they all brushed off, going on with the game. He was like a heater, warmth rising from beneath his clothes, but it just made you more hot and bothered. It wasn’t until he started rubbing a hand on your thigh — inner thigh, included, his fingers brushing against your sensitive area — did you really feel impatient.

You hoped nobody would notice as your body started moving, and it seemed like they didn’t. Legs on either side of his thigh, you rubbing yourself against him, trying to get as much friction as you could. Bokuto doesn’t stop you, his hand instead rubbing soothing circles into your hip as you continue to grind against his thigh. Eventually, you end up humping his thigh as the rubbing effect wears off, only to have him lean down to your ear. “You can’t wait, can’t you? Such a needy slut needs to be punished, you know?”

There’s no other warning, you suddenly being pushed in the middle of the game as everyone shoots back in shock, surprised at Bokuto’s actions. “You’ve wanted this for a bit, haven’t you? That’s why you’re even wetter, isn’t it?” He smiles down at you, prying your shorts off. He then addresses the guests of his abode, “you guys get to see how much my beloved sister loves me,”

With your shorts and panties off, you’re staining the wooden table with your dripping juices as Bokuto gets his cock out. His friends seem into it, sitting back on the couches and chairs, eyes glued to the way Bokuto spreads your sopping cunt, clenching around nothing as you wait for him in anticipation. Licking his lips, he sinks into you, without letting you adjust as your legs tense and your toes curl, squeezing him as he pushes himself all the way in.

“Did you already cum?” He asks, seemingly dumbfounded by your sudden orgasm. You don’t answer, simply keeping your head against the table and having your eyes rolled into the back of your head. With no response, he decides to roughly thrust up into you, making you gasp as he pushes in so far, feeling so full as he snaps his hips to yours, your hands grasping at the edges of the table as you moan. Through your blurry vision, you’re able to see his old teammates with their own cocks out, hands around the thick appendages as their eyes are trained on how well you take in their former captain’s cock.

It’s only mere seconds before you’re mewling, back arching as you’re clamping around his cock again, body twisting with the force of your orgasm as you shake. Bokuto removes himself from your cunt, though, making you whine. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna let my friends have a turn with you, though. You seem eager Akaashi, wanna go first?”

“I’d much prefer her mouth than her pussy, Bokuto-san,” he says, moving around to your head. His cock comes into view, to which you eagerly open your mouth to take him in, tongue killing out to lick at the tip.

“I won’t pass up free pussy,” Konoha chuckles, taking Bokuto’s position and pushing into you. “Thought she’d be loose after taking a cock that big, but you’re tight as a virgin!” He laughs, pinching your clit as you squeeze down on him even more, muffled moans coming from your throat which is stuffed with Akaashi’s cock.

“Mhm! I taught her well, didn’t I?” Bokuto hums, guiding one of your hands to his cock. “Don’t forget about me, baby girl,” he says, low as he watches your hand jerk him off. Despite your eyes not being anywhere around his form, your hand works expertly from experience of handjobs. Akaashi seems pleased himself, fingers occasionally tracing your jaw and throat, only to close your nose as he face fucks you. Konoha seems to be enjoying himself, as well, your legs secured around his waist as he thrusts into you, his thumb rubbing at your bundle of nerves that has milky fluid coating his cock with each thrust.

“I’m close, can I do it inside?” He asks, looking at Bokuto, using his own hand to guide yours.

“No. You can cum in her ass, but not her cunt. That’s only for her nii-san, isn’t that right?” He directs the last bit at you, fingers pinching your nipples as your body jerks. Konoha decides to pull out, letting his semen paint your stomach white as he groans, making sure every drop lands on your skin. Akaashi is right behind him, closing your nose as he shoots his own load down your throat, your eyes glazed over as you drink it all.

Konoha takes it upon himself to push back into your cunt, feeling your walls clamp around him once more time. It’s too much and you feel something warm fill your insides, eyes widening as you think he put a load in you. When he pulls out, however, you feel it trickling out as the warm liquid drips from your cunt. “Seems she’ll only take cum, not piss,”

“She’ll take it, won’t you, pretty girl?” Bokuto coos, fingers keeping your mouth open as Akaashi takes his turn, warm liquid filling your mouth as you struggle to not let any spill. Once he’s done, Bokuto closes your mouth and nose to force it down, your eyes squeezed shut as it tastes bitter. “See? Just gotta know which hole to use. It’s okay, I’ll clean her out so you can use her again,” he hums once more, pushing his thick cock into your still leaking pussy. The force of his thrust has you mewling, drool spilling from your lips as your body jostles with each thrust. “There’s a cute little trick her cunt will do if you give her a bit of pain,” he grunts, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. Your eyes widen at the familiar click of the item, brief light before it’s shut off. He hands it to Konoha, who then flicks it on as he brings the fire close to your face, the light dancing ridiculously close to your cheek. Akaashi keeps you fron moving your head, sweat beginning to form as Konoha brings the lighter closer, the flame barely licking your skin as you scream, tongue lolling out as your squirt all over Bokuto’s abdomen, his groan overwhelmed by your cute noises. With another thrust, he’s spilling his own load into you, fill you up exactly how you wanted him to.

Konoha shuts off the lighter, then locks across the mark against your cheek where the flame touched you, pressing a sweet kiss in apology to the hot skin. “Now, what do we say, [Y/N]?”

“Thank you for filling me up nii-san. I’ll take anything you give to me, I promise,” you sweetly say, another moan as you feel Bokuto’s piss fill you up as well, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Don’t worry, baby. Only I’ll be able to breed you, but my friends can have their fun, can’t they? I’ll promise to give you all my attention later, is that okay?” Your response is a nod of the head, the rest of his friends eager to have your holes and your hands around their cocks.

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pips-fics · 3 years

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ask: Hi! I have a request too, if you have time. 👉👈 Chan and Changbin having both an stomach ache. (I’m good with any reason). Just those two need more attention 🥺

ask by @sickminnie - be sure to check out their blog if you enjoy bts, txt, or ateez fics!!! they have an impressively varied list of things that they'll write within the sickfic uhhh genre (?) and also one of the most aesthetic blogs i've seen! thank you for the ask 💛

tw: vomit

from then to now ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

the last time changbin had been sick was predebut. he’d been pretty new to the company and very young - he hadn’t been nervous about any of it up until that point, but something about the fever or the chills or the nausea or the loneliness had welcomed the homesickness that, up until that point, he’d had no trouble shutting out.

now, years later, he felt just as small sitting there on the bathroom floor, stomach aching. he was determined not to cry this time. it’s not like it would help, anyway. what would help, he hoped, was medicine, so he forced himself to his feet, and scoured the bathroom cabinets for something to help his stomach. he came up empty, nothing but a spinning head to show for his efforts.

changbin thought to himself that he should look harder, or go out to a convenience store to get something, and then he sat heavily on the ground in front of the toilet again, right back where he’d started. his ears felt so much like they were stuffed with cottontails that he actually stuck his finger inside to be sure. it wasn’t just that, though - everything felt fuzzy, and weighted down. he didn’t feel strong enough to carry himself, so changbin laid his head on the cool toilet cover, thinking, as he drifted off, about how gross it was, but also how convenient.

——

changbin woke up to his stomach muscles clenching and ready to forcibly eject anything in his belly. he scrambled desperately to open the toilet lid and jumped at the noise it made when he succeeded, but he stayed firmly put. changbin didn’t have much of a choice. his body’s actions were out of his control for the next five minutes, dredging up more and more vomit. he shuddered during one of the few breaks he was awarded, wiped the mess off of his face using toilet paper, and had just a few seconds to wish that someone would wake up and help him. even as he thought it, changbin felt guilty; first and foremost, he wanted his group members to be healthy, and that included receiving a proper amount of sleep.

of course, he couldn’t linger over the thought for too long, as he was promptly being sick once again, but the sense of loneliness pressed on, more present than before, and he felt tears - not just of exertion - prick his eyes. he’d wake up tomorrow to a house full of too-loud boys, but for the time being, changbin felt really, truly alone for the first time in a while.

so, when a blanket fell on his shoulders, he just about jumped out of his skin.

“sorry,” a voice said, and changbin immediately relaxed, and then almost felt like laughing.

there was a part of the past that he’d forgotten. when he’d been sick all those years ago, he hadn’t been alone. chan had been there, the whole time, and here he was again.

“hyung,” changbin said when he was able, throat raw and tasting of bile, “you’re here again.”

changbin didn’t realize he’d been expecting chan to read his mind until he saw the confused look on the older man’s face.

“you must have a sixth sense for when i’m sick,” he explained - and then he hesitated. chan looked… well, regretful wasn’t quite the right word, but something about his expression made changbin feel bad. he cringed, and wiped tears from his cheeks.

“sorry, i mean– you’re always stuck taking care of me. you don’t have to, hyung, you should get some sleep.” the words pained changbin to say, even though they were entirely true. chan seemed to feel similarly, sitting ramrod straight, suddenly, face crumpling into an expression that was, very clearly, regret.

“oh, no, bin, no. i don’t–” chan hiccuped, and something suddenly clicked in changbin’s fevered brain, the final piece of the puzzle of the past coming together. chan kept talking, explaining how he couldn’t sleep anyway, and changbin nodded, but his mind was on a different timeline.

not long after he’d been sick, back when he was still a trainee, he remembered hearing that chan had caught his bug. back then, changbin hadn’t had a clue of chan’s illness until well after he was healthy again. he’d felt infinitely guilty for it - for not returning that favor - but chan himself and some of the other older boys had reassured him that it wasn’t his fault. chan was just really good at hiding things like that.

pushing his own nausea as far away as possible, changbin inspected chan closely. he really was good at hiding things, changbin thought. still, there were cracks.

in the dimly lit room, changbin couldn’t hope to tell whether the other man was sweating, but he did catch him wiping his brow. he caught chan shivering, once, his whole body shaken by a tremor, and after that changbin could see that the trembling never really stopped. and then changbin noticed chan’s hand moving to his stomach, hesitantly.

changbin spoke with every ounce of tenderness his body possessed. “why are you still up, hyung?”

the words came out sad, concerned, and warm, but chan didn’t seem to notice. he simply shrugged. “couldn’t seep,” he said, eyes darting away from changbin. “you know, the usual - i told you before.”

changbin thought that was probably part of it, but highly unlikely to be the whole story, especially when a heady belch escaped chan’s lips. he covered his mouth, quickly, with the back of his and, but there was really no way for chan to hide that once it had happened.

feeling nauseous once again at the sickly noise but determined, changbin stood, and walked over to chan. he put an arm around the older man’s shoulders.

“c’mon, hyung, i think i’m done. let’s switch.”

finally, chan relented, kneeling in front of the toilet. he was shaking, still, more now, but he turned towards changbin again, shaking his head.

“you don’t have to stay here, bin. you should get some rest.”

“hyung!” changbin scowled. maybe it was his fever getting the better of him, but he felt tears of frustration wet his eyes again. “let me help you,” he demanded. “please.”

a lot was the same now, as it had been. chan had always been a steadiness, not just for changbin, but for all of the members. he did have a sixth sense for when any of them were sick.

but some things had changed. changbin had gotten older - more stubborn, some would say, but he just wanted to do things right, this time. he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

he couldn’t tell if chan understood, or if his body had decided he’d run out of time, but it didn’t really matter. changbin stayed stubbornly where he was, kneeling next to chan as the older man threw up.

changbin’s own stomach flipped immediately upon seeing chan be sick, but he repressed the urge to vomit by sheer force of will. chan kept mumbling silly things, like “i’m okay,” and “don’t worry, bin,” in between possibly the most violent rounds of puking changbin had ever seen.

it wasn’t like he didn’t get it, though. watching someone he loved suffering like this - it was hard for changbin. every time chan gasped for air, changbin felt like he was drowning with him. every time chan whimpered at the force of a heave, changbin felt a little bit like crying.

he would have felt very useless, if he hadn’t felt the comfort of chan’s presence in the past. it felt odd, to changbin, to stand there and just rub chan’s back, but he knew it meant something.

he felt it, later.

when chan was about finished, just about ready to lean back, relax, and then try to sleep off the remnants of the bug, chan’s stomach rebelled one last time. it was an inopportune moment, and chan was too slow to get back over the toilet in time, so when his stomach muscles tightened, he curled over himself. the very little that was left in his stomach ended up as a dark brown stain on his shirt, and even after that chan kept retching. when he finally was done, for real, chan’s eyes were scared and pained and open, vulnerable in a way changbin hadn’t seen before.

shaking, chan reached for changbin. “bin, what– what’d i do,” he said, looking his shirt. “i can’t - what do i do now? i–”

“hyung! hyung, it’s okay.” changbin had the urge to laugh, once again. “do you remember what a mess i was, a couple years ago?”

chan’s lips twitched uncertainly. “but you’re sick, too.”

changbin snorted. “yeah, and you just barely stained your shirt. you don’t even like this shirt, hyung, take it off and we’ll go to bed, come on.”

and that was really all it took. it wasn’t easy, of course, getting themselves settled - they ended up on the couch in the living room, not wanting to disturb the others. by the time changbin gathered water for them to stay hydrated and trashcans - just in case - he was bone tired. but then, by the time he got back, chan was already asleep. conscience just a little bit lighter, changbin was soon to follow.

——

no reader survey this time, too tired and my computer is breaking but please feel free to send in any thoughts you'd like to share, about the fic or otherwise!

——

feel free to send more asks! / rules

#tw vomit #sick changbin #sick chan #skz #skz sickfic #kpop sickfic #sickfic #tw throwing up #tw emeto #kpop emeto #emeto tw

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httpnxtt · 4 years

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Wallpaper - Reid x Reader

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I attempted some pure fluff this time to show my love to my bby, @spencer-reid-in-a-pool ! I wanted to shower her with love and this was the only way I could think how, so I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @imagining-in-the-margins for the adorable prompt! You’re amazing and ily!

Also shout out to my amazing beta buddies, @sunlight-moonrise , @clean-bands-dirty-stories , and @definitelynotkatesblog !

Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the world of darkness that surrounds our lives, it’s important to find the light in the world. Luckily for me, our paperwork days meant being sat across from my best friend, Spencer Reid. The man whose smile lit the entire room, who could drop everything in an instant for someone he loves; who makes my days brighter at the simplest, “Hi.” The curly-haired genius spends his days surrounded by the worst humans in existence, using his brain to help the world before helping himself. With his IQ of 187, his mind works a million miles a minute, but sometimes he still needs help. That’s where my job comes in.

I joined the BAU a year ago, and was instantly drawn to the resident genius. He was timid when I first met him, as if scared the world would break him with everything it decided to throw at the sweet man. Slowly, I captured the heart of our resident genius, who was now my best friend. Over the course of the years, he became my favorite person. On cases, I would make sure he took time to drink water and rest when possible, bringing him snacks when his brain was wrapped in his geological profile. I made it my mission to teach the genius to love himself as much as he loves others.

Paperwork days were when I really got to see his bright smile and soft laughter. It became a running joke between us. Whenever Spencer would get up to grab us coffee from the kitchen, I would steal his phone to change the wallpaper to something silly. Every time he would check his phone for updates, he would see a new silly picture and grace me with a shining smile and chuckle. Even for these split moments in time, I knew I had distracted him from the morbid things littering our desks. His smile lit up the bullpen, leaving butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, my own smile gracing my lips. He would always shake his head before changing it back, already knowing he would find a new wallpaper later that day. Luckily for me, today was a long, dragging paperday which means I had plenty of time to meet my Spencer-Smile quota for the day.

First thing this morning, I got my hands on his cell. Pre-coffee brain, the only thing I could think of was the most ridiculous picture of our own Derek Morgan. The image was one Penelope graced me with, a photo he attached when shamelessly flirting with her during our downtime. As quickly as I could, I set the lockscreen and gently placed the device back on his desk, almost in the right spot although I’m sure Spencer would notice it had been moved. I sit back in my chair, slowly starting to spin as I see Spencer make his way back to our desks, two mugs in hand as his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose. I shoot up to wrap my hands around the steaming mug, the warmth like a warm hug. I pull the mug up to my face, smelling the delicious scent of coffee created perfectly to my specifications. Sometimes boy genius’ memory has its perks. Settling back at my desk, I sort through the mound of files for the day in anticipation.

Looking up from my own cases, I look across to Spencer who has his face buried in a file, his finger trailing down the pages taking my mind into places it shouldn’t go. After an hour he still hasn’t seen his wallpaper, plastering a frown on my face. I pull out my own device, immediately texting a gif of Stitch saying hi to “Pretty Boy”, hearing his phone ding almost immediately. Looking across to Spencer, he almost spits out his coffee seeing the ever flirtatious Derek Morgan gracing his screen. The reaction sent me into a whirlwind of laughter, my head thrown back, almost cackling at the poor man.

As I calm down, wiping the tears from under my eyes, I see Spencer looking at me with his signature smile, making my heart flutter.

“That was a good one, Y/N. You really got me this time.” He chuckles, looking at this screen again before looking back at me. “Might have been your best one yet,” he says as he works to change it back. The poor technophobe had to learn because of me how to change his wallpaper since he realized I wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He’s still a tad slow but watching him try to work through it makes my heart happy as I return to my own files.

As I try to work through my own files, an IM from the tech queen herself pings my computer.

P.Garcia: “Changed Boy Wonder’s wallpaper again? When are you going to tell him?! Your puppy eyes give you away, darling. You can’t lie to me.”

Y/N: “Darling Penelope, I would never lie to you. Alas, you continue shipping something that will never sail..” I reply to her, hoping she gets the gist.

Although Spencer lives in my thoughts rent free, that’s where he’ll stay. As much as I wanted him in my arms instead, it simply wasn’t going to happen. I close my messages before trying to actually get some work done. I’d rather not stay late yet again due to my tendency to be a bit scatterbrained.

***

Coffee break number two rolls around and I already have the perfect picture planned. Reid scurries into the kitchen desperate for more coffee and I rush to his desk. Pulling out his phone, I send an image to it before saving it. It is one of my all time favorites. A movie night Spencer and I shared. I convinced him to let me pamper him under the reasoning of some well deserved self-care. Surprisingly, the man went along with my antics, although fighting me on this gem. The image is a sneaky one that Reid doesn’t even know exists. During our self-care night, I tried to take pictures of him looking as cute as ever, but he kept blocking me. Luckily, Spencer fell asleep before his mask came off leaving the perfect opportunity to snap the evidence. There is Spencer in all his glory, curled up on my couch in the light blue robe I saved for him that was covered in little clouds, a purple face-mask clinging to his cheeks, trying to avoid his eyebrows.To top it all off, he wore a bright pink headband to push his hair back decorated with bunny ears. The picture shows the soft side of our boy, a side I wished he would show more.

Throwing his phone back on his pile of files, I sit back at my desk, nonchalantly sipping my now cold coffee. Seeing Reid shuffle back to his desk, I wait for him to pick up his phone with my mug resting against my mouth. Spencer readjusts his frames as he settles in his chair, looking me in the eyes before looking at his phone. Instead of his normal chuckle, a pout graces his plush lips. Although his lips are normally a favorite of mine to stare at, the pout twists my gut.

“I thought you didn’t get any pictures of me that night,” he mumbles, giving me puppy eyes that could give mine a run for their money.

Despite my pride in the picture, his tone makes me feel just a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, I thought you were so cute when you were napping. I didn’t want to make you upset.” I pout, the butterflies disintegrating as the moments pass. Rummaging through my drawer, I find my sack of trail mix and toss it to the dark-eyed man. “Here, take my trail mix, I know it’s your favorite,” I offer, a small smile painted on my face. Spencer’s eyes land on me, lips turning up once more into the smile that never fails to take my breath away.

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take it. I know it’s basically the only thing you eat on your lunch break.” His call out causes heat to rise into my face.

I stay insistent though. “I want you to have it. I don’t like making you sad.” I shoot back, giving him my infamous puppy eyes. Even Aaron Hotchner falls for them, there is no way the doctor could resist.

“Okay,” he starts, automatically having me rush across to his desk to give him the snack. “On one condition,” He finishes, making my face fall once more. Spencer never lets people just give him a present, he always does more for others. “Since you’re giving me your snack, you come with me to get a proper lunch since you need food and I could use the hour away from these files.” He smiles at me, already munching on the trail mix so I have no choice but to agree.

“Deal. BUT, I want pancakes if we’re going,” I reason with him, plopping back in my chair.

“IHOP it is.” He chuckles, the sound resonating in my brain as we both hurry through our respective files.

***

At coffee break number three, Reid stands from his desk, scrunching his nose to fix his glasses as he reaches across to snatch my mug from my desk. Hiding my face in the file until he walks away, I turn to see him shaking his head, knowing I’m about to change his wallpaper yet again.

Once I see him turn the corner, I stretch over to grab his phone he conveniently left square in the middle of his desk, giving the man yet another excuse to talk to her. Flipping through the camera roll, I hear a chuckle from the desk a few feet away. Looking over, I find the one and only, Derek Morgan shaking his head at me.

“What’s so funny, Thunder? Sad the attention isn’t on you anymore?” I tease him while trying to find the perfect picture.

“I just find the pining that goes on between two supposedly brilliant people entertaining.” He chuckles as my jaw drops, turning to him. “Come on, Princess. You don’t think we don’t all know you and Pretty Boy fancy each other, do you? It’s obvious to everyone except the boy himself.”

I shake my head. “He’d never see me that way, Morgan. This is just for shits and giggles.” I breathe out, settling on an image of our feet in front of the TV screen, mismatched socks adorning our feet while “Beauty and the Beast” plays in the background. He sports a neon pink sock along with a navy blue sock covered in planets, while my feet claimed one sock covered in different moon phases, the other covered in little alien creatures. Placing his phone on his desk, I settle back at my own, shooting Morgan a closing, “You’re just seeing things, Morgan.” before burying myself back in the file at hand.

Moments later, my mug is sat directly in front of me before Reid sits at his own desk. Automatically picking up his phone to check, my tummy flutters at the smile he releases while staring at the screen for a moment before looking at me. Making eye contact, I notice a slight pink tint to his cheeks, before he looks back at the image.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses without looking away from the screen. I feel my cheeks heat up, getting warmer by the second, but I cannot tear my eyes from the man who holds my heart without even knowing it.

***

“Hey Y/N. Ready for lunch?” Spencer asks, tearing my eyes from the IMs Garcia floods me with daily.

“Ready when you are!” I reply, jumping at the opportunity to get away from the files scattered on my desk. You’d think serial killers would take a day off sometimes. Shuffling to my feet, I grab my keys from my desk and grab Spencer’s hand, dragging him to the elevator with me.

“Seems like it’s more ready when Y/N is.” He chuckles, straightening his glasses once he comes to a stop in front of the silver doors. As we step in, Garcia frantically waves at us, before sprinting into the bullpen as the doors close.

“Well, you’re in luck, Pretty Boy. You get me as your personal chauffeur to lunch.” I beam at him as he goes bug-eyed.

“Lucky? In your death trap, Y/N?” He chuckles, putting a flabbergasted look on my face.

“Hey!” I yell at him, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “My car has lasted 15 long years I’ll have you know, and she runs as smooth as ever,” I shoot back, immediately leaving him behind when the doors open. “Maybe I’ll just go get pancakes without you then.” It’s playful when I lock all the car doors except for mine, and he knows it.

That doesn’t stop him from playing along. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/N! Will you ever forgive my poor soul?” he jokes, holding both his hands over his heart as he begs for forgiveness. Unlocking the doors, I giggle at his antics before heading to the restaurant.

***

“Y’all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” The server returns to the table with our coffees, along with an apple juice for my inner child.

“Yes ma’am. Can I get the plain pancakes with eggs, as well as a side of bacon and sausage?” Spencer asks while gathering both our menus for her. “Of course, sugar. What about you darlin’?” she turns to me as Spencer dumps almost the entire sugar container into his mug.

“I’ll just have the chocolate chip pancake, please!” I smile at her as I steal what’s left of the sugar from the man across from me.

“No problem, that’ll be right out for y’all.” She smiles at us before heading off to the kitchen.

“Did you know chocolate chips were invented by Ruth Wakefield because she decided to chop up a chocolate bar and add it to her cookie batter?” Spencer looks to me as he starts with factoids. “And white chocolate isn’t even truly chocolate! White chocolate is made with a blend of sugar, cocoa butter, milk products, vanilla, and a fatty substance called lecithin. Not that it’s a surprise, considering it doesn’t even taste like chocolate. Probably because it doesn't contain chocolate solids.” he rambles as I stare at him with stars in my eyes. “However, dark chocolate is loaded with organic compounds that are biologically active and function as antioxidants. These include polyphenols, flavanols and catechins, among others. Dark chocolate also has a list of different benefits proven from consumption.” He finishes, taking a sip of his coffee as I continue staring at the man.

“What ever would I do without you, Boy Wonder?” I say, seeing Spencer’s face heat up at my remark as he hides behind his mug.

“M-me?” He asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shakes his head in disbelief before I could respond, showering me with many more factoids while waiting for our food rather than accept my compliment.

“Alright, here’s your food darlin’. Let me know if there’s anything else I could do for y’all.” The server tells us, shooting us a smile before moving onto another table. Spencer takes his time cutting up his food, dousing his plate in more syrup than pancake. Meanwhile, I dig into my pancakes as if it’s the last thing I will ever eat.

Halfway through my own pancakes, I look up to see Spencer looking directly at me with a look I couldn’t quite distinguish.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him, almost seeming to pull him from a trance before responding.

“Oh. Uh, you have chocolate on your face.” He tells me, seeing my face flush at the information. I grab my napkin and quickly wipe my lips making sure not to miss a spot. Little did I know, there wasn’t a single speck on my face.

“Is it gone?” I ask him, hoping not to embarrass myself further.

“Oh, yeah it’s gone.” he smiles, returning his focus onto his own plate.

Going back to eating, I keep sneaking pieces of the bacon off Spencer’s plate, causing him to smile each time.

“Hey Spence. I have a question for you.” I tell him, shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth.

“And what would that be, Y/N?” He asks me, sipping his coffee.

“Why is it every time we come here you order sausage and bacon, if you never touch the bacon?” I ask him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“Would you like my honest answer?” He pushes back, as if I would want anything else from him. I nod with a mouth full of pancakes, earning a smile while he responds. “Because I know you’ll always steal the bacon from my plate but will never actually order it yourself.” He smiles at me, returning to his own food leaving me speechless and even more red.

Finishing up our plates, Spencer takes initiative to organize all of the empty dishes so our server has less work. Giggling at his antics, I pull out my phone to check the time, seeing we still have plenty of time before our break is over.

“Are we getting milkshakes?” he asks me, sipping the last of his coffee before adding the mug to his carefully organized dish-pile.

“Of course we’re getting milkshakes, what kind of question is that, Spencer?” I look at him, almost appalled he would assume we weren’t. “We each have a sweet tooth I’ve ever seen matched by anyone else, why would you ever assume I would say no to a milkshake?”

“I wasn’t sure if we had the time, I didn’t want to make us late.” He explains, shaking his head yet again at my child-like antics.

When the server returns, we both order the largest mint-chip shakes they had before returning to our usual banter in waiting. Not long after, the server returned with a single shake.

“I’m so sorry sugar, apparently we only had enough ingredients for one mint-chip. Can I get y’all something else?” The server asks us, feeling bad she couldn’t fulfill our order.

“You take the mint-chip, Spence. I’ll order something else.” I push the shake toward him as he blocks it from getting to him.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not worried about it.” He replies, fighting me over a milkshake.

“Spence-” I begin to argue before he abruptly cuts me off.

“Would you like to share the shake with me, Y/N?” he asks me, looking me directly in the eye. I froze for a moment, taken aback at the offer from the germaphobe in front of me.

“If that’s okay with you, Spence. Then, sure!” I respond, checking if it was okay with him.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay, Y/N.” He shoots back, chuckling at me before asking the server for two straws. The man in front of me steals more and more of my heart with every passing moment.

***

Going up the elevator to the BAU was a constant battle between us. Spencer secretly gave the server his card so I wouldn’t even have a chance to fight him on paying.

“You gave me your trail mix, Y/N! That’s the whole reason I asked you to get lunch in the first place! Why would I let you pay when I extended the invitation?” He shoots at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Shooting him a look of discontent, we both sit back at our desks, feeling 2 pairs of eyes staring at us from a few desks over.

“Don’t look now, but I think Tweedledee and Tweedledum are staring at us.” I lean over to whisper. Reid tries his best to look up at them, nonchalant as possible. Despite the boy being a genius, he is anything but sly, looking just in time to see Derek and Penelope snap their heads to whatever was on his desk. Giving them a smile, Reid picks up his own file to return to his own tasks for the day. However, the task only lasted so long before the genius needed yet another cup of coffee for the day. Heading off to the kitchen, I quickly grab the phone he left on his desk on his break, trying to plan the perfect image.

Before I could get far, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Staring at the homescreen on his phone, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed this before. Had this been in front of my face the entire time? Staring at the screen, I see myself and Spencer from our weekly movie nights. I had all of our silly photos, yet I had never seen this one. I see myself, puffed out cheeks with my eyes crossed, pulling at my ears to make myself look like a monkey, but my eyes can only look at Spencer. He hadn’t made his silly face. Instead, the man before me is staring directly at me, the sweetest smile across his lips. His little nose scrunch in full effect, his beautiful hazel eyes creased in the corner from his smile. That smile that could melt my heart in two seconds flat. Staring at the screen for what felt like centuries, I refocus on my surroundings when I hear his soft voice behind me.

“Wow, Y/N. Getting a little slow with the changes now, are we?” He laughs, before noticing the look on my face. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me confused more than ever. Not being able to form words, I raise my hand to show him the wallpaper, the perfect image of us. His eyes go wide, his mug almost slipping through his fingers.

“Y/N, I-” He starts.

“Spence… Where did this picture come from?” I ask him, looking back at the screen before me. “I’ve never seen this one before,” I whisper, before Spencer puts his hands over mine, the mug now living on his desk.

“I, uh. I took this one before making a face, I just couldn’t resist.” He whispers, pulling my chin up gently between his two fingers, looking me dead in the eye. “Y/N…” He starts, glancing down before gazing back at me with the same look I saw at the restaurant. “I couldn’t resist because I wanted to keep a physical copy of one of the happiest moments of my life. And I care about you... More than care about you! You make my days so much brighter when you’re around. You’re the only person to ever know me, the real me. And I..” he trails off, working his confidence up to finish his thought. “I love you, Y/N. And that picture was saved, locked away on my phone so I could be reminded how much you mean to me, and how much you care on some of my darkest days. I love you, Y/N. It’s the only thing I have locked away because it’s the moment I knew I was in love with you.” He finishes, breathing out as he waits for me to react. Stunned into silence, I stand there looking at the man, seeing his face turn to panic. “It’s okay if you do-” He starts, stunned when he is cut off by his plush lips being covered by my own. He slides his hand onto my cheek, holding my face as he returns the affection.

Pulling away, I look him dead in the eye, I pull out of his embrace to my own desk, grabbing my phone. Returning to his side, I unlock my phone to show him my own hidden homescreen, a grin spreading on my cheeks from the flood of emotion. From our self-care night, it is quite possibly my favorite image of the man. He was in his robe, bunny headband and mask, but he was trying to block the images from being taken. His hand was raised in an attempt, but I could hear the laughter radiate from the image, the smile making my heart swoon at every glance. Looking between me and the image, Spencer’s jaw drops at my own revelation, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Burying my face in his neck, I murmur my own “I love you.” Before a whistle from the peanut gallery beside us breaks it up.

Shooting a look to Penelope, I see she has the biggest smile plastered on her own face, her rosy cheeks probably stinging from the sheer joy painted on. Morgan sitting beside her lounges back in his own chair, shooting a wink our way.

Returning to our respective seats, I can’t help but steal glances at the man beside me. When he catches me, I can’t help but giggle.

“Hey Spence. How long was I oblivious to your homescreen?” I ask him, curious as to how much of a dumbass I truly was. Seeing his cheeks flush pink, he turns to me with guilt in his eyes,

“Y/N.. as much as I would love to take the credit, I don’t know where the wallpaper came from. I can barely change it back after you mess with it.” He confesses, a shy smile on his face. Laughing at his technophobe ways, it finally registers that he didn’t actually set the wallpaper.

“Wait, then who changed it?” I ask him, before hearing stilettos and boots scurrying down the hall, laughter trailing behind them. Looking back at my boy, those eyes stole all my words away, and that smile… the smile I had seen so many times before but never knew the intention, the smile I fell in love with, I knew he would forever be my always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @redbullchick @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @reidetic @gretaamyk @sunlight-moonrise @prettyricky187 @rileysann @itslatinamagia @timey-wimey-lovi @pinkdiamond1016

#httpnxtt #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #fluff

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Niki Lauda (Rush 2013) x OC Catherine/Reader

WC: 1104

Rated: T

Chapter Tags: pregnancy & labor, fluff, implied sexual content, mild hurt/comfort

A/N: I hate myself for referencing the song “Mama Laudaaa” but at the same time I couldn't help myself.

💛

Niki was in Belgium when your pains started. The 1981 season had been going quite well, but in your late condition you were forced to miss out on the last few races to stay home. He would always come back to you as soon as he was able, so as to not miss anything.

Finding out you were pregnant wasn’t a shock to either of you. Niki had brought up the idea one afternoon as you sat on the couch reading; you had never really considered having children, but the thought of little Nikis with curly hair running around opened a new desire within you. Going off the pill, you and Niki enjoyed yourselves, probably a bit too much, until the doctor confirmed your condition. Now, a year later you were almost ready to pop.

Gripping your rounded stomach, you groaned as the pain ebbed and flowed before stopping all together. The last few days you had been experiencing it sporadically. The doctor had informed you over the phone that it was just false labor and was very common at the end. Still, you didn’t want to worry Niki. You would tell him when he got back, you decided.

A sudden gush of fluid at your feet brought you back to the present. Quicker than was usual, another spasm wracked your abdomen. Oh. Your doctor assumed you had another 2 weeks before you would go into labor, but babies had a knack for doing what they wanted on their own time.

“Mum?” you yell out to your mother in the living room. You had taken her up on her offer to stay with you the last weeks of your pregnancy and birth. One breath in, one breath out.

“Alright, love?” she called from the other room.

“Mum, it’s time…”

Walking into the room she spotted the puddle at your feet. “Oh darling…” she gave you the happiest smile as she grasped your hands. “Let’s go have a baby!”

She busied herself grabbing the bag you had packed for the hospital and making sure everything was locked up and ready to go. Sitting at the kitchen table, you attempted to use a dishrag to dry your legs and feet. There was no way you could bend over to wipe the puddle of fluid off the ground, so you simply tossed the rag over it. Distracting yourself from the waves of contracting muscles, you pick up the phone to dial the number Niki had left you.

“Si?” It was Arturo that answered.

“Arturo - it's Catherine. Has the race started?” You do your best to keep your voice neutral.

“Mrs. Lauda! Ah, no. They will line up in about an hour.”

“We’ve been friends for years - how many times must I tell you, it’s just Catherine,” chuckling at his antics. Arturo gives a non-committed grunt in response.

You can hear the crowd and sounds of power tools and engines over the line. “Alright. Could you do me a favor - as soon as it’s over would you tell Niki I’ve gone into labor?” A groan escapes you as another contraction hits, stronger than before. “But only when it’s done.” You don’t need the father of your child being distracted as he hurls himself hundreds of miles an hour down a track.

“Oh! Si! Of course! Good luck, Mama Lauda!” Arturo was perhaps the biggest fan of your relationship with Niki - besides James and Elena, of course. The call ends shortly after that. Your mother carefully helps lower you into the car and you drive off to the hospital.

💛

Several hours pass. You’ve paced the floor, eaten ice chips, and tried to watch some silly soap opera on television. The gown makes you feel as though you are a blimp, adding to your frustrations. Hunching forward as another contraction rips through you, your knuckles white on the edge of the small table in the delivery room.

“They're getting closer, love. Shouldn't be long now.” Your mother rubs your back in comfort.

Still gripping the desk, you can feel the tears well up in your eyes. The pain is awful, but that’s not what causes the overwhelming emotion to take you. I need my husband. I need Niki. She notices as your shoulders begin to shake.

“My dear, what is it? What can I do?”

You sniffle, standing upright and facing her. “M’sorry mum… I just wish he was here is all.” Wiping your eyes you add “It’s silly. He’s off competing and I’m feeling selfish wishing he were here with me. I know he’ll come as soon as he can. Christ, I cry at the littlest things anymore...”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and holds you as close as she physically can, your bump between you. “I’m sure he’ll be here late tonight. They don’t typically let the husbands in during the birth anyways.”

A knock on the door startles you.

It’s Niki.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says casually as if he’s arrived at dinner after the designated time.

“What are you doing here?” The clock on the wall indicates that the race in Belgium would have only finished an hour ago at most. There’s no way he could’ve gotten here as quickly as he did, unless…

“My wife is having my child.” He steps into the room. “I overheard your call. Arturo is not good at keeping secrets. So I left.”

Your tears run anewed at his confession. Pulling him in by the front of his jacket, you bury your face in his chest. Tears of joy soak his shirt but he didn’t care.

Just as another major contraction hits the doctor enters the room. He instructs you to lay back as he examines you for the millionth time that day. With a nod he lets you know it’s time. Niki stays by your side.

💛

The birth is an otherworldly experience. You can’t say you have ever felt anything as excruciating or exhausting in your life. But when you look at Niki as he cradles his daughter in his arms you know you would do it all over again if it meant being able to see the look on his face. The look of pure adoration, of pure love.

He sits next to you on the little bed, his hip alongside yours. Niki’s eyes meet your own; they are tinged red. You smile. Brushing a finger against the soft curls on your daughter’s head you say “she has your hair.”

He hums and smirks. “As long as she has your personality. There’s only room for one arschloch Lauda in this world.” You can’t help but laugh.

Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7 @loliissmut

#beyond the checkered flag #swte scuttle buttle #scuttle-buttle #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl niki lauda #niki lauda rush 2013 #rush 2013 #niki lauda x reader #sleeping with the enemy #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda #daniel bruhl fanfiction #pregnancy fic

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pookalukaa · 4 years

Text

Paint Me

A Spencer Reid Fanfic

your friendly AroAce brings you a fanfic that is so self indulgent

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral Artist!Reader

Warnings: sexual innuendos but no actions further than kissing, and Spence is shirtless

Word Count: 1.9k

Your short nails grazed his goose-bumped covered back.

You envisioned what you would do to it as if it were the canvas that you usually painted, which were now forgotten, leaned against the wall of your living room.

You now sat on the floor with your boyfriend between your legs, with his back facing you.

You can feel his muscles tensing as you drag your hand along his back, no doubt was he thinking about something inappropriate.

But you were simply there to paint.

And Spencer had offered to be the canvas.

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

“paint on me?” he asked with puppy-like eyes

You were startled by his question. Did I mishear him?

You looked up from your sketchbook, coming up with ideas and thumbnails for your next exhibition, your large canvases were prepped and ready for paint

“you mean paint you?” you asked with a tilt of your head

You knew he probably said what he meant; the genius would not mess up his grammar that bad; but you needed to be sure.

In reality, you have always been interested in body painting, watching Skin Wars for hours, but never had a partner who brought it up; and you would never mention the interest

“I’ve painted you plenty, you’re my favorite model” you add with a wink

“If my favorite handsome model wants to pose like a French girl again, I have no problems with tha-” you continue, flirting before your rambling is cut off by your boyfriend cupping your face in his large, veiny hands, bringing his bottom lip to a pout

“you know that’s not what I meant silly” he answered with his pout becoming a playful smile, unconsciously licking his lips

You know he always did it without thinking but god, his habit of licking his lips when you got close was hot and you hated getting distracted by it

You tore your eyes away from his lips, wanting to tease him more

“Do I?” you ask with a faux confused face, tilting your head once more

“Maybe the doctor has to explain it and-” you stop, as Spencer licks his lips again, at the mention of you playfully calling him doctor

“-and the doctor should quit licking his lips before I act up” you say in a voice just above a whisper while looking at his lips

You look up immediately, regretting the words that you just said, cheeks no doubt turning to a deep red

Spencer looked surprised at first but quickly regained composure enough to lean closer to you, slowly licking his lips, when he knew you were looking at him

“what should I stop doing sweetheart?” he asked, narrowing his bright hazel eyes, never breaking eye contact

“sorry I did not mean to say that. I really don’t mind it at all. I know you do it unconsciously. It can just be really distracting at times. And its really hot sometimes so I just- I mean- it’s just-” you pause, stumbling on yours words, speaking too fast for your brain to even catch up on, similar to how the man in front of you rambles

Spencer just continues to look at you with all the adoration of the world, tilts his head, as you did before

“Do I?” he teases, echoing what you said before

Obviously teasing was only for one partner in this relationship you thought giggling

Spencer’s eyes softened at the sound of your giggle, it’s one of his favorite sounds, right after the way you moan his name

Now he craves his favorite sound, so he leans into you just a little more and plants a soft kiss on your lips

You smile into the kiss and can feel him doing the same when your eyes pop open and pulling back suddenly, placing your hands flat on his chest

Now he was really surprised, wondering if he did something wrong, he brought his hand to your upper arm, looking at you with worried eyes

“I want to paint on you” you quickly blurted

Just as he relaxed, realizing you had remembered the beginning of this conversation, and started to open his mouth to say something when you cut him off suddenly

“This has been something I have wanted to do forever! I’ve never had the guts to ask someone to be a model for me, but I’d love if I could paint you! It’d be so much fun, I even have paint for skin, so it won’t cause any rashes or anything!” you quickly ramble, so excited your practically vibrating, moving to stand up to gather the paints, but you stop in your tracks right when you were about to leave the living room of your apartment.

“At least…if you’re sure you wanna?” You ask with a shy glance

“It might take a while; I don’t want you to be uncomfy” you add

Spencer looks up at you with an excited smile (licking his lips again) reaching for your hand as he remained seated

“I would love nothing more sweetheart” he answered

With a hop in your step, your smile widens as you gather the paint from the other room

You rush back into the living room as you see Spencer unbuttoning his shirt, with his sweater vest discarded on the couch, neatly folded

You immediately blush a little at the sight but quickly regain composure; he’s your canvas for the day, he has to be blank

You think this as you leave your paints on the ground and walk up to him, placing your hands on his and undoing the rest of the buttons

Your hands fall on his chest as you motion the shirt off of him

You plant a quick but warm kiss on his soft lips as a thank you, and he received the message perfectly

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

That is how you ended up in this odd position with no sexual intent, even though your very good-looking boyfriend of a few years was sitting in front of you shirtless

You smacked your cheeks in frustration telling yourself to get into the zone

You look at naked models on the daily.

To be fair, none of them were your handsome genius boyfriend, but there is a certain headspace you get in when you’re doing your art, where nothing else is important than getting the sketch or painting done

Finally getting into the headspace that you needed, you placed your hand flat on Spencer’s back, feeling him quickly tense and relax under your touch

“Can I tie up your hair a bit?” you ask softly

“of course, love” he quickly replies

So, you get one of your clips that was on the table in the living room and loosely put up some of the longer strands, so it did not get messy with paint

“I’m going to start laying some paint down” you say softly, warning him

“It’s probably going to be a little cold, sorry” you add with a soft laugh

You know he’s smiling without having to see his face, “Go for it love”

You nod and lay down a light lilac color. It was one of your favorites on him, and though he would not admit it was his favorite color, you could see the smile that came to his lips every time you wore it or had a painting with it being the primary color

You did not know where you were going with this painting, but like your other ones, you never really did

You would always try to plan them out, but they always turned out a different way than you imagined

Instead of being discouraged, you loved the change, saying that if it happened that way, it was meant to be

You laid down a sunflower yellow along with the lilac, and an idea struck you

You had always been obsessed with flower language, with purple lilacs representing the pure first emotions of love and yellow sunflowers representing pure happiness, you knew exactly where you were taking this masterpiece on your masterpiece of a boyfriend

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

There were few words exchanged in the hours as you enjoyed each other’s warmth and the comfortable silence between you. Occasionally there would be a giggle from Spencer as your brush or hand grazed a ticklish spot, or you absentmindedly talking about how sexy his back was or how you loved certain colors on him.

You would then see his neck and ears turn a light pink, another color that looked absolutely stunning on his skin

Almost 2 hours pass by Spencer remaining still other than to get up and stretch his legs a bit carefully and to get some water

“Alright I’m almost done Spence” you sigh happily

He breathes in quickly, excited to see what you painted on him

He loved the close proximity you have been to him these past few hours; he had placed a hand on your left leg that was on one side of him and softly rubbed it, your thighs were one of his favorite spots of your body; he was always leaving kisses and the occasional bruise there.

You take a deep breath, looking over your work one more time

“I’m done!” you say almost a bit too loud for it being nearly midnight in your apartment with thin walls

Spencer turns around, excited and before he can say anything you cup his face in your hands and place an excited kiss on his lips, once again relaying your thanks

Spencer smiles into the kiss and once you break the kiss he smiles gently, “take a picture so I can see your masterpiece”

You immediately pull out your phone and take a picture of his face, now with a few smudges of paint from your hands and his brown curls messily around his face, with some part still in the hair clip and giggle at the sight of a messy Spencer

He looked at you with confusion, his smile still planted on his face

“You’re my masterpiece” you would normally cringe at that cheesy statement, but it fit so well, and you knew that picture would end up as your wallpaper soon after this anyway

He laughed, which was one of your favorite sounds, right after how he moaned your name

You put your hands on his shoulders and turned him around so you could take a proper picture of his back and instead of him turning around again to look at you, you stood up and sat down on his lap, his body conforming to cradle you and fit yours perfectly

“Look at it!” you motioned

It was a beautiful bouquet of flowers all over his back all pointing back to the pure feeling of love, adoration, passion and above all: happiness.

You knew Spencer had extensive knowledge of flowers with his eidetic memory and just by being around you and hearing your rambles about your new research

His grin deepens and you can see his eyes moving all over the picture, taking in every detail so he would remember it forever, even if he did not have his unbreakable memory

“It looks amazing love” he softly says, eyes not leaving the phone. He is now looking at the individual flowers, seeing all the different meanings and how you wanted to show your love and adoration

You swear you see him trying to hold back a tear, “I love you so much, I cannot believe I am dating someone as talented as you love” finally looking at you, cupping your face in his hands and giving you the passion that was in the flowers in a kiss

After staying in that comfortable position for a minute longer, you stand up, offering him a hand, “Alright it’s time for a shower babe, the paint is made for skin, but shouldn’t stay on too long; besides, I wanna go to bed”

“I’ll go to the shower as long as you’re with me” he instantly replies with a smirk

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, I gotta wash your back anyway” you reply

You both walk hand in hand to the shower, and you can look forward to the long shower and night after that.

Spencer Reid may be your masterpiece, but tonight he wanted to show you that you were his.

please let me know if you liked my first fic and if you would like a second (smut 👀) part or just more in general (i do love me some Hotch👀👀)

💕💕💕💕💕

also huge props to @spenciebabie for being a huge inspiration when it comes to this. take a look at their page (only 18+ please~) and their amazing writing, the community they've built on their page is adorable!!

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Hearth & Home

A/N: Hello friends and mainly my secret santa @marvel-and-mischief! Zoey, this is this for you and I hope you enjoy! It was so nice getting to know you and you are such a sweet, kind person. It’s not much, but I hope it brings a smile to your face and I hope you have a fantastic Christmas! Lots of love and hugs!

(disclaimer - this is my first time writing for Pero, please be gentle!)

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

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Snow was falling outside the window gently, coming down in soft, fat flakes. The ground was coated in it already, creating slick icy walkways and dusting the gardens you had so lovingly tended to in the spring and summer. The sudden cold front had come unexpectedly, neither of you had much time to prepare, so you decided to let it be. If come the new year and spring, the flowers decided not to make an appearance again, you would simply have to plant new ones. Things always worked out how they were supposed, even if it wasn’t the most conventional of ways. But you already knew that and had known that more some time.

Your husband was proof of that in himself.

Speaking of which, you paused as you were in the middle of washing the pots and pans, shaking the warm, soapy water from your hands as you looked outside and spied Pero tending to the animals. The sheep and goats followed him closely on his heels, which he always insisted he hated, but you knew he secretly enjoyed. He had a soft, gentle soul, even if the exterior did not match that whatsoever. A walking contradiction, a balance of rough and soft, but he was your everything.

Almost as if he could sense your eyes on him, Pero stopped petting the sheep at his side and turned to look in the window, a small smile stretching across his features, highlighting the singular dimple you loved you so much. Cocking an eyebrow in amusement, he waved at you as you responded in kind, feeling a flush of warmth wash over you. You’d called him your husband for several years now, but sometimes even the simplest of looks caused the heat to pool low in your belly and make you feel like a maiden again.

Before you got too wrapped up in your little daydream fantasies, you turned back to your dishes, grabbing a cloth to dry them. You enjoyed days like this, the ones that brought a chill and allowed you to light candles all over your small home, along with a big fire in the main living area. There was something so welcoming and cozy about it, that it caused your heart to settle and feel warmth and content. On top of all that, it gave Pero an excuse to remain at home as well, instead of going into town to work at the blacksmith shop. No one was going to need any sort of armor or equipment in this weather.

“Mi Sol,” the sound of his warm, gruff voice caught your attention as you turned to find him coming inside, taking off his overcoat and hanging in near the door. You stopped what you were doing and walked over to him, grinning at him as you brushed some of the slowly dissipating flakes out of his dark curls. He made a small, contented sound in the back of his throat as he keened into your touch.

“Pero, you must be freezing,” you touched his cheeks, flushed red from the cold along with his nose. Before he could argue or contest what you were saying, you pressed your lips to his. Despite being slightly dry and chapped from the wind and chill, his kiss was still soft and gentle. His hand went to the back of your neck as he held you close, taking his gentle time to kiss you. When you pulled back, your hands went to the lapel of his shirt as you pulled him further inside towards the hearth where the fire was merrily crackling away, “relax and get warm, my love. I’ll go and get you a sweater.”

“Thank you,” he nodded softly as he took a seat near the fire, letting out a long sigh as he relaxed and let himself comfortable. He was not a young man anymore, after long days of working his bones ached, particularly his back, and the cold weather wasn’t helping. Luckily he didn’t even have to say anything, you just knew. You knew you and you helped him without needing to be asked, causing a warmth to wash over him. He was not a man of many words of openly gentle displays of affection, but you never doubted his love or devotion to you.

Nor he with you. You easily had the choice of many men to agree to have as a husband, but you had chosen him. He hadn’t even been an option, not truly, but you still chose him; you were a steadfast, stubborn little thing, he had always claimed and you had definitely proven that to him and everyone when your engagement was to be announced to the public, and you shocked everyone and chose him. It hadn’t been an easy thing; not by any means.

Choosing Pero meant losing your family and everything you had known. The reckless mercenary and the lady of polite, gentile society - a juxtaposition in every way. You were meant to marry a man of wealth and taste - culture, everyone liked to call it. But you had known in your heart since your little love affair had started with Pero that he was the one for you and there was no one else. For a few while he had wondered if you would end up regretting your decision or loathing him, but you never did, you never once had even a single regret over choosing Pero. When it came down to you, you would have chosen him again and again, every single time.

Love was the end, you always insisted, despite what the world seemed to think.

You gruff, stoic mercenary agreed, even if he didn’t verbalize the statement.

“Here you are,” you returned quietly, warm padded feet shuffling quietly along the wooden floor. Pero pulled his gaze away from the fire and turned to you, a smile slowly covering his face. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you held out the sweater to him before moving to grab some more blankets for the two of you. Pero was silent, uncharacteristically so for him, as he watched you. Turning slowly, you met his dark eyes and gave him a curious look, “Pero? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promised as you lit a few more candles near the heath before joining him and sitting down on the soft couch, pulling the blanket over the two of you. Placing his arm around you, he held you close, breathing in the quiet comfort your presence provided, “are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeated as you pulled gave, a puzzled expression crossing your features. You had no idea where this was suddenly coming from, but you reached up and put a hand on his cheek, “of course I’m happy, my love. I am very happy. I hope nothing in my actions has done anything to cause you to believe otherwise.”

“Of course not,” he huffed lightly, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you want pull him into you then and there, to become whole and one with him. Taking your hand from his cheek, he brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, “sometimes I just wonder if this is enough for you. If I am enough for you.”

“You are many things, husband, including a silly man,” you laughed at him, setting his soul at ease as he relaxed at your words of reassurance, “I am happy, nothing could make me happier. And you? You are everything. I don’t want anyone - I could not even dream of it.”

“Not even-”

“Not even some governor, or lord, or anyone could make me as happy as you do,” you closed the small distance between your bodies, practically crawling into his lap, “Pero, I chose you then and I still choose you and I would always choose you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” any remainder of the tough exterior and façade he had melted away at your words. He held you close, pausing for just a moment before you decided to take matters into your own and kissed him. You were fully seated in his lap at his lap at this point, his large hands finding purchase on your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t often that the two of you that were able to enjoy the quiet silence of a winter’s afternoon or to take such solace in one another, knowing that neither of you had any duties to attend to you. Pero pulled back after a few moments, his hands wandering up your body and pausing and your face, “I know I do not say often, mi sol, but I do love you very much. You make me happier than I could have ever dreamed.”

“I know it to be true, sweet husband,” you beamed at him, shining as bright as the sun on a mid-summer’s day. He’d given you the surprisingly tender nickname shortly after you’d met by chance at the farmer’s market one early spring afternoon several years ago. You’d brightened his day and instilled a sense of hope into his heart, he had told you, just like the sun - mi sol, “you don’t always have to say it. I know you mean it.”

You nuzzled your nose against his, admiring his quiet beauty for a few moments, pressing your lips against his cheeks, forehead, nose, and stopping at his lips before wrestling him down on the couch so he was flat on his back.

“I love you,” you whispered softly before moving to straddle his waist, “now let me show you how much.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“It looks like the snow is starting to let up,” you commented as you opened the door to look outside, pulling your coat tighter around you. Gone was the harsh snowfall from the evening before, leaving everything covered in glittering white powder, but with a less harsh chill settling over everything. Pero came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “it looks beautiful out there.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” he commented as you playful sighed at him, “what do you say we go out and look for some holly and ivy today? We can decorate for the holiday properly.”

“Do you mean it?” you asked, eyes wide with excitement as you turned to him. He nodded as he moved to go and fetch your thick woolen outer coats and boots, “everything will look so lovely and festive! It is almost time to welcome the end of the year and halfway point of the winter.”

“Then we shall plan a big feast and everything to celebrate,” he grinned softly as your heart melted. He wasn’t normally a big fan of festivities, always going along with what you wanted to do, but never really having a preference one way or another. But this year, something in him had shifted and he seemed even more in the holiday spirit than he normally was….not that you were complaining at all. You loved to see him happy and smiling; despite all of his time with you and resigning himself to a quiet life, you knew things from his past life often still haunted him.

“I think that will be lovely,” you agreed as he held out your coat for you to slip into, followed up by him draping a warm scarf around your neck to keep you warm and toasty. You couldn’t help but grin as you buttoned up his coat, slapping his hands out of the way as you grabbed a scarf for him. He remained silent, watching you with reverence as fretted over him. When you were done, you took a step back and admired the handsome view that he provided, “there. All warm, Pero?”

“Wonderful,” he agreed as you opened the door again and stepped outside, holding your hand out for him to take. He wasted no time in enveloping your hand with his much larger one, smiling to himself as you swung your clasped hands together. He liked this - your humble little life, and getting to spend his days with you. It was nothing grand or overwhelming, but none of that mattered; all that mattered was you and love you shared.

“Pero?” you paused when you noticed that he was lagging behind, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he insisted as he caught up to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Humming under your breath, you finished setting up the rest of holly and ivy along the hearth, taking a moment to admire how it looked all around your small home. Even the small staircase leading to the second floor was covered with candles and greenery, casting a soft gentle glow around the whole place. It was nothing over the top or grandiose, but it was still beautiful and warm, and you loved it more than anything.

Standing on the stool under the doorway separating the kitchen from the living area, you carefully tacked up the mistletoe you had found. It was more for a small laugh, a fun little folly one of your friends had told you about, but you had still wanted to surprise Pero.

Just as you finished tacking it up, the front door opened and Pero came inside, immediately shaking out his hair to get the remainder of the snowflakes out. You were so startled by his sudden appearance that you stumbled slightly and almost fell off of the stool. Pero, ever the fighter and quick on his feet, was faster and at your side in just a second, catching you in his strong arms before anything could happen.

“Hello,” you grinned at him as he held you in his arms, a look of concern momentarily crossing his features. When he saw that you were okay, he relaxed, the rapid beating of his heart already slowing down as he set you on your feet. You leaned up and kissed his cheek, “thank you my love. You’re always my hero.”

“Are you alright, mi sol?” his hand found your face as he gave you the once over you and you nodded, “what were you even doing?”

“I was just putting up some mistletoe,” you pointed to the top of the doorway, watching as a look of confusion crossed your husband’s features. He reached up and touched it, giving it the once over as he brushed his fingers over the lush, dark green sprigs.

“Isn’t this poisonous?” he cocked an eyebrow as you nodded, “then why one earth…”

“It’s not for eating or anything,” you stated the obvious with a small laugh, “it’s for decoration. And besides, there’s a sort of tradition about it that I heard…”

“Pray tell, what could this so-called little tradition be?” he asked you as you pulled him closer by the lapels of his coat. He made a small sound of surprise as you let your lips linger near his.

“If two people are caught under it,” you explained, “you are supposed to kiss, and it is to bring good luck if you do and then bad luck if you fail to do so.”

“Ahh,” he laughed lightly as you nodded, “what an odd little thing. I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I hadn’t either,” you admitted, “another one of the ladies in the village told me about it today and gifted the mistletoe to us. I figured it might seem silly, but there’s not harm in trying, right? Besides that, I don’t quite fancy setting ourselves up with bad luck.”

“I definitely do not want to do that either,” his lips brushed yours as they quirked up in a small smile, “what do you propose we do about it?”

“I think you should kiss me, dear husband,” you suggested with coaxing, eager eyes, “and if it should please you, you can do even more than that.”

“I would not be opposed to either,” he put his hand on either side of your face as he offered you a gentle peck, leaving you hanging on for more, “how lucky I am to call you my wife, mi sol.”

“I love you, Pero,” you promised him, “you and only you.”

“And I you.”

“But now I really do need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me,” you insisted, “and then some.”

“As you wish.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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wherethewordsare · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather- Mutual Pining for Jay’s 400 Follower Bingo!!

He’d found it after a movie night, draped over the back of the couch. He held it up to confirm and yep. There was no mistaking the hood and the bulky black sleeves. It looked like it may have gone through the dryer about twelve times too many and the zipper pull was barely hanging on. He let his thumb rub against the hem of the sleeve, shaking his head. Jaskier tucked the hoodie under his arm as he pulled out his phone, smiling to himself.

geralt

u left ur hoodie

its cold and everything how do u forget that

ur worse than ciri smh

Just hold onto it, I’ll grab it next time.

And I am not worse than Ciri. I’m not the one who’s left his phone in the Denny’s bathroom at 2am…. Twice…

Last month.

shhhhh :P

Throwing his phone down, Jaskier went to his closet. He was going to just hang up the hoodie and Geralt would get it eventually. Honestly, he was going to put it away. But then he pressed his face into the shoulder and sighed.

This was wrong. He should just hang it up and return it when they saw each other again. He wasn’t about to let this silly little infatuation with Geralt ruin a perfectly good friendship. Especially not over a stupid hoodie.

Unfortunately, Jaskier's self restraint had taken the night off. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier was sliding his arms in, zipping up the front and crawling into bed. One night of indulging wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Even if it felt like his chest was splitting open. He shifted a little under the covers, burying his nose into the collar as he drifted off to sleep. They had been through so much together since they met in high school, wasn’t Jaskier allowed this one little thing, just this once?

-o-O-o-

i still have ur hoodie

u want it back cause we could like meet up for coffee

we could go to the nag :)

He snapped a picture of the hoodie and a travel mug in his passenger seat, sending it off.

Can’t today. :(

Parent teacher meetings and then Dad wants us to help him fix the roof.

I could use my hoodie today, it’s cold…

omgl finally

thought id have to do it

Jask… no.

:/ fine then

see if i try to be helpful again

jk jk

dont die

I dont wanna do handywork :3

Geralt had been right. It was cold, and Jaskier had forgotten his own jacket at home. He frowned down at the hoodie and sighed. It was only because it was chilly. Nothing else. He tried to ignore how it still smelled so strongly of Geralt. He walked around the gallery wrapped in Geralt’s hoodie, the front unzipped and his hands buried in the sleeves.

-o-O-o-

hehe crispy leaf time

the cold is coming

Yes, Jaskier. That’s how seasons work

u know what that means~

Geralt did not in fact, know what that meant but he soon found out. He was in the middle of typing when a picture came up with the caption “stolen hoodie weather :3” with Jaskier curled up on his couch at home, snuggled up in the black zip up hoodie Geralt only remembered leaving there early last Spring.

Something in his stomach flipped and he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Why? Why would it matter if someone saw him? It was just Jaskier.

He frowned and started typing again. He stopped and erased it, fighting down the small smile that was starting to tilt the corners of his mouth.

You kept it?

Way to go, Geralt. That was really fucking smooth. What was he supposed to mean by that?

unlike u :(((

abandoner of hoodies

some of us appreciate the gift of comfort geralt

Geralt felt like his brain was melting. That thing in his stomach seemed to purr with satisfaction at the idea of Jaskier wearing his hoodie. It was petty and ridiculous and oh no, Geralt couldn't take his eyes off the way the black material framed Jaskier's collarbone.

No. No no. This way lay madness, he told himself. He would simply get the hoodie back and that was that.

hey when do u wanna do our next movie night

its been like

7099039 years

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He had never hesitated when it came to Jaskier. They had known each other for far too long.

Sure. My turn to pick?

not if u choose a history documentary

Spy movie?

:0 promise?

yes pls

Should I bring wine?

Wait, no that would be a very bad idea.

:) you know it

bring the good shit

eskels secret one

i know you can find it

It’s called “google” Jaskier. Even I know that. And I will see what I can do.

same time and place as normal right

It’s a date.

Geralt felt as though his soul had left his body when he had hit send. Had he lost his entire mind? He was in the middle of typing a follow up, trying to word the best way to dismiss his complete and total departure from sanity when the little dots popped up then disappeared then popped up again.

It’s a date. :)

Jaskier nearly slammed the door back into Geralt’s face in shock. Geralt was standing in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, movie and carry out in the other. Then there was the shirt. Jaskier had actually helped him pick it out. The black button up, the sleeves rolled up and was his hair actually combed back? He looked good. Jaskier swallowed hard. He looked really damn good.

But that wasn’t even the weird part. No, the weird part was the way Geralt’s eyes widened when he had opened the door. He recovered quickly though, nodding at Jaskier as he stepped in.

“Didn’t think you’d let the apartment be cold enough you’d need to wear a hoodie.” He smirked, setting the bag down on the table before going right into the kitchen.

“Comfort, Geralt. I’m telling you, I just don’t think you appreciate it enough.” Jaskier followed him in. It was routine for them, the way Geralt got the wine open, Jaskier grabbed plates and silverware; the way they bickered and snarked, barely suppressing laughs through barbs.

-o-O-o-

The coffee table was littered with cartons of orange chicken and fried noodles. Geralt set his plate down as he leaned back, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. He had to smile at the sense of deja vu that struck him. Casino Royale wasn’t just a comfort movie for them. It had been their first movie night nearly fifteen years ago.

By now, they could practically quote the entire thing, make quips at Bond’s smugness and only just sit through that one scene without wincing. At least that’s what they told themselves.

Now they watched as Bond and Vesper reconnect outside of that fancy English rehab center. Jaskier chorused him as they both rolled their eyes and sighed at Bond’s shitty lines about little fingers.

“God he’s the worst.” Jaskier took a sip of wine, making a gagging sound.

“Quantum still exists.” he chuckled.

“Valid!” Jaskier set his wine down.

Geralt leaned over as Bond delivered his next line, syncing his tone and dropping into a soft gravelly murmur.

“Whatever I am, I’m yours.” It was supposed to be cheesy and ridiculous but Geralt found that it felt far too honest. There was truth to them that he couldn’t think to deny now.

Jaskier nearly choked as he looked up, his eyes going wide. Geralt watched as he leaned into his personal space. Time felt like it stuttered to a halt in that moment, Jaskier inches from him, still draped in his hoodie. Geralt wet his lips anxiously. The tension between them felt like a powerline pulled too tight; everything seemed to crackle with it.

“Geralt-”

Whatever he was going to say was lost the second Geralt closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. It was nearly magnetic and there was no pulling away. Geralt’s hands strayed down to Jaskier’s thighs without his realizing it. There was no way he could stop himself now. He’d wanted this for far too long to just let it go. Part of him would mourn the loss of his oldest friendship, but that was Tomorrow Geralt’s problem.

Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Geralt tugged Jaskier into his lap clumsily.

Geralt had to break the kiss first, pulling back gasping for air and pressing their foreheads together.

“Jask… Wait. Wait,” Geralt choked. He had to tilt his head back to get his words out as Jaskier dipped back in to start kissing him again. “Shit. Jaskier…” He already sounded wrecked to his own ears. His hands were on Jaskier’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his sides as he looked up, eyes searching. “Are you sure you want this?”

He needed to hear it. He needed to know he was allowed to have this. It was one thing to say it would be Tomorrow Geralt’s problem, but it was another to actively throw away the best friendship he had ever had. He had spent too long pretending they could be just friends for it to fall apart like this.

Jaskier crowded in closer and it took everything in him not to just give in to it because fuck that felt amazing. There was an easy smile across his lips that made Geralt feel like he was starving.

“Geralt, I swear to the gods, don’t you dare start questioning this now,” as open as his face was, his voice trembled slightly. It was then that Geralt realized that Jaskier was practically vibrating under his palms. It was instinct the way he wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for at least a solid decade.”

Geralt blinked hard as he gaped up at Jaskier.

“Are you really that surprised, Geralt?” Jaskier hummed, leaning back down and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” He found himself chuckling, trying to breathe around the bubble of light that was threatening to fill his entire chest. He caught Jaskier’s mouth again, his hand coming up to slide into his hair, holding him close.

It was hard to tell who had deepened the kiss further but the laughter died on his tongue when he felt Jaskier roll his hips down into his lap. Suddenly everything was too much and achingly not enough. The hoodie slipped down Jaskier’s shoulders and what little attention span Geralt had left zeroed into that same spot along Jaskier’s collarbone.

Pulling Jaskier closer, he made a trail of graceless open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the firm column of his neck, his teeth raking over the spot with careless abandon. He was rewarded with a soft keen and Jaskier squirming in his arms. Long dexterous fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as his own found their way up the back of Jaskier’s shirt.

“Geralt-” There was a tug in his hair and fuck shit yes. He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Jaskier chuckle fondly. “Geralt, as much as I am enjoying this,” he gasped, back arching as Geralt nipped just below his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

There was no arguing with that tone nor could he bring himself to find anything to argue about. Geralt tilted his head back up, Jaskier’s lips crushing in against his, taking every last remaining shred of doubt away. He felt his body switch to autopilot as he scooped Jaskier up from under his thighs, pleased at the way his legs wrapped around him automatically. He carried him easily, stopping only for a moment to pin Jaskier to the wall to adjust his grip under him, long enough to flick the lights off.

Jaskier snorted, pulling away. “So considerate.” He teased. Geralt gave him a playful swat on his thigh and the chuckling was cut off by one of those delicious keening noises.

Geralt half stumbled, half marched to where he knew Jaskier’s bedroom to be, blindly pushing the door open with his foot. He let himself bask in the heat of Jaskier’s body pressed to his, taking his bottom lip and biting it.

The reality of where he was came crashing down on him and time was doing that thing again, slowing down as someone else with his hands kneeled against the side of the bed, letting them both tumble back into ridiculously lavish sheets. Years of habitual teasing were only tamped down by Jaskier’s insistent fingers making quick work of the buttons on the front of Geralt’s shirt.

“You just had to wear this one, didn’t you.” Apparently not everyone was so distracted not to tease. “Do you know how hard it was not to just pull you into my apartment and kiss that ridiculous face of yours?”

Geralt gave a wry smile. “Do you know how hard it’s been for fifteen years, being your best friend and thinking I would never get to kiss that beautiful face of yours?”

He had to bite the inside of his lip as Jaskier’s whole face and neck flushed brilliant pink in the low light.

“Geralt!” he practically whined and Geralt couldn’t stop from laughing softly at that, bending back down to kiss him again. He decided he couldn’t help himself, not really.

This was too good. If he could just bottle this moment and tuck it away for every rainy day for the rest of his life, he would.

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you now.” Geralt hummed happily. He shifted, the hand under Jaskier’s thigh moving to tug his hips flush with Geralt’s as his other hand moved to cup his face. “As long as you’re okay with that.”

Geralt was pretty sure they were too far gone to ever go back, but even now, he had to make sure.

“Geralt Roger Eric…” Jaskier groused. “If you do not come back down here and kiss-” his words were muffled by Geralt’s mouth, his tongue sliding over Jaskier’s bottom lip and swallowing whatever ridiculous threats may have been lobbed at him.

He found that kissing Jaskier had been easier than breathing. Before he knew it, Geralt was pulling back to pull off his shirt but his hands froze. He cursed under what breath he had left because the view of Jaskier under him, lips kiss bruised and shining, the needy look in his eyes, and the way his hair was pushed in every direction nearly undid Geralt completely.

He snapped back to work, stripping out of his shirt and pushing at his jeans, letting them slide away.

“C'mere you gorgeous thing.” Geralt murmured softly, pulling Jaskier to him before rolling, his back pressed up against the headboard.

Jaskier shimmied out of his own jeans before straddling Geralt’s thighs, letting his fingers trail up the planes of Geralt’s chest, a stray fingernail grazing over his nipple, making him groan. Jaskier only grinned, leaning in, and nipping at Geralt’s neck.

All Geralt could do was groan and tilt his head back, his hands sliding over Jaskier’s back. He was just aware enough to realize when Jaskier started to work his way down his body. Looking down, he watched in complete awe as nimble fingers hooked into his boxers.

The first touch of Jaskier’s mouth to the jut of Geralt’s hip had his blood singing and he could only drop his head back against the wall. He hadn’t realized how achingly hard he was until Jaskier was biting down gently on Geralt’s upper thigh making him jump.

There was a low chuckle from somewhere around his groin and then there was a sharp tug on his boxers. Jaskier wasted no time getting a hand around Geralt’s cock while he still playfully nipped at Geralt’s hip and thigh and abs. This was how he was going to die, he thought absently as he let his hand move to the back of Jaskier’s head. He let his fingers tangle there, tugging gently and Jaskier seemed to get the message though he could feel the smirk against his inner thigh.

The weight of Jaskier between his thighs, one hand sliding up Geralt’s torso as the other stroked him lightly left Geralt breathless, his eyes fluttering at every touch. But it was when Jaskier wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock that Geralt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bucked his hips instinctively into the hot slick of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop himself.

For long moments, all Geralt could do was hold on. Jaskier took him slowly, seeming to savor the newly found ground between them as he bobbed further and further until Geralt was nudging the back of his throat. He gasped, his back arching when Jaskier swallowed around him, his responding hum a little too self satisfied.

Geralt tightened his grip in Jaskier’s hair only slightly, tugging him up. It was messy and Jaskier’s mouth was open and slick, his eyes glazed slightly with a need that left Geralt breathless. He looked debauched and it was honestly the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen.

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling Jaskier back into his lap, his hips stuttering to grind up against Jaskier’s thigh.

Jaskier pressed in close, panting slightly as he broke a kiss that had been more teeth than anything, leaning his forehead to Geralt’s. “Mm, fuck. We- Ah,” He chuckled as Geralt dipped in to kiss him again, dodging away gracefully. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips , taking a shaky breath. “Want you to-”

Geralt was already nodding. He would agree to anything Jaskier asked for but the way his hips ground down against Geralt’s lap, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. He wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s middle, rolling them gently until Jaskier was under him his knees still bracketed around Geralt’s thighs as he arched and keened.

“Under the notebook in the-” Jaskier breathed his hands not leaving Geralt’s skin for a moment, fingers greedily mapping out the lines of his back.

“I know, you haven’t changed your hiding place since college,” Geralt teased. To his surprise Jaskier snorted under him, his head tilting back in the pillows as he laughed. It left the column of his neck exposed to Geralt and he couldn’t help himself but lean down and bite small marks into it. He was rewarded by more delicious noises endlessly streaming from Jaskier.

He pulled away only for the time it would take to retrieve the lube before sliding back down into Jaskier’s arms and kissing him thoroughly. His hands traveled down Jaskier’s bare chest, his fingers brushing along the top of his boxers and he gave a low huff into Jaskier’s mouth.

“Why are these still on?” he grumbled, smirking when Jaskier rolled his eyes at him.

“Someone’s been slacking in getting me undressed,” Jaskier shot back.

TheirThere next kiss was a mess of chuckles and grins. Geralt shifted them again, moving to get Jaskier’s boxers down. The laughter died in Jaskier’s throat when Geralt’s fingers brushed low down his back and grazed over the swell of his ass, he buried his face into Geralt’s neck. Geralt didn’t tease for long before pulling away. It made Jaskier groan and nip at his neck until slick fingers returned to his entrance, circling slowly.

“Fuck!” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking back greedily.

Geralt quietly cursed himself for letting so much time get away from him as he slowly worked Jaskier open, enjoying the way he shivered and babbled under him with every push of his fingers. When he slipped a third finger in, Jaskier bucked under him, his eyes slamming shut as he gave a shout.

“Geralt! Fuck, dear heart, please, for the love of all that is good-” he pleaded, his hips rocking back onto Geralt’s fingers eagerly. “If you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to combust.”

Geralt leaned down, muffling the rest of the curses that were probably coming with a hard kiss. Jaskier arched under him as he pulled his hands away. It was easy after that, letting their bodies slot together and letting himself slide into Jaskier’s tight warmth. It felt like a gut punch. It felt like coming home.

Jaskier wound his legs around his waist, hands reaching up to thread into Geralt’s hair as he rolled his hips, taking Geralt deeper, causing them both to groan.

“Jask.” Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s shoulder panting as he started a steady pace. Soon only the sound of their heavy breathing and Jaskier’s soft moans filled the room around them.

Time around them seemed to hold still as Jaskier tugged gently on Geralt’s hair, prying him away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. The look Geralt found there left the world spinning. Jaskier’s eyes were bright and his smile warm even as his cheeks flushed. He was pliant and open and completely wrecked and the sight of him tugged at Geralt’s chest. The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his hips slowly rolling into Jaskier as they moved.

“I love you, Julek,” he murmured as he kissed him slowly.

Jaskier whined under him, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When they finally broke apart to gasp for air, Jaskier's eyes were searching his as he bit his lip around a low moan. He huffed a wet sounding laugh as a hand slid from Geralt’s hair to rest on his cheek, a well calloused thumb tracing along his chin. “Oh, dear heart,” he shifted, canting his hips to make Geralt move. The angle shifted and Geralt seemed to nudge right against where Jaskier needed him most as he arched from the mattress and groaned.

Geralt pushed up to sit, pulling Jaskier up with him until he was in his lap. They rocked together, shuddering every time Geralt bottomed out. He gripped Jaskier’s hip tightly with one hand as his other slid between them, wrapping around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pushed up into his hand, swaying between his grip and his cock, they both seemed drunk on it. It was only a matter of time after that that Jaskier was crying out, Geralt’s name tumbling from his lips, his orgasm tearing through him like a whirlwind and Geralt could do nothing but hold onto him.

Geralt steadied him, his hand holding Jaskier still as he thrust up into him, reveling in the small fucked out noises Jaskier whimpered into his neck before he too was shaking apart, spilling into Jaskier with a low satisfied rumble.

They kissed again, lazy and sated, their chests a mess with Jaskier’s spend. He broke the kiss first, pulling back with that smile that always left Geralt feeling dazed.

“I love you, too. I love-” he didn’t get to finish because Geralt was pressing him down into the mattress again with a hard kiss, smiling.

He was allowed. Everything that had happened seemed to catch up with him but instead of the sheer panic he had been expecting, the only thing that wrapped around him in that moment was the bright light that was Jaskier’s answering laugh.

Everything was sore but in that pleasant kind of way after a good lay. Jaskier rolled over, pressing his nose into the pillow beside him. He smiled when he realized it still smelled like Geralt.

Geralt. Fuck!

His hand reached out before he let himself open his eyes, wincing against the bright morning light that streamed in through his windows. The space beside him was empty.

But… Geralt had said it first? Where-? Jaskier’s heart sank, his throat tightening. He knew it was too good to be true. The moment Geralt had kissed him on the couch, he had pushed down every part of him that had screamed that he was going to end up hurt by time the sun came.

He reached for his phone though he didn’t know who he was going to text. Essi wouldn’t even be awake yet on a Saturday. The space by his lamp was also empty. He realized he must have left his phone in the living room the night before when-

He tried not to think about how easily Geralt had lifted him up and carried him to bed. He had tried not to think about how there were now bruises on his hips that were shaped like Geralt’s hands or the trail of stinging bites that he would have to carry around his empty apartment for days. He pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes and groaned.

“Idiot,” he berated himself.

“Cause you left your phone in the living room and now it’s dead?” Geralt asked, pushing the door open with his foot. He was in a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and nothing else carrying in two cups of coffee. He looked up from where he had been concentrating, trying not to spill them. “What?”

“You’re here,” Jaskier chuckled. Something in his chest lifted and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“I… yes?” Geralt looked around. There was a lovely mark in the shape of Jaskier’s mouth on his shoulder and it made Jaskier’s toes curl. Geralt looked at the space beside Jaskier then at his face. He made a little oh with his mouth before he started to shake his head. “Oh! I see, hmm.” He set the coffee down gently on the side table and slid back into bed and into Jaskier’s arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“So we’re…” Jaskier looked away, rubbing his palms over his covered thighs. “We’re okay?” He didn’t dare hope. Not just yet. Not in the bright light of day.

“Well, that depends,” Geralt chuckled, pulling him into his lap easily. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s chin. “Yenn messaged. Something about brunch. I think they know. Are you okay with that?”

Jaskier snorted, leaning over to grab his coffee. “Essi. I told her it was just movie night. I tell her it’s just movie night every time and-” He realized what he was saying, the cup of coffee hovering just at his lips. He looked sideways at Geralt who was tilting his head and smirking.

“The biggest gossip we know and that’s the one you decide to confide in?” He took the cup from Jaskier’s hands and set it down again before rolling them both to pin Jaskier under him.

Jaskier squawked indignity, his arms wrapping around Geralt. He let himself be kissed and hummed happily when Geralt slotted easily back between his thighs.

“We’re going to be late for brunch,” he sighed as Geralt’s hand slipped down to his thigh, fingers brushing gently over the marks from the night before.

“Hmm, don’t care.”

They ended up missing brunch altogether but neither seemed to mind.

---

The weather was crisp and dry and Jaskier was bundled in the black hoodie, but now pressed against Geralt’s side as they walked into Magnolia’s. It had been easier than Geralt was expecting though he groaned as he watched several fairly large wads of cash exchange hands.

“Pay up, Jask,” Essi grinned.

“What?” Geralt turned, scowling. Jaskier gave a chagrined shrug as he handed over money. “So little faith?” Geralt teased.

“You too, pretty boy!” Lambert smirked across the table.

Jaskier gasped beside him, leaning away “So little faith, Geralt?” The sleeves of the hoodie fell over his wrists and Geralt only smiled, pulling him back against his side.

“I don’t mind being wrong this time.”

#geraskier #modern au #fluff and smut #friends to lovers #jays 400 follower celebration #jay writes #mind the tags on this one yall #it's spicy #and soft

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 13 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer finally meets Reader’s roommate while the two prepare for a picnic. After Spencer lectures Reader on the dangers of the outdoors, the two face a different kind of danger at the bank.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Gun violence mention Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Although I’d been inside (Y/n)’s apartment several times now, I couldn’t say I’d ever actually looked much at my surroundings. It felt strange to admit that, mostly because I felt like I was doing something wrong; like I was a traitor to my job.

But then again, it felt worse to try to profile her. The few times I had made it obvious, she had made it very clear it was unappreciated. I could understand why.

So, before we even got to her door, I tried to quiet the voices screaming in my head, telling me to look for clues to all the unknowns about her. It wasn’t because I was expecting her to be hiding anything; I just wanted to know everything about her.

I could simply wait for her to tell me, though. We had all the time in the world, right?

“Laura, I’m home!” She called out immediately after breaching the entrance, following the exclamation with a very hurried request. “Spencer is here so please don’t be weird!”

The response was a calm, steady series of footfalls down the hall. The girl stuck her head around the corner, peeking at the two of us with a devilish grin.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Reid.”

I told myself I probably shouldn’t be this nervous. If she was friends with (y/n), she was most likely a decent person. But let’s just say women around that age had never been particularly kind to me. They brought to the surface a lot of memories I’d tried very hard to bury.

She didn’t put her hand out to shake, which told me they’d already probably talked about me more than I’d have liked. ‘Wait,’ I thought to myself, ‘Is it okay to profile her roommate?’

“I’m going to go get a basket together. Wait in the living room, my kitchen is a disaster.”

Before I could argue, she had already disappeared, leaving me stranded in the hallway with her roommate who looked ready to cause trouble. I just hoped it wouldn’t the kind that revolved around me.

She waved a hand in front of her, motioning for me to make my way into the living room. Once we were there, she immediately took a seat, but I remained standing. Felt better to be able to escape.

The silence was awkward and suffocating. I could feel her staring at me, but she wasn’t saying anything. It felt wrong to look back.

“She says you read people for a living.” Her voice had a hint of skepticism in it I’d grown used to. “Sounds kind of like what psychics say.”

“Yeah, we use a lot of the same strategies, too. They just aren’t as honest about it as we are.”

“What do you see here?”

That was what got me to turn around and face her. She looked so comfortable, curled up on the couch.

“Pardon me?” The question caught me off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. I’d heard it so many times.

“What does our apartment say about us?” She asked, clearly not understanding why it was an inappropriate thing to ask. Or more likely, just didn’t care. Curiosity is a powerful thing.

I cleared my throat before looking back away and saying, “I agreed not to profile (y/n).”

“Well, can you at least tell which stuff is hers?”

I’m sure she was just checking to see if I was legitimate or just scamming her. Maybe she was checking to see if I was too good at it.

She didn’t need to worry. (Y/n) could handle herself. She wasn’t tricked easily. In fact, most of my intrigue and concern surrounding her unknowns was just how good she was at hiding things.

It wasn’t until I had registered that question and was staring at her walls with a newfound sense of purpose, that I realized how little I knew about her past. Then again, I don’t really care about her past.

It had made her who she was today, and that was the woman I loved.

My fingers brushed over old, cracked plastic on DVD cases displayed on a shelf beside the console center.

I didn’t even notice I was smiling at first, realizing that she’d kept the physical cases despite all the streaming services. She clearly still used the discs, too.

“These... are hers.”

“How can you tell?” The response in the form of a question told me I was right, and only made me feel even more deeply. Despite my greatest efforts to not look so excited by something so silly, I turned back around with my lips still curled in an awkward smile.

“Educated guess. Adrenaline.”

“What?” The confusion in her voice reminded me that she wasn’t aware of one of my deepest personality flaws.

“Research shows that only about 10% of the population are so called ‘adrenaline junkies,’ people who enjoy roller coasters and horror movies. It’s more often men than women, but it’s hard to tell because of the way we’re socialized.”

If I had turned around to face her, I probably would have seen the dead stare she was giving me during my rant.

“Regardless, people tend to either love horror or hate it. So, I considered the fact that (y/n) seems to enjoy things like... sneaking into bars with fake IDs and… other risky behavior.”

Well, that was close.

“But what really gave it away was the fact they’re not dusty, which means they’re still being used despite all of these movies being available on streaming services I know for a fact she uses. Considering how patient she is with my own Luddite tendencies I just figur—“

“Wow.”

The word cut off my train of thought, and I realized that I had barely breathed since I’d started. Wincing in response to the dumbfounded look on the poor girl’s face, I gave a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” she said with her own little pity laugh. I’m sure (y/n) had told her enough about me that this wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“I do that when I’m nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” she said like it was the easiest advice in the world, “You’re right about her, you know.”

Staring down at my feet, I wondered why the confirmation from her roommate meant so much to me. I hadn’t been actively trying to figure out things about my girlfriend — it felt wrong. But for whatever reason, knowing I had the ability to figure it out meant more when it was about her.

Laura laughed again, craning her neck to look around the corner before she quietly spoke. “She says it was the other way around, but she’s the one who convinced me to streak the lawn.”

Ah, the age-old tradition of UVA students. It was so easy to picture her stripping down to nothing in the dead of the night to prance down the length of manicured grass. My own personal little pixie.

If it was just an attempt to calm my nerves, it was working. Putting the focus back on (y/n) was a surefire way to bring out the best in me. She just had that effect on me.

“I am entirely unsurprised by this information,” I said before walking over to the other side of the room, noting the distinct lack of pictures of family among the shelves that clearly belonged to her.

Don’t read into it, I told myself, she might just keep them somewhere else.

“She also drank an entire water bottle of vodka during a full day of classes one time, just because I bet that she wouldn’t.”

I scoffed at the image of her drunk. It’d been a while since I’d seen her like that, and both times had been remarkably unique. She’s a dead giveaway; I was surprised she hadn’t been caught.

“I can’t say I relate to that,” I sadly admitted. Sometimes it was hard to realize that if I’d known her at the same age, we probably wouldn’t have gotten along. I used to hate people like that.

Granted, they had usually also hated me.

“She did mention you were a genius or something. I kind of figured. That’s her type.”

Well, that was information I couldn’t just gloss over. I furrowed my brow with a disbelieving smile, finally looking at the girl who was avidly watching my every move.

“Is it? I always pictured her with someone with more… Kinaesthetic intelligence.”

She gave me that look people give me when I said something weird, but continued nonetheless, “I don’t really know what that means, but she takes school pretty seriously. Honestly, probably a little too much. Part of why I dared her.”

“It’s strange to imagine her in class.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. And I was glad I couldn’t, because I was very curious about the answer.

“She’s the girl who knows all the answers and shuts down all the stupid guys trying to talk over her.”

I knew that those behaviors weren’t exactly favored in classrooms, having myself been the one at the brunt end of the bullying that followed.

“It’s pretty impressive.” She was being genuine when she spoke, and I was inclined to agree. At the same time the thought crossed my mind, I found a picture of her perched on the lap of the Thomas Jefferson statute.

God, I loved that girl.

“I bet she is.”

Almost on call, (y/n) poked her head into the room with wary eyes, looking at me as I awkwardly waved before looking back to her roommate.

“Laura, are you being weird?”

The girl rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to me like it was my question to answer. Afraid to spoil any tenuous, newly formed loyalties, I shook my head no.

“Okay…” She only barely accepted my answer, “But if you say some dumb shit and get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

Briefly sticking out her tongue as she walked past me, she continued on her way. I couldn’t help but give that lovestruck, idiotic grin I always gave when she was around. If you’d told me I would’ve ever felt like this about someone who felt the same about me, I wouldn’t have believed you. Part of me still didn’t believe she could ever love me the same as I loved her.

Turning back to the girl cringing at the blatant intimacy shared in a simple glance, I immediately became awkward again.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring my handcuffs.” I joked, showing my hands in a strange display of innocence.

She… took a different approach.

“I know for a fact she has a few pairs in her room if you need one.”

A high-pitched whine nearly escaped my throat at the casual mention, and I cleared my throat and turned to look at her with a very unconvincing laugh. “W-what?”

“You have to know it’s impossible for her to keep her sex life a secret,” she droned with a bored expression, “I live one room over.”

“Right,” I nodded.

There was an extended, never ending silence as she just let me stew in my own discomfort. It didn’t seem to bother her one bit, because the longer I avoided her eyes the more she seemed to smile.

“I’m uncomfortable.” I finally admitted, and she just shook her head, running her hand through her hair before giving me one final hard look.

“You’re sweet. You make her happy. I appreciate that.”

My mouth scrunched in a humble half-smile, my hands finding their way back into my pockets as I tried to consider the reality I’d found myself in. Of all the infinite possibilities, I got to exist in the version of the world where I loved a girl who loved me back.

“It’s all her,” I finally said with a voice that crackled far too much for my liking, “I don’t do anything. I’m just the lucky one she decides to keep around.”

Laura flashed an approving grin, but then got up when she heard the familiar, happy feet beating down the hallway. (Y/n) burst out from around the corner, her arms full with a picnic basket and a blanket she clearly owned for just these occasions.

“Ready to go, babe?”

“Lead the way.”

I’d have followed her anywhere.

—————————————————

It was the perfect time of year for a picnic, despite Spencer’s insistence that there was no such thing. Once we were in the park, his whining dramatically decreased. Maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was the smile on my face, but he was certainly in brighter spirits.

He even let me rest my head on his lap, his legs crossed underneath me while he alternated between staring off at the trees slowly losing their color to autumn and my quiet contentment as I nibbled on an assortment of fruits.

There was no awkward silence or hidden darkness in this day, and even the sweetest strawberry couldn’t be more refreshing. To be here with Spencer, soaking in the late Summer sun, was all I could ever ask for.

But I was also eager to take advantage of the uncharacteristic softness between us. It wasn’t often we could share moments like this. Between his job and all our problems over the past few months, I wasn’t sure when we could be like this again.

“Let’s talk about something fun.” I blurted out, earning an intrigued look from my boyfriend. He readjusted his position, leaning back on his hands so he could look down at me easier.

“Okay, like what?”

“Don’t make fun of me…” The way he was looking at me gave me no hope he would actually listen to me, but I continued anyway, “I have conversation starters I looked up.”

He snorted while trying to suppress his chuckle. “Of course you do.”

Dropping my mouth open, I reached up to lightly smack him on the face for immediately doing exactly what I had asked him not to.

“What? Like you’re the epitome of sociable, Dr. Reid?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop the laughter that kept bubbling in his chest over something that was decidedly not that funny at all. We were just that stupid kind of happy where everything was wonderful.

“I’m just not surprised!” He reminded, then nodded for me to continue, “Go on, tell me one.”

“Tell me something you’re scared of.” I shot back, excited to hear the answer.

“The dark.” It was the most anticlimactic, stereotypical answer I could have imagined. It was my turn to scoff now, hardly believing the answer to be real.

“Seriously? You’re an FBI Agent, Spencer.”

“You told me not to make fun of you, but then you make fun of me? Unfair. I didn’t sign up for this scrutiny.” His legs started to move under me as he pretended like he was about to dump me from his lap and leave me here.

“Fine!” I shouted, reaching my hands up to grab his face. Although they fumbled awkwardly from my strange position, he took the time to lean to the side and kiss my palm lightly. “Favorite memory of the two of us.”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes squinted like they always did when he was in deep contemplation. But something told me something actually jumped straight to his mind, but he was holding it back for some other reason.

“That’s not fair. There are too many.”

I wasn’t falling for it. I flicked his nose before pulling my hand back, smiling at the way he jerked away like it actually hurt him. Giant baby.

“No cop out answers, old man. Favorite one!”

Spencer just sighed, letting his head fall back as he actually thought about what he was about to say for once in his life. I took the brief moment without his scrutiny to reflect on just how lucky I was to be able to see him like this.

“Okay. So, remember when we went to the bakery in Downtown?” He asked like I could have forgotten.

“Pauls? Yes, I remember.”

They’re legends in the area, but a total pain to try and get. You have to get there first thing in the morning and wait in a ridiculous line. But they were always worth it. Spencer had told me he’d never been, and I just couldn’t let such an injustice stand.

“While we were waiting in that ridiculous line, I remember looking at you and just seeing how excited you were for a donut, even at 7 in the morning.”

“That’s objectively the best time for a donut.” I interrupted with the most matter-of-fact tone I could emulate.

“Right,” he laughed, recalling how I kept reminding him of that fact while in line, “Well, we got to the front and before I could even talk, you had already ordered one for me.”

It took me a second to remember exactly what had happened. So much had happened since then, the memories were becoming muddled in my mind. But once I did remember, I smiled.

“Chocolate frosted with sprinkles. For the child in us all.”

“That’s it.” His voice had gotten soft so quickly, his hand brushing over my cheek while he played with the strands of hair blowing back over my face. “That’s my favorite memory.”

If I didn’t make a joke of it soon, I was scared my heart would burst.

“Really? That’s your favorite memory? Of all things?” I asked with a playful grin, clasping both of my hands around his and holding it against my chest.

“Yes.” For a man of so many words, it meant so much more when he spoke so little. You could feel the truth in the way the sound hit your ears.

Even as I bit on the inside of my cheeks to withhold my excited giggle, he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Spencer, that’s so lame.”

In that way he always did, he so charmingly replied, “How fitting for us.”

“Rude,” I muttered, finally finding the strength to sit up from my position on his lap. The world only spun for a second as I reoriented myself. He seemed equally grateful, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“What else do you want to make fun of me for?” Spencer said with a smile, watching as I reached into the small basket and pulled out a small clementine. I ran through the questions in my head, trying to decide which one to spend our limited time on.

“Okay,” I decided, “What did you think the first time you saw me?”

His face scrunched up with the leftover embarrassment from our very first meeting, during which the first thing he had ever done to me was lie. It had been a flattering one, though.

As I popped a section of the small citrus fruit into my mouth, I noticed the way he licked his own lips. The sight caused butterflies to flurry in my stomach, and I wondered which was more appealing to him; the mouthwatering scent of oranges or the idea of slipping something else between my lips.

“I thought... that you were beautiful and intriguing. And I was right.”

I got my answer to my preceding thought, because he had quickly wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss with crushing force. For someone who wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, he certainly didn’t mind kissing me like this.

Despite how deep and hard it was, it ended far too quickly. I sucked on my bottom lip as he left, staring up at him with wonder and devoted attention.

“Why was I intriguing?”

He clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead, probably hoping that the kiss alone would distract me from asking any more questions about that night. Unable to get out of it now, though, he just shrugged with a nervous chuckle, “You... were looking at me?”

My laugh, on the other hand, was full bodied as I pushed him away from me with just enough force that he actually almost toppled over.

“That was it? Because I looked at you?”

It seemed so silly, but I could tell by the way he responded that he meant it. He had told me before, on that night actually, that he wasn’t used to women showing him attention. But surely, he must just be missing it. He was an amazing man.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about you.” He paused between his words, taking a deep breath before attempting to work through his thoughts, “Like... like things just revolve around you. You have this intense gravitational pull that just told me that I had to get closer to you or I wouldn’t be able to survive.”

Fighting back the blush quickly forming on my cheeks, I struggled to maintain my typical aloof nature. I couldn’t have him getting a swelled head just because he could string together a couple cute sentences.

“Are you calling me a star, Dr. Reid?”

“I guess I am, yeah.” He hit me back with that confidence he rarely displayed outside of our play. I loved to see it like this. It made me feel like I was actually with him, rather than any manicured person he’d created to suit the needs of the current situation.

“If you felt that strongly about it, then why lie and say you weren’t checking me out? I could’ve left, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, but I thought about it.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. There had been a couple of times during that night that I almost cut my losses—admitted that we were just too different to ever be compatible. Thank god I’d ignored that flawed instinct.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. Have you looked at your boyfriend? I’m so weird.”

The ease with which he flouted his eccentricities brought a smile to my face, and I shook my head as I tried to fight back in his defense. “You’re not that weird.”

“Are you joking? Look at yourself. You’re—You’re normalcy personified! No, actually, you’re not even that. You’re this... beautiful, smart, talented young girl and I’m just an old man who’s hoping to keep you around long enough that you forget you have better options out there.”

The longer he spoke, the more my jaw dropped open. Eventually, I had devolved into a fit of laughter.

“Dr. Reid, you can’t seriously be telling me that you think I am out of your league!”

“I mean—!” he started, but I wasn’t going to allow him to even entertain the thought. I clapped my hand over his mouth, nearly climbing onto his lap to hush any noises he attempted to make.

“No way!” I shouted, “Shut up!”

Instead of trying to wrench my hand away, his hands came to rest on my hips. I could feel the smile spreading across his cheeks under my fingers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Spencer. Fucking FBI Agent with three PhDs. Get out of here.”

He began bouncing his leg under me, and when I looked down to see what he was doing, I was shocked to feel a wetness on my palm. Ripping my hand away, I looked at my hand to see the swipe of saliva over the skin.

“Did you just fucking lick me?!” I screeched, unable to comprehend what had just happened, staring at my boyfriend with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I touched the ground with this hand! What are you doing?!”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to rinse my mouth with bleach when we get home. But it was worth it, to see that look on your face.”

He went to wipe his own face, but I still couldn’t get over the fact my hand was fucking wet. So I took my hand once more, wiping the residue of his own spit back over his cheek. Surprisingly, he just let me do it, laughing as he only slightly tilted his head back.

“Nasty old pervert,” I joked, rolling my body off him and sitting on own once more.

“You’re very mean when you’re nice to me.” Spencer pouted.

I was distracted, trying to get my hair to stay out of my face and mouth as the wind started to whip through the park. Still, I managed to say a few very important words of warning.

“Yeah, well, get used to it, bud.”

Taking pity on my obvious distress, he reached out to grab my arm, tugging me back over to him. “Come here, little girl.” he instructed while I crawled over on all fours to sit between his legs.

I was going to ask him what he was planning when I felt his hands begin threading through my hair. I sat patiently, recognizing the pattern he was weaving.

“... When did you learn how to braid hair? Did your mom teach you?”

“My mom has short hair.” It was an evasive, but truthful answer, so I didn’t press it. I was sure I would find out more about his family as time went on. I just had to keep reminding myself that we had all the time in the world to get to know each other.

“I never learned how to braid hair specifically. I’m just applying the same pattern I would with a knot or a puzzle.”

“How romantic.” I gasped, tucking my hands between my legs as I enjoyed the way it felt for him to play with my hair.

It was always bizarre, to consider the way he could be so soft in moments like this. Or rather, that he could be so far the opposite at other times. In my heart, he was always the kind, goofy man I had met that night at the bar.

But I’d seen him angry, depressed, and in pain. I’d seen him desperate and scared. Basically, the only way I hadn’t seen Spencer Reid was however he was at work. Part of me wished that I could; it was obvious he was good at it and, to a certain degree, enjoyed it.

Then again, when I know he does things like get shot at, it makes it a little bit harder to be interested in. I couldn’t imagine getting that phone call one day while they loaded him into the back of an ambulance... or worse.

“Ah, the things I do for love.” His calm, smooth voice tore me from the destructive thoughts and back into his warm embrace.

“Hey, Spencer, I have a serious question.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.” He joked, holding out his hand for my hair tie, which I happily gave him. I hated to admit that he did a better job at braiding my hair than I’d ever done. Freaking stupid genius stuff.

“When do I get to say it back?”

I swear, I felt a chill spread through the air between us. His entire body froze, his hands stuck mixed with the elastic as he tied off the braid.

It was an intense, unwelcome flashback to the second night I’d spent with him, when we had talked about things too serious, too soon.

Terrified, I immediately cut off anything he might have been able to say, muttering, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Letting my hair slip from his fingers, he let his hand drag along my spine. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I didn’t dare turn around.

“I’m sorry.” He said after another moment of silence, and it physically pained me the way the words fell from his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” I said in the cheeriest tone possible, trying to lighten the mood, “I just wanted to test the waters.”

With that, I spun around dramatically, noting the way his face lit up once it saw the smile on my own. “And they are frozen solid!”

He laughed at the enthusiasm I displayed, swiftly throwing his arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Well, I’ll just have to warm you up, then.” My whole body in his arms, he yanked me off the ground and onto himself. I struggled playfully under his arms, not paying any attention to the other people in the park watching our childish antics.

“Hypothermia is very dangerous, after all,” he lectured, “Let me take your temperature.” Burying his face in my neck, I felt the familiar overstimulation that accompanied frantic, light touches of my sides.

“Stop!” I burst with laughter, “You’re tickling me!”

The movements all halted, but only to be followed with a terrifyingly devious tone of Spencer’s voice. “You’re ticklish?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I love this information.” And just like that, he began his onslaught. His fingers danced over every inch of my sides, his lips pressing quick, frenzied kisses against the underside of my chin. The harder I laughed, the more he continued.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I screeched like a banshee, trying to slip from his hands or turn around—anything to get the upper hand again.

After nearly wrestling him, I managed to get both hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the blanket. The force with which we hit the ground knocked the air from his lungs, and he groaned at my body weight on his chest.

“Okay, okay! You win!” He yelled, holding his hands in front of me while struggling not to touch the ground with his head. “I’m not risking more surface area of contact with the ground to fight you.”

“(Y/n) emerges victorious!” I grabbed hold of both of his hands, shaking his arms with all my leftover adrenaline while I cheered myself on.

“Dork,” he muttered under his breath before he grabbed my sides, laughing at the way I instinctually jerked. I threw myself off of him to avoid the potential tickles, landing clumsily next to him. And Spencer, being the genius, recognized it as the perfect opportunity to pin me against the ground.

Wasting no time, he pressed the same instruments which had begun the great tickle war against my own lips. My hands found their way to his cheeks, pulling him closer as his tongue easily found mine. Just like it always did with us, it felt like the world was disappearing around us.

All I could feel, smell, taste, think, was Spencer Reid. His love and admiration flowed from him with ease, and I was happy to take it in. After a few minutes, we had to break apart. We might like a little bit of exhibitionism, but I was pretty sure neither of us actually wanted to tear the other’s clothes off in a park.

Could you imagine if people knew he was an FBI Agent? I was sure they already thought our age gap strange. But I didn’t care what they thought. Because right now, we were happy.

“I’m the dork you love, though.” I whispered against his lips.

“Indubitably,” he mumbled back, starting to laugh at the way the word sounded in our teenage love-like delirium.

“Now who’s the dork.” I teased as I smoothed my hands over his shoulders.

“Hm. Still you. And a little bit me, too.”

Laughter was bursting from me again.

“You have grass in your hair, idiot.” Before he could do anything about it, my hands were all over it, ruffling his hair wildly out of place. He just squeezed his eyes shut, letting me ruin any semblance of maturity or control from his appearance.

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” I chirped, accepting the small peck he gave me before he started to retreat from his spot above me.

“You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, just about,” he sighed like it was a terrible thing to do. He hadn’t even wanted to come on this picnic!

“I promised to check you for ticks, after all.”

Ah, the real thing we were both looking forward to. Although, I was sure he was going to take it way too seriously for a few minutes before we devolve into sex on the bathroom floor.

“Mmm. I’m thrilled.” I replied honestly, struggling to sit up now that my body had already slipped into Spencer Reid is on Top of You mode. It was one of those rare moments when I wondered if there really was a female version of blue balls, because I was almost certain I had it.

“I have to stop at the bank first, though. I’ll go throw this stuff in the car and we can just walk over.”

“Sure thing, old man.” I huffed as I stood up, holding the much lighter basket while he collected the blanket. Once he took it all from me, I glanced over at the nearby bench with a pout.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re cute,” he smiled, kissing my cheek like it were a more serious goodbye, “I’ll be right back.”

While I waited for him, I cautiously watched the large, dark clouds rolling over the horizon. They threatened to swallow the sunshine that we’d basked in less than hour before. I tried not to think anything of it.

It wasn’t a metaphor; it wasn’t an omen. It was just the weather.

Spencer must have seen the anxiety, because when he came back, he gingerly placed his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my chin.

“I guess we have good timing. It looks like it’s about to storm.” I absently spoke, my eyes still fixed on the sky.

“Yeah, typical finicky Virginia weather, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it in his voice or made it up, but I swore Spencer was also trying to stop himself from thinking something of the rain. I was probably just being paranoid. It was just a storm. They happened.

“Well, let’s get going so you can cash your check in person like an eighty year old man.” I joked, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards the exit to the park.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. There are other people my age who don’t trust cell phone banking transactions.”

“Are there, though?”

He just shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth it to get into it with me. Typical young kids, he must have thought, so irresponsible. But he didn’t say it, just held my hand on the short, quiet walk to the ornate building on the corner of two busy streets.

I swung our hands dramatically back and forth, earning an unamused, but still playful, glare from him.

“Your age is showing,” he pointed out before licking his lips and avoiding my eyes. I glared right back before responding, “Your stick-in-the-mud-ness is showing.”

“Not a word. Not a phrase. Not a thing.”

He stopped our hands dead in their tracks as he crossed the threshold, and for a second, I thought he was going to seriously be a spoilsport. But right when I least expected it, he swung our hands again and I nearly smacked into another person.

We both laughed, with me blurting out a frantic, “I’m sorry!”

“So immature,” he chastised, shaking his head with disapproval.

“I can’t believe you. You are such an asshole!”

The familiar hum and beeping of the metal detectors threatened to dislodge memories from the back of my mind, and I shook my head to try to get rid of them again. Spencer glanced over with concern but didn’t mention it.

I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk about it. Once we had passed security, he settled into the line like he’d done it a million times before. But me, being a normal person who used my banking app to cash checks, felt strangely out of place.

Figuring it might be a minute, and that the ride home would be significantly longer, I decided to go get any residual dirt and grass out of my hair. After all, it would get in the way of our tick searching activities.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.” I pointed an accusing finger at him as my arm slipped from around his. His hand followed me until he couldn’t hold on any longer, an innocent, lovesick smile on his face.

“You know I could never leave you behind.”

As cheesy as it was, it still made me smile. My heart ached with the saccharine sweetness of his affections. I’d gotten so used to them so fast; I couldn’t even imagine a world without them anymore.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.”

“You know I will, little girl.”

That storm cloud feeling was brewing in my chest again as I pressed a kiss to my fingers, blowing it across the ever-growing distance between us. Why did he feel so far away so suddenly?

I tried not to pay it any mind, humming You Are My Sunshine and imagining Spencer’s terrible singing voice instead. Looking at my reflection, I realized why my cheeks had been getting sore. Because there, staring back at me, was a smile on a neutral face.

I don’t even know when it happened, but it hit me in that bathroom of a bank at 12:47pm on a Saturday that I had fallen madly in love with Spencer Reid. And it suddenly made sense, why he didn’t want me to say it yet. Because I hadn’t realized it yet.

But now I had, and it filled every cell in my body. The blush on my cheeks was evidence of just how much I needed to let it out, to scream it from the rooftops, or at least in the lobby of this old bank.

There were so few things that could overwhelm the emotions I was feeling and rob me of this moment. My brain rioted against any sign of darkness or despair, clinging to the hope that I would be able to tell him soon.

So, when explosive booms rang through the bank, for a long second, I tried to convince myself they were thunder.

But they weren’t. The storm had indeed come, but it wasn’t responsible for the sounds that caused my heart to tear in two and shatter against the floor. The people outside the room were not screaming at the wrath of God, displayed with lightwork in the sky.

It was not thunder.

They were gunshots.

—————————————————

| Part 14 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #reid request #spencer reid request #fluff #h2m

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happyandticklish · 4 years

Text

I Want To See You Smile - Part One

Notes: I decided to write something for the Gorillaz fandom, because I have fallen suddenly back into obsession over the band and needed to get it out of my system. I also would like to add that the fic holds some problematic themes concerning abuse, and that I am both aware of these themes and am working through them carefully. That being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After a fateful encounter one day, Murdoc finds himself addicted to tickling his bandmate and doesn’t know why. 2D’s adorable reactions certainly aren’t helping.

Murdoc wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. His face was flushed, his head was spinning, his heart was jackhammering wildly in his chest; all this from a chance encounter in the living room.

Maybe he was dying. He would have preferred that, honestly, to whatever the fuck this was.

He had discovered 2D’s body sprawled out lazily on their beaten up couch, gangly limbs thrown haphazard over its surface. In one of Murdoc’s hands was a bottle of something toxic he had just conjured up in the kitchen and in the other a journal in which he had planned to write either lyrics or obscene drawings in—he hadn’t quite decided which. Still, he couldn’t do either with the blue-haired idiot dozing off and claiming all the available seating space.

“Hey,” he said, slanting his eyes down in annoyance. “Dents. Move it.”

2D mumbled something indistinguishable in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t move. Murdoc frowned. He must really be out of it. Still, Murdoc had a mission and he wasn’t about to give up on it now. He leaned down, gripping his sides for a handhold as he attempted to shove him off. As he did, however, 2D shifted and squirmed under his touch, one hand unconsciously coming down to shove his hand away. Murdoc ignored him, readjusting his grip and tugging at his limp form. This time 2D let out a sleepy giggle, swatting at his hands once more.

“Stop,” he muttered incoherently. “It tickles.”

Murdoc’s eyes widened with realization. Ah. So that’s why he’d been acting so weird. He started to move his hands away, when an idea occurred to him—another way to get him to move. He smirked, keeping his hands on hips and squeezing with more purpose this time.

“C’mon 2D,” he teased in a low whisper. “I need to get on this couch.”

2D was moving more now, soft, breathy laughs echoing from his vocal chords, still not fully awake yet. If he was this ticklish asleep, Murdoc couldn’t imagine what he would be like awake. He squeezed again and again, poking and prodding at this one spot on his hips that had 2D spazzing. Finally, 2D’s eyes fluttered open and his frown of confusion quickly turned into a silly grin at the sensations dancing upon his skin.

“M-Muhuds?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “W-Whahat are yohou d-dohoing?”

“Getting you to move.”

“C-Cohouldn’t yohou h-hahave juhuhust ahahasked mehehe?”

“Eh. This was more fun.”

2D groaned sleepily, tired giggles slipping out unwarranted. That one spot on his hips, pursued relentlessly, was quickly becoming unbearable and his hands came down again to shove Murdoc off. Unfortunately, his grip wasn’t strong enough and he held onto Murdoc’s wrists uselessly. “Hehehe, ahaha, muhuhuds!”

“Hmm?”

“Ihihit—” 2D broke off, the tickling spiking suddenly and prompting a squeak from the man. “Ihihit tihihickles!”

“Does it now?” Murdoc teased, scratching his nails against the soft divot of skin contained there. “Well that’s quite an unfortunate situation, isn’t it?”

“Ah! Ohohohokay, ohohokay, I’ll mohohove!” 2D agreed eagerly, shoving desperately at his hands.

“Nah, I think it’s a bit too late for that now.” Murdoc hoisted a leg over him on the couch so he was no effectively straddling the other. “I’m having too much fun to stop now, and I think you need to learn your lesson about listening right away.”

“Buhuhut yohou dihihidn’t ahahask—ahaha, nohohoho, ehehe, stahahap!”

2D fell into quick hysterics as Murdoc began ruthlessly pursuing his hips now, one hand on either side. 2D scrabbled fruitlessly to shove his hands off and when that failed he resorted to frantic squirming and writhing underneath him instead. “Wow, dents,” he muttered with a sarcastic leer. “I didn’t realize you were this sensitive. I’ll have to remember this for the future.”

“Stahaha—ahaha, ehehe, nohoho! Ihihi tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuch!” 2D’s laughter soon became a breathless stream of giggles, interspersed with hiccups here and there as he fought to control his body’s reactions. As Murdoc watched him, a strange flush began to creep its way up his neck and his stomach writhed with unexplained nerves. This was different from all those times he had tormented 2D in the past. This was something new and altogether unnerving, and Murdoc didn’t like it one bit. But even as he was tempted to stop, the sight of 2D begging and laughing under him was too appealing to quit now.

“You know, I distinctly remember Noodle being veeeery ticklish here when she was younger.” Murdoc secured one of his wrists in his hands, dragging it far above his head. “I wonder if it’s the same for you.”

2D’s eyes widened and his struggling increased, giggling apprehensively as Murdoc’s fingers wiggled towards his defenseless pit.

“No, no, please, wait, no mohoHOHOHohore!”

2D shrieked when his fingers finally made contact, tugging frantically at his trapped arm. The other arm did its best to try to fend Murdoc off, but he would simply switch to a different spot until 2D moved to protect there instead; the second he did, however, Murdoc would simply move back to his underarms and the cycle would repeat once more.

Red-faced, writhing and babbling out incoherent pleas, 2D was quite a sight. Murdoc found himself so caught up in it that he hadn’t realized how intense he had gotten until 2D let out a frantic shriek and finally pulled his arm free. The sound snapped Murdoc out of his haze and he quickly rolled off the other, head spinning.

2D curled up on the couch, residual laughter spilling from his lips as he fought to regain some semblance of coherency. He gripped his torso protectively, skin tingling from the overload of sensation. “Hah… ha… ehehe… w-whahat was that?”

Murdoc had no answer, only that he needed to leave for fear of tickle jumping the poor man again. So instead he merely grunted, snatching up his alcohol and journal and stalking out the doorway, trying with everything in him to get the image of 2D in that helpless, strangely appealing state out of his head. 2D watched him go, confusion and leftover bliss swirling over his features.

Murdoc would have been happy to write that moment off as a one-off mess-up, a momentary lapse in judgement, had it not happened again after that. And again. And again. Every time he saw 2D, which was often when the band was squished together as it was, all he could think about was digging his fingers into his sides if only to hear that adorable yelp again.

His excuses were getting weaker as time went on, as well. “Wait, no, please!” 2D pleaded, noticing the fateful smirk on the other’s face as he backed him up against the wall. He had messed up some lyric or another during rehearsal, which at this point was all the justification Murdoc needed. The others looked on in confusion as 2d quickly fell into hysterics, Murdoc pinning him against the wall with his onslaught of tickling.

“Guhuhuys!” 2d cried, giggling wildly as Murdoc poked fingers rapid-fire into his sides. “Hehehelp m-mehehe!”

“Hey Murdoc, don’t you think we should leave him alone now?” Noodle asked hesitantly. “It wasn’t really his fault—we all mess up lyrics from time to time.”

“Lyrics?” Murdoc snapped, before remembering his original reasoning for the attack. “Yeah, well, this way he’ll learn not to do it again.”

Noodle frowned but otherwise did little to help him. It wasn’t until Russel placed a hand on his shoulder that Murdoc finally backed off. “We should probably get back to practice,” he said firmly, a warning note to his voice. Murdoc scoffed, releasing the other and letting 2D crumple to the ground in a trembling ball of nerves.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, sitting back down and picking up the bass. “Let’s just get this damn song over with already.”

For every grievance imaginable, throughout the course of that strange and confusing month, 2D would find himself reduced to a squirming mess of limbs at the hands of none other than Murdoc Niccals—spent too long in the shower, called him a name, wasn’t fast enough when Murdoc asked him to get out of the way, finished the last of the potato crisps. Small, unpreventable things that ultimately Murdoc only cared about because it provided such ample excuse to wreck the other.

Over the course of that month, Murdoc also spent sufficient time trying to figure out the reason for his growing obsession. Each time he thought about it, however, a hot blush crept up his neck and a world of voices screamed at him inwardly what are you doing? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it meant, nor why it was only tickling 2D in this way that made him feel like this. He hadn’t ever experienced anything like this in the past. Sure, he had teased and poked a couple of the girls and guys he’d dated in the past, but it was always quick, fleeting touches that ended almost instantly—just something to get a reaction. Now though, it was clearly something different. The sight of 2D shrieking and writhing under him made his body react in a way that was altogether different from how you would with your platonic bandmate whom you despised.

One night he got so fed up thinking about it that he decided to give up on sleep and head out to the kitchen to make himself something to take the edge off.

Who should he find but the man of the hour himself, the blue-haired bean pole, standing at the sink and pouring himself a glass of water.

As soon as he noticed Murdoc’s presence behind him 2D startled, quickly shutting off the faucet and edging away from him. “Oh hey, muds,” he greeted, that nervous, finnicky smile already taking over his features. Murdoc jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing up so late?” he grumbled, shoving past him and reaching for the various bottles of liquor littered over their countertop.

“Just getting a glass of water,” he replied cautiously. Murdoc simply grunted in response. Watching him cautiously, 2D continued to slink towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, however, hand on the doorframe. He curled his fingers in hesitation, before quickly whirling around to face the other once more.

“Aren’t you gonna…” 2D started before breaking off his sentence, clearly embarrassed.

Murdoc turned to face him, tossing back a glass of tequila—definitely not midnight appropriate, especially when he had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for rehearsal. “Aren’t I gonna what?”

“You know…” 2D trailed off, blushing, before awkwardly wiggling his fingers a little as a demonstration.

That same, creeping red returned to his face and Murdoc stiffened. Still, he wasn’t about to let the little upstart get the upper hand, so he said, leaning back on the counter with fake confidence, “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No, but, I mean, not entirely—” 2D stopped himself, clearly thrown for a loop. “I just meant that usually you… you know, do that. Are you… not going to anymore?”

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to Murdoc that 2D would pick up on this recurring habit of his. To have it stated so bluntly was certainly a shock to his system. The two stood in that tiny kitchen, an uncomfortable energy in the air as the silence between them increased. Murdoc tongued the inside of his cheek, debating how to phrase his next sentence.

Before he could, 2D spoke up for him. “I don’t… uh, I don’t mind, that is.” He spoke cautiously, waiting for Murdoc to snap at him or throw something. When he did neither, 2d continued, “I prefer it, over the other stuff. Also it’s… it’s sort of fun, in a way.”

Murdoc slowly sat down his liquor bottle, narrowing his eyes at the other. “Are you saying you like it when I tickle you?”

2D shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Sort of? I mean, it gets sort of intense sometimes, but even that’s, uh—” He pressed his lips together, evidently deciding that whatever he would have said next would only make the situation worse. “I liked it, yeah. Whenever you’re, you know, tickling me, I sort of get the feeling that you like doing it. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me and that’s… nice.”

Murdoc stared at him. The confession was so brutally honest in a way that only 2D could ever pull off. For some reason, that made him angry. He took a couple steps forward and 2D instinctively scuttled backwards. “Listen. I don’t tickle you because I ‘like spending time with you’, or whatever it is you’re going on about. I was doing it because—” he broke off, sneering at his own verbal incompetence. The real reason, the reason why he couldn’t get the image of 2D laughing, 2D happy, out of his head for weeks on end, floated at the edges of his consciousness. He chose to ignore it, as he did most things that made him uncomfortable. “I did it because I fucking wanted to, alright? And it has nothing to do with you or any kind of bond you think we’ve built. I do what I like, and your job is to shut the fuck up and leave me be, got it?”

2D matched his intense glare, face darkening. Where before there had been fear in his face, now there was only resignation. “Yeah. Got it.”

He snatched his water off the table, nearly fumbling and dropping it. Luckily, he managed to catch it just in time, though not without some leftover embarrassment. His drink retrieved and his smooth exit ruined, he proceeded to stalk moodily out of the kitchen.

The second he was gone Murdoc exhaled shakily, all the fight going out of his limbs. He leaned back against the counter for support, slowly sinking down to the ground. The cold linoleum felt good against his bare skin, and he chose in that moment to forget about all the crumbs and grime most likely littering the floor.

He rubbed his heels against his temples, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head like some kind of broken record player. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me… It was stupid. Murdoc had never cared about the other man’s opinion before.

So why did those words make him feel like crying?

#tickle fic #gorillaz #murdoc niccals #stuart pot #2D #2doc #fanfiction #fanfic #bands #noodle #russel hobbs #tickling

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Between the Stars [Pt.3]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N: Each chapter is a month since steve has been gone as a reminder because this chapter does pick up the morning after Bucky arrived home. Big thanks to my pizza love @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. As always for this series, flashback are italicized. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. Remember not to judge everyone too harshly till all the secrets come out. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“What’s missin’ in here?”

Bucky stood in the living room, surveying the 420 square feet, coffee in hand, and squinting. You were both tired even after finishing off a pot of coffee between the two of you. Last night ended much like it started; in tears. You weren’t sure how long you cried or how long Bucky held you. There was a lot you needed to get off your chest, a weight you let Bucky carry for a few hours. This morning the burden was back resting heavily on your heart. It was your hardship to carry after all, not Bucky’s.

He had his own you suspected.

You stayed quiet as you watched his eyes move around the open floor plan, glancing from the dining to the living room. His eyes flicked along the bookcases lining the staircase, the tan leather sectional, and the two cream color chairs that Steve hated. You had a massive fight over those chairs, a real knock-down-drag-out. Steve didn’t want them. “Why would we buy white furniture when we are going to have kids? They will be covered in stains.” You had argued they weren’t white, they were cream. Things only escalated when you told him you wouldn’t have kids for a few more years anyway, and by then, they would be old enough that a few stains from sticky hands would be okay. Steve had thought kids would come along much sooner, it seemed. You simply couldn’t see how that would work while he was enlisted, and he thought the two of you could get through anything together; lack of communication and assumptions. Steve slept on the couch that night. If only you could go back and say sorry, beg him to come back to bed instead of being stubborn and staying mad to prove a point.

What you would give to be able to go back and relive it all again, even the bad moments because they always turned into the next good ones.

Bucky took a step towards the empty space by the front window, the sound of his boots on the hardwood made your heart clench. It was hard to miss now. The whole room looked uneven, looked off. Bucky spun back around to face you and asked gently, voice barely above a whisper, “What happened to your piano?”

You’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop since Bucky showed up yesterday evening; he spotted the change faster than Sam had.

“I sold it.”

Bucky didn’t move or make a sound at your admission. His face stayed impassive, and after a few moments of silence, he simply nodded. The subject was dropped. Sam had flipped his lid when he saw that you had really gone through with selling it, “You loved playing! You shouldn’t be making big decisions like that right now, ones you might regret later.” You didn’t understand why Sam was so shocked, you made it clear that you were done with that life. It didn’t bother you, so it shouldn’t worry Sam. At least, Bucky didn't care. Perhaps he was only better at hiding it; if Bucky was disappointed in you, he made no outward show of it.

“What plans do you have today?”

You regarded Bucky with a blank stare over your steaming mug and shrugged a shoulder. You couldn't remember the last time you made plans or filled your day with something over than hiding away in your house. Over the previous two months, your days have consisted of avoiding everyone that you could and staying locked in the safety of the walls you built with Steve. It was the one place no one could judge you for still loving your husband.

“All right. All right.” Bucky blew out a breath and rested his elbows on the kitchen counter, immediately going into fix-it mode. “Here’s what I was thinkin’ for today--”

You couldn’t help but take in the way Bucky was leaning against the white stone as he talked about the plans he had in mind for the day, what he thought the two of you should try to accomplish today, but you weren’t listening. It wasn’t that you were actively trying to ignore him, but there was something about his hair cut that short, and the way he was watching you as he spoke made you think of times that had long since past. When you were just a bunch of kids with no idea how the world worked or what it meant to be in love.

“Hey, Trouble.”

The deep voice calling you made you jump, you turned to see who the culprit was and narrowed your eyes when you saw Bucky holding back his chuckle. The scowl you were giving him looked menacing enough to scare most men off, but it only made the hold Bucky had on his laughter break. You dug an elbow into his ribs, and the groan that slipped from his lips was for your benefit, you were sure. Stupid cute boy. Bucky leaned against the railing, resting on his elbows and doing everything he could to keep his eyes focused on the water rippling under the wood beneath your feet.

You weren’t sure what reasons Bucky had when he came looking for you because he was actively avoiding meeting your gaze now that he was by your side.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, soft and unsure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled at the sincerity in his voice. Bucky rarely let himself be soft and vulnerable when everyone was gathered together like this, in party mode, but that was the side of him you saw more often than not; a secret piece of Bucky only you got to see.

“It’s okay. I’ve seen one too many horror movies. I feel like Jason is going to come up out of the lake or something,” you said with a shiver and instinctively slid closer to Bucky, letting your arms brush against his. This time you only glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and he was grinning as if he found something so funny about the situation the two of you were in.

He wouldn’t find it funny when a swamp monster trudged through the mud and ate you both.

Bucky leaned his head towards your, still eyeing that same dumb piece of wood bobbing in the rough motions of the lake, the proximity of his lips to your ear made your skin tingle, and he whispered in your ear, “I’ll protect you, Y/n. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

You turned to face him, and he finally pulled his attention away from that ugly log so he could stare into your eyes. How could they look so blue when it was this dark outside? You swallowed the lump in your throat, worrying your already reddened lip between your teeth and whispered so softly you were scared he wouldn’t hear you, and you wouldn’t find the courage to repeat it.

“Always saving me. How’d I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Buck?”

You have no idea why you said that. It was so stupid! Yes, you were friends, and if you kept saying things like that, things would stay that way. At this rate, you were never going to get a chance to find out if there was something beyond this silly little crush you’ve developed.

Why didn’t you tell him? Your brain hissed at you. You’re just a big scaredy-cat.

“Y/n?”

The firmness in Bucky’s voice brought you back, you shook your head to clear it of the times past and quickly followed it with a nod as if you were answering a question, but you had no idea what was said. Bucky didn’t mention your momentary blackout, but he did take the cup from your hands because your fingers were trembling, and you had yet to notice. You wrung them together to stop them from shaking, but they continued on.

“Have you been by to see Sarah?" Bucky asked again, picking up where he left off without missing a beat.

You cleared your throat and shifted from one foot to the other, your guilt was shining through loud and clear. No, you had not been by. You had intended to and even tried a few times, only ever made it to the end of the driveway before you retreated back inside and crawled into your bed. It was too hard, and you didn’t think you could face her after everything. It was as if Steve was staring back at you, and that hurt more than your heart could handle. Bucky sighed and pulled your jacket off the hook hanging in the kitchen, holding it out for you to take and gently urged you, “Come on Trouble. I’ll go with you.”

You grumbled something snarky under your breath that Bucky couldn’t make out, but it made him smile regardless. Your jacket was still hanging off his fingers, so you yanked it off and tucked it under your arm, refusing to let him win every battle today.

“I was thinkin’ we could stop in at Dixie’s on the way.”

“I’m not hungry,” you grumped, a sour face and firm pout in place.

Bucky held the screen door for you and raised a brow with a smirk curling up the edges of lips, “I didn’t say you had to eat. I’m starving, and I’ve missed their stuffed french toast.”

Your frown deepened at Bucky’s words and trudged across the yard through the snow to Steve’s truck. There was that stomach sinking expectation that he was trying to force you to eat, the same way everyone else did when they saw you. As if they were trying to cure your grief with casseroles and baked goods, not Bucky, though. He opened the door, and you climbed up into the passenger seat without second-guessing the action. Bucky made his way into the driver’s seat and pulled Steve’s keys out of his pocket; you never even saw him grab them.

It was quiet in the cab as Bucky fiddled with the radio, leaving it low once he had found a song he liked. You turned your gaze towards the window, and after several minutes of silence, you rolled your eyes, admitting with a huff, “I do like their french toast. They do that thing where they put the caramelized bananas on top, and the one with the cream cheese in the middle is pretty good.”

A small smile formed, but Bucky didn’t say anything. He was smart enough to stay quiet.

---

Despite having to face your mother-in-law for the first time in two months, you surprisingly felt better than you had this morning. All that sugar from Dixie’s helped. Even though you didn’t want to admit it, it felt good to do normal, everyday things again. Things you would have done with Steve or even before him. It didn’t make you a bad wife to go to breakfast with a friend or to order Steve’s favorite instead of avoiding it. It was okay to laugh a little when Bucky dribbled syrup down his grey Henley and missed the bit in the stubble that was beginning to grow back. Spending time outside the darkness didn’t mean you loved Steve any less or that you had to move on if you weren’t ready to. It simply meant the world continued on, and it was okay for you to do the same when it was time.

That was a nice reminder, though, standing in front of your mother-in-law's door made it feel as if everything was at a standstill once again and the high from all that sugar was fading fast. You raised your hand to open the back door four or five times, but you couldn’t force yourself to touch the handle. Sarah had her own mourning to work through and didn’t need to add yours on top of it. She shouldn’t have to comfort you, and you were in no shape to console her.

Bucky’s knuckles ran up and down your spine to soothe the jitters you were emitting, he encouraged gently, “Go on, Trouble. She loves you. I know she’ll be excited to see you.”

You took a deep breath and pushed the backdoor open, it creaked which made you smile. Steve would have complained about adding a little something to grease the hinges, so it wasn’t so loud. Sarah would say no, she liked to hear it squeak when you came in. Sarah’s eyes widened when you stepped through the door, but they quickly lit up with excitement. She was in the same spot as always, sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper in front of her, thin blonde hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head, and you might have been wrong, but it looked like she was wearing one of Steve’s old shirts. Sarah pulled her glasses off, rising from her chair before you could tell her to stay.

“Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you to drop by…”

Her words died off, and her smile quickly fell when Bucky stepped through the door, dusted off his boots on the mat, and smiled at her. It was obvious she was excited to see him, but there was a shake in her hand and a mist in her eyes no one could miss when he spoke, "Hey, Mama R."

“I-I spoke to Winnie this morning. She didn’t think you would be stopping by right away,” Sarah stopped to give you a hug and whispered she loved you before she reached for Bucky and pulled him into a hug only a mother could provide. Bucky seemed happy to be on the receiving end, “Are you kiddin'? I had to come see you. I’m not home till I do.”

Maybe it was what Bucky had said or the tenderness in his voice when he said, but it broke whatever glue Sarah was using to hold herself together. You took a few steps back and let your weight sag back against the counter, Bucky stood in the doorway holding Sarah, and you heard her choked whispers from where you were hiding, “Did it-- Were you there? Was it--”

He shook his head, answering her unspoken question, was it bloody and painful. Bucky assured her, “Yeah, I was there. It was quick, and he wasn’t in any pain. I promise.”

You met Bucky’s eyes over her shoulder, and he quickly dropped your gaze, his focus back on Sarah and comforting her the best he could. Bucky was lying. You knew him well enough to know when he was telling tall tales and right then was the tallest he’s told. Either he wasn’t with Steve when it happened, or it wasn’t as quick as he was claiming.

Sarah was quick to wipe her eyes and pretend it never happened. She offered to make lunch, and despite your efforts to stop her by informing her you just came from breakfast, she began cooking anyway. You wanted to protest, but Bucky shook his head, so you let it go. Sarah was only trying to fix what she could, she couldn’t bring Steve back, but she could make ridiculously good turkey Reuben. Steve wasn’t mentioned the rest of the five-hour visit, and you had a feeling it was done for your benefit. It should have been a relief because the last thing you want to do is breakdown in front of Bucky or Sarah, but it only made you angry.

Would they talk about Steve if you weren’t around? Would they share secrets and memories? Would Bucky have told her what happened to Steve if only you hadn’t come? It wasn’t fair of you to be angry with either of them, but nothing was fair about any of this.

The ride back to your house was silent. You barely spoke five words to Bucky through lunch, and even though you promised you would soon, you weren’t sure when you would go back to Sarah’s. It wasn’t as hard as you expected, but today had been exhausting. Bucky never turned the radio on, and you were grateful. The quiet gave you a chance to hear the whistle in the wind as the trees rustled and listen for leaves blown by your window. It was a pretty whisper that made your skin prickle, you had forgotten how pretty spring could be.

Bucky gave you space you so desperately needed once you got home. You bolted towards your bedroom the moment the front door opened. It wasn’t him you were running from. You hoped he knew that, so you left your door cracked. The stale air of your bedroom felt like you were suffocating, and the sight of your blankets in a heap on the top of your mattress only added to your unease. With the window cracked and one of Steve’s shirt now replacing yours, you slowly started to untangle the sheets and gathered your throw pillows off the floor in the corner of the room. Baby steps. That was what Sam was always telling you. So, maybe you start with making your bed. It wasn’t like anyone would know if you gave up. You were all alone. There was a soft knock on your door, and you looked up to find Bucky standing awkwardly in your doorway.

“Everything okay?”

Bucky cleared his throat and gave you a curt nod. There was something dark in his hands, and he was gripping it so tightly you thought for sure it would rip in two. The stiffness in his frame made you stop, drop the throw pillow in your hand onto the end of the bed, and you took a step towards him. You inspected the hand he was holding out, and your chest tightened when you realized what it was.

“I wanted to make sure you got this back.”

Bucky brought your scarf back home.

“He would want you to know it was with him when it happened. He had you with him when it happened.”

You ran your fingers along the frayed threads and the new holes that were littered throughout. You could see spots where the sun had faded it, the darker pieces where he tucked it into his shirt. “I, uh, I didn’t wash it. I kept it wrapped in one of his shirts. I didn’t know if...”

You brought it up to your nose to take a breath and smiled at the familiar earthy citrus scent. When they told you Steve was lost during a mission, you assumed you would never see it again. It was nice to hear Steve wasn’t lying all those times he told you he took it with him, it never left his side just like he promised and it was nice to have that piece of him back.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Bucky shrugged his shoulder and gestured towards the end of the hall, where he would be if you wanted him. You weren’t going to say anything. The plan was to stay in your room for the rest of the night and wallow, but now… you didn’t want to be alone and holding that thin fabric between your fingers; you had to ask. With Steve’s scarf resting on the corner of your bed, you called out for Bucky before he could leave your sight.

“Hm?”

Bucky stopped short and leaned against the doorframe as if he was preparing himself for what you were about to ask. You’ve always been able to read each other, there was no doubt he knew what was coming.

“It wasn’t quick, was it?”

Bucky only shook his head in response. It wasn’t an answer to your question, he wasn’t going to answer you right now. He didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe that was for your benefit, or perhaps he simply couldn’t talk about it yet. Either way, you wouldn’t push him.

“W-would you want to, um, have dinner with me?” Your voice cracked when you asked. He caught it, but you pressed on, ignoring the concern darkening his eyes, “I don’t have any groceries. I haven’t been getting out much. There was a thing with a pie--”

“Thing with a pie?” Bucky interrupted with a curious tilt of the head and playful smirk forming.

You rolled your eyes and brushed it off with a wave of your hand.

“It’s not important. People are nosy, and sometimes baked goods make you emotional, okay? It’s normal… Just-- nevermind. I was thinking we could heat up one of those stupid frozen dinners everyone keeps bringing by and stuffing in my freezer.”

Bucky chuckled and waved his hand, silently telling you to lead the way, “Yeah, let’s go see what we’ve got, but I’m handling the stove.”

“It’s just warming it up, Buck.”

“Still,” Bucky whistled lowly, wearing that silly smirk. “I don’t wanna risk it, Trouble.”

As hard as you tried to fight, you found yourself smiling for the first time in a long, long time.

The next four weeks continued to drag on like every week since Steve has been gone. The hours crawled by, the minutes took forever to pass, and you counted the seconds until you could hide away in your room. Bucky didn’t smother you, but he did hover. He liked to check-in by walking by your room, never saying anything, just glancing towards your bed where he often found you. Bucky didn’t crowd you the way Sam had, but you knew he was taking notice of your lack of sleep and your poor eating habits from the moment he arrived. It wasn’t that you were purposely skipping meals; you had no appetite and forcing yourself to eat felt like torture some days. Your appetite had improved some since Bucky came home, but you still rarely venture out of the house or do much of anything. Most of your days were spent hiding in your room, and your nights were spent on the back deck.

It was the best place to stare at the stars.

That’s where Bucky found you yet again, you heard the sliding door rolling along the tracks and Bucky’s bare feet getting closer and closer with each step. Bucky was getting a glass of water like he did every night. He wasn’t the only one paying attention. Bucky slowly sat down next to you, letting his legs hang off the deck like yours but didn’t say anything. It was becoming somewhat of a nightly tradition, and most nights, you didn’t talk. Sometimes you didn’t even mind having the company, other nights weren’t so giving. You turned your head after several silent beats and looked at the man sitting next to you. Bucky gave you a small inquisitive smile, and you shrugged your shoulder. Bucky grinned and leaned his own arms on the railing, mimicking your stance and followed your gaze to the sky.

“So, why are you always out here? I come down every night, and I see you sitting in the same spot.”

It was a fair question, but the answer wasn’t so easy to give.

“I don’t sleep much anymore.”

Bucky understood that better than most. He really did. Bucky had once told you between the things he had seen and the things he had done, he found it hard to close his eyes and rest. Sleep often meant nightmares, and lately, you had a feeling those were filled with images of Steve. Bucky gazed up at whatever set of stars you were trying to spot through the tears in your eyes, the ones you tried to hide when he came outside.

Thankfully, Bucky would never bring them up.

“The house feels confining sometimes, but I’m not ready to leave it. It’s quiet, and my bed is cold. Empty. I don’t like it. And…” You sighed heavily and quietly admitted, “I like looking up at the stars. I feel like wherever he is, maybe he’s looking down at the same time I'm looking up. Feels like he’s not fully gone when I do that. It sounds stupid, I know.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid, Y/n.”

Bucky tore his eyes away from the sky and looked back at you. He shook his head and let out an amused sigh, "He used to say the same thing. A lot actually. Which didn’t make a lot of sense because our night was usually your day, but he said he liked to look up at the stars hoping you were doing the same and thinking about him."

You smiled at the thought.

“Why are you downstairs every night? Checking up on me?” You nudged Bucky with your shoulder, and he gave you a gentle nudge back before answering.

“Hmm. Nightmares. Things I’d rather not see a lot of. I try to avoid them if I can.”

You hummed in understanding. Even if he hadn’t confided in you years ago about the things that haunted him when he closed his eyes, you knew about nightmares. You were constantly running from yours. The bags under your eyes and the constant yawning was the first sign that sleep no longer came easily.

“Come on, Trouble,” Bucky urged you as he slowly stood and held his hand out for you. You looked up at him, brow furrowed with a question burning in your eyes; it was three in the morning, where could he possibly want to take you?

“Come on?” you repeated, hoping he would elaborate.

“Let’s go lay down.”

Your face went dark, and you looked back up at the stars, shutting down the offer. You couldn't sleep. Bucky tucking you in wouldn't change that. The bed was far too big now, with a cold side that never felt right and left you with an empty chest when you woke.

"I’ll hold you until you fall asleep. I’ll stay with you, so it doesn’t feel so empty,” Bucky whispered as if he knew all the thoughts bouncing around your head. You slowly reached out and took his hand, letting him help you to your feet. He didn’t let go. Bucky held your hand as he led you through the house. He paused at your bedroom door and waited. It was the space you shared with Steve, and he wasn’t going to step into that territory unless you made it clear it was okay to do so.

“Can you wait a second?” You whispered.

Bucky nodded and released your hand so you could slip behind the door. A few minutes later, you stepped into the hallways wearing a baby blue tank top and matching cotton shorts, holding a pillow to your chest. It was Steve’s. You both knew it was. There was no reason to dwell on it or make an outward admission. You waited for Bucky to grab your hand and lead you back to the guest room that he had moved into, staring at his bed covered in more than enough pillows you’re filled with a bit of embarrassment and remorse.

Bucky was only trying to help.

“I’m sorry--”

Bucky quickly pulled you into his arms and shook his head, soothing you with all those pillows bearing witness, “Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for. Some wouldn’t understand, but I do. I get it. We’re okay, Y/n."

You nodded even though you didn't feel any better about it, and glanced at his bed. It was the same size as yours, but this one looked much smaller now that you were sharing it with someone else. It’s been nearly two years since you shared a bed with someone else, and you weren’t sure if it was better or worse than sleeping alone.

Steve was always the big spoon. Always. There were rare moments when he would let you carry his troubles and let you hold him, but those didn’t come along often. You didn’t want to do that. It felt wrong even though there wasn't anything indecent about Bucky's offer. The offer was derived from his love for Steve, and for you, he was worried about you, and it was plain to see despite his best efforts to show you otherwise. You could give him an inch, and sleeping didn’t sound so bad after all the nights you have spent struggling to rest. Bucky waited for you to get comfortable; finally, you settled on your side, facing him with Steve’s pillow resting comfortably behind your back as if Steve was holding you, and he gave you a small smile.

You were stiff when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you towards him, so your head rested on his chest. It felt odd to let someone other than Steve hold you. Not that you haven't curled up next to Bucky on the couch during a movie or held his hand at Coney island. You’ve felt his lips on your forehead more times than you could count. That was a long time ago, though. Back when you all were just friends, and you thought maybe Bucky had feelings for you. Before that night, the night that changed everything, before vows had been exchanged and the Army, Bucky always seemed to be buzzing around you. He would walk you to class, bring lunch by your dorm whenever he could, Bucky would stay long after everyone else went home and held your hand whenever it was free to hold.

There was a second, a fleeting twinkle when you thought he was finally going to admit he had feelings for you but, Bucky never said anything.

Then Steve happened.

Things between you and Bucky changed fairly quickly once Steve kissed you. Bucky no longer reached for your hand when it was bare. He was quiet. Distant. It took a few months before Bucky finally seemed to be himself again when the three of you were together. Things had changed, you didn't blame him. Steve had, only a little before you talked some sense into him and assured him it would take time for everyone to get used to the new dynamic. Steve had said, Bucky better get used to it because this, you and him, was forever. Forever wasn't quite as long as you or Steve thought it turned out.

“Did Steve ever tell you about the time I caught him fighting two guys double his size behind that old Pizza Hut, holding nothing but one of those red plastic trays as some sorta shield?”

You chuckled through your sniffles and shook your head as best you could against his chest. The tension in your shoulders lifted enough that you began to relax, and Bucky ran a hand up and down your arm to help take the rest of the weight you were forcing on yourself.

“No, what happened?”

Bucky snorted, and you knew the look he was wearing. The same look of indignation he wore every time Steve ran headfirst into trouble without thinking of the consequences.

“Nothin’ good. Little punk ended up with a broken nose, and I lost most of my paycheck tryin' to cool them off enough to leave before they pummeled him into the ground. Then he gets mad at me for stepping in.”

You tucked your head further into his chest to hide your smile and mumbled against the soft cotton of his shirt. “Lemme guess, he had it under control?”

Bucky gave your arm a squeeze and confirmed, “Yeah, he had it under control.”

“Tell me more stories.” You begged quietly, “Please?”

Bucky was quiet for a few moments, and then his chest rumbled under your ear, “Let’s see, all right. All right. I got one. In fifth grade--”

Bucky talked until your breath evened out, and soon you were snoozing soundly against his chest. He hoped tonight your nightmares would give you both one night of peaceful sleep, but he wasn’t counting on it.

The night was coming to an end, and you spent most of it watching Wanda attempting (and failing) to stop Pietro from flirting with every girl present, Clint and Nat making out by the fire all night long and Sam having several serious conversations with Bucky. Dot was still fawning all over Bucky after she got her claws in him and pulled him off the dock and away from you. Not that, that was unusual when everyone got together. She was always all over Bucky. Everyone seemed to have someone and that someone wasn’t you. Even Steve was avoiding you tonight for a reason you couldn't begin to understand. Maybe it was time to throw in the red Solo cup and head home.

“Y/n?”

You spun around to see Steve standing behind you, looking out of sorts and a little nervous. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey. Hi...” Steve gnawed his bottom lip and stared at the fire in front of you, trying to process something by the look in his eyes. He was struggling with something, and you were starting to worry something was seriously wrong.

“Are you okay, Steve?”

“Am I okay?” Steve echoed your words. You giggled at the way his brow crumbled, and his nose scrunched up while he thought your question over, making him grin.

“Screws this,” Steve whispered.

Steve tossed his cup in the fire and took two long strides into your space, cupping your face in both hands, and his lips were on yours before anyone knew what was happening. There were a few whistles and shouts from your idiot friends, but you didn’t notice any of them. All you could see at that moment was Steve. His lips were softer than you pictured, and your heart jumped in a way you didn’t think was possible from one silly kiss. It wasn’t anything indecent, but it was enough to make your knees go weak, and your breath stutter when he finally pulled away Steve pressed his forehead against yours, still cradling your face in his hands when he apologized.

"Sorry. I really love that laugh."

Your heart fluttered, and your fingers tightened around his wrists, hopeful it would be enough to keep you standing when the ground drops out from under you a second time.

"You kissed me because you love my laugh?"

Steve’s cheeks turned a pretty rosy color. His embarrassment wasn't enough to make him let you go just yet. "Yeah, I guess I did.”

You paused for a beat.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Steve smiled in that sweet, shy way you’ve always liked and whispered just loud enough for you to hear over the noise of the party and the fire raging next to you, “Pretty much from the moment I met you. I mean, It’s you, Y/n. Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

A bright grin stretched across your face, and you stepped back out of his hold, holding your hand out for him to take. Steve took your hand but pulled you back into his arms, this unusual display of confidence coming from him was disarming.

“I was thinking about heading home, but I’m suddenly starving. Wanna go get some cheese fries and drive me home?”

“Yeah, yeah, we can do that.I’ll go anywhere if I get to go with you,” Steve promised with a grin.

Your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at the guest room ceiling, trying to catch your breath without waking Bucky. You hated that thinking about that night, let alone dreaming about it and having to see it all play out. It used to be one of your favorite memories. You would beg Steve to replay the details as if he was reading from the pages of some silly storybook and now you couldn’t stand the slightest hint of that night. Your breath wasn’t steadying, it was only getting worse, and you could feel the panic building, clawing at your throat. You slowly slipped out of bed, leaving Bucky sleeping soundly and retreated to the safety of your room. Closing the door behind you, you flipped the lock, and your legs finally gave out from under you. You slid down the wall, unable to stop your tears you’ve been holding in since you woke.

Sam kept telling you to give it time. It would take time, lots of time to heal, but you didn’t think you could keep going on this way. Not when your own memories are there to torment you. You would give everything you had to simply forget. Forget it all -- his death, the phone call, all of your fights and the makeups, too. The bad and the good. You’d trade the memory of all his kisses if you could just let go of this hurt.

This wasn’t how fairytales were supposed to end, maybe it was all a lie from the start. Perhaps you were never meant to end with a happy ever after.

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#past!Steve Rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #alternate universe #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #tw: military death #tw: character death #tw: death of a spouse #tw: depression

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shessoparticular · 4 years

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Blurred Lines | Part 1 | #ShawnMendesWritingCircle

Thank you @saysweartogod-og for starting this #ShawnMendesWritingCircle challenge!! Hope ya’ll enjoy the first part of my shawn x pa! reader fic!

Being the personal assistant to one of the biggest popstars in the world was a busy job whenever Shawn was doing press or touring but you seemed to just be “one of the boys” whenever Shawn was recording new music. He now owned a small cottage just outside LA that he used exclusively to record all his new stuff, staying away from the now notorious cabin the woods where he recorded a lot of his earlier stuff. It quickly became one of your favorite places to spend time with one of your favorite people in the world.

You had all but moved into Shawn’s recording cottage to be on hand whenever he or his writers or producers needed anything. Shawn had insisted on you taking the guest room, claiming there was absolutely no reason for you to spend money to rent a place when he had the whole place to himself. Part of the deal was that you’d have to be on hand basically 24/7, not just for him, but for the whole team. If they wanted coffee, you got it. If they wanted any type of food, you got it. If they wanted a specific notebook, you got it. You had been Shawn’s assistant for two years and knew his favorite brands and items without giving it a second thought, stocking up on things you could’ve been asked for which made the number of times you’d actually have to leave the house minimal. Shawn This led to getting an insight into Shawn’s writing and producing habits for up to 10 hours a day. Recording time was the best time to spend around Shawn as you were free from a lot of the authoritarian figures who watched over the two of you constantly.

You knew it was inappropriate but of course you had a little bit of a crush on Shawn, who wouldn’t? Constantly throughout your working relationship, you had forgotten that he paid your bills and he was actually your boss, although he treated you like you were friends. Andrew and the team had specifically hired someone around his age hoping that they’d be able to work well with Shawn, but they never imagined that you’d have as good a relationship as you had now. You’d stay up together on the bus in the middle of tour, talking about absolutely nothing but somehow, you’d never run out of things to say, often chatting your heads off until you saw the sun come up through the front window. You’d often end up asleep on random couches in expensive hotel rooms when you decide to binge watch a movie trilogy or a season of a random show. You’d even snuck out without the others knowing, seeing the sights of whatever random city you had found yourselves in. The one thing the two of you never discussed was a kiss you had shared after a night out in Europe. You were both under the influence of a hell of a lot of alcohol and agreed to never speak on it again, Shawn saying it was a mistake. You definitely didn’t agree, it was now like it never actually happened, despite how much you wanted it to happen again. The lines of a working relationship were blurred a long time ago.

“Hey y/n, can you grab me a new bottle?” Shawn asked, holding up the empty flow bottle, distracting you from your thoughts as you sat on the beanbag placed along the wall of the small studio room. “Got you” You laughed, standing up and grabbing a new bottle from the fridge next to you, tossing it to the tall boy situated on the chair close to the desk holding a heap of expensive recording equipment. You had been too distracted by your own thoughts to see that he was staring at you before he asked the question, with the same look you would give him whenever he wasn’t looking, a look of adoration.

Shawn had developed a crush on you as well. It was kind of inevitable for him, spending all this time together, feelings were bound to appear. He was professional though, and never let himself cross the boundaries though, except for that one night. He valued your friendship too much to let anything get in the way of you keeping your job. He was happy to have you around in any capacity.

“What’s on the agenda tonight, popstar?” You asked as you took a sip of the bottled water you’d gotten out for yourself, plopping yourself back down on the beanbag. Sunday’s meant Shawn was working by himself in the studio, free from the distractions of the other producers and writers, allowing him to be the sole creator of any ideas that came to mind that day. This was your favorite way to watch Shawn work. “It’s like 6pm and I’m honestly nearly done here so what do you think about some UberEats, that beer in the main fridge and whatever new Netflix standup comedy is out?” He asks, playing around with some buttons on the panel on the desk in front of him. “Only if I get to pick where we order from” You laughed in response, pulling up the app on your phone to search for your favorite fast food burger joint. “I think I can deal with Chick-fil-A again” He chuckled. He knew you a little too well.

Shawn returned to whatever he was creating on the sound desk in front of him, leading you to unlock your phone and open up the photos app. You spent the next however many minutes aimlessly looking at all of the photos of the two of you together, silly selfies when you were both going insane on tour and the typical tourist photos in front of landmarks all over the world featured, your mind going back to every moment you’d captured together. You smiled to yourself thinking of the memories you’d shared together.

Three hours later the two of you were curled up under blankets on the L-shaped couch, chugging your beers, chowing down on the chicken sandwiches while a Netflix standup special was playing in the background. You and Shawn rarely ever paid attention to what was playing on the TV, too engrossed in your own conversation. The two of you had discussed any random topic you could think of while consuming a copious amount of alcohol. The two of you both hadn’t had alcohol for a while, so it was affecting you a lot more than it usually did. “So… is there a girl yet Mendes?” you giggled, the beer finally making you a little bit buzzed. You were always pretty professional around Shawn and he rarely ever saw you under the influence. In the two years you’d known him, he’d never had a girlfriend. Of course, there were girls around, look at him! But they’d never stuck around. “Why do you ask me this when you already know the answer is no? We spend all our time together, I don’t have time for anyone else” He laughed, taking another swig of his fourth beer.

“So, are there any boys?” He retorted while you rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah there’s one annoying one who depends on me for everything, his name is Shawn” you cracked yourself up, you and Shawn knew at this point the alcohol was overwhelming you. You had stayed up for another few hours, finishing off a few episodes of Jane The Virgin. “I think it’s bedtime for you, look at you” he snickered while he cleaned up the leftovers and empty bottles. You were still laid up on the couch, but now half asleep. “Only if I get to stay in your bed” you replied with a giggle, looking up at him while he stood over cleaning off the coffee table in front of you. Drunk you had a lot more courage than your sober self. “I suppose, only if you stay on your side” He laughed, obviously a bit tipsy as well. You helped him scoop up the rest of the mess before you headed towards his bedroom door instead of your own.

“So, what are we gonna talk about? I haven’t shared a bed with a boy since you started cockblocking me two years ago” you teased, looking at him from across the bed. “Cockblocking?” He asked while confused. “Yeah. You think any guy is gonna wanna try and get with me at a bar when I’m always with this extremely good-looking tall dude scaring them off?” You replied truthfully, the alcohol had obviously worn off by this point of the night. “You think I’m good-looking?” he teased, poking his tongue out at you. “Of course I think that! I’ve only had a crush on you for the last eighteen months” you finally admitted, afraid of his reaction. “That’s the alcohol talking” He sighed, with a slight look of disappointment on his face. “It’s really not. I just don’t want to risk my job, Shawn. We’ve been so professional together, trying to not break any rules. I never wanted people to think that I got to where I am by sleeping with my boss. I’d never go against Andrew or your label, Shawn. I love our relationship and how we are together so much. I’d never risk that because of a stupid little crush” You were almost crying at this point, wiping away tears as you sat up in the bed.

“It’s not a stupid crush y/n. You know heaps of people around me have said that we look like a couple. I like you as well, you must know that already. I have for ages, that’s why I’ve never dated anyone since we got to know each other. We just can’t act on it; it would be so unprofessional” he admitted. “I wish we could, I really do. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now. But as you said I would hate for people to think any less of you because of it” he continued. “That’s what I thought, I want more than anything for us to actually be together and I’m annoyed that it took alcohol for me to tell you. Do you even remember when we kissed in Germany?” you asked him. “Of course I remember it. I think about it all the time” He exclaimed. “We can’t be talking about this y/n” He sighed, looking over at you. “Can’t talk about what, Shawn?” You sassed back, your sadness quickly turning to anger. “Us. There can’t be an us” He stated simply. “Then stop leading me on Shawn! You can’t treat me like more than a friend and turn it around on me when it suits you. It’s embarrassing. I don’t know if you remember, but you kissed me Shawn, not the other way around. If you want me to just act like your employee, that’s exactly what I’ll do” you yelled almost quietly, taking your pillow and storming back into the guest bedroom. You made sure to slam both his and your door as loud as you possibly could.

The next morning you made your way out to the kitchen to make your morning coffee before Shawn joined you. “I made you a coffee, boss” you sassed, passing him the extra cup you had just poured moments before he entered the kitchen. If he wanted you to act like an employee, that’s exactly what you’d do. “Thank you. I ordered from that breakfast place you like down the road. I just have to make a phone call; can you just go to the door and grab it? It should be here any minute. Then I want to actually discuss what the fuck actually happened last night.” He stated, finishing his iPhone out of his pocket. “Sure” you replied, heading to the door quickly, with your coffee still in hand, to meet the delivery driver. You grabbed the food and tipped the driver before heading back inside the door while Shawn finished off his phone call.

You didn’t want to listen in, but you couldn’t help it. “Yeah, yeah of course” he replied to the person on the phone. “No, I’m definitely single. I’d love to take you out once you get to LA” he told the person on the other side of the call. You couldn’t help but freeze in place when you heard what he said, dropping the coffee cup, allowing the liquid to spill everywhere and the porcelain to break all over the floor, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve gotta go” He hung up quickly before looking over at you near the entrance. “y/n?” He questioned as soon as he saw the tears in your eyes. “Yeah, I heard that Shawn” You replied angrily, dropping the bag of food on the kitchen bench before storming off into your guest room, locking the door behind you.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #ShawnMendesWritingCircle #shawn mendes x pa! reader #shawn mendes x y/n

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novantinuum · 4 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Pairing: Steven/Connie

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.6K~

Summary: In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be. (Just a bunch of teen romance fluff, + first kiss)

This is set like... a few weeks before Steven leaves Beach City. I imagine he’s been recovering from what happened in I Am My Monster for at least 6 months by this point.

His days aren’t always great- there’s a lot of ups and downs- but thankfully, today is a markedly pleasant one.

_____

His house is still for once. Impossibly so. No Diamond business, no new arrivals to Earth, no disgruntled Gems kicking down his front door. No more battles, beyond his own internal ones. Admittedly, a part of him is happy for the peace and quiet. He’s appreciative of the way all his family and friends rallied around him in support months back after... erm- after his breakdown, but every guy needs some space eventually.

‘Some space’ never has to mean alone, of course.

Steven sneaks a doe-eyed glance at the girl flopped next to him on the living room couch, her mind lost in the pages of her own fantasy world. It’s a new series, something about a human accidentally falling into the world of the fae. (It’s only been like, half an hour, and she’s almost a hundred pages in already!) A pliable smile teases his lips as he watches her eyes flicker back and forth, digesting each passage with a voracious hunger. Sighing in content, he turns his attention back to his own book, externally making as if he’s busy exploring the world of fiction to hide the sappy fact that instead he’s been thinking about her all along. Honestly? He adores quiet days like these. Even if they’re not doing anything special, it’s just nice to get to spend time alone together. It’s a comfortable together.

Connie shifts, instinctively curling closer, her free arm slung against his side. With a soft hum of content he leans into her welcomed embrace, trying his best (and— caught in her innocently bewitching presence— failing abysmally) to focus on the wandering lines of text.

Everything is peaceful.

No hard knocks, no frenzied phone calls, no family disruptions. The domestic warp hasn’t even activated once this whole lazy afternoon. In recent days, he’s pretty sure that’s a record.

At long last, his house is still... and yet in a flash, his hormone riddled teenage mind— ever foolish— is everything but.

Because Connie’s touch is tickling him.

It’s subconscious, almost imperceptible at first. At some point her free hand has roved so that it’s no longer pressed against his side, but against his midriff— which is currently exposed, his shirt bunched up at the waist from all his slouching. Teasingly, her fingertips dance upon the facets of his gem with the pinpoint expertise of a prima ballerina, encoding an endless rhythm directly into the sum of his being, the feather-light contact sending vibrations almost too faint to notice coursing through his hard light veins. But not too faint for him. Not now, not while host to this kind of silence. Not when the girl draped on the couch next to him unknowingly commands every shard of his attention with the slightest twitch of her index finger.

It’s taking all his willpower not to squirm at this ticklish contact right now. It’s so... weird when other people touch his gem. It’s certainly not something he’s used to.

(Steven promptly buries the memory of the last time someone touched it, refusing to let old terrors tarnish an otherwise pleasurable encounter. He can feel the pink threatening to rise in his cheeks, that instinctual rush of panic he’s grown so numb to over the past months rearing its ugly head. It’s so, so hard to wrestle away from its thrall sometimes, but thankfully his therapist has been teaching him ways to mitigate these sorta reactions. His eyes clamp shut as he breathes deep through his nose and focuses on the tangible, on what he knows: the plump, lumpy cushions of the couch under him, the slight scent of garlic and cumin in the air from the lunch he cooked a few hours ago, the rhythmic crashing of waves outside the house. The warmth of his best friend by his side—)

Tap, taptaptap, tap, taptaptap...

His cheeks bloom a human red as her lulling rhythm continues.

Like he said, it’s obviously subconscious. It has to be, right? It would certainly make sense. From his observations, Connie’s always been a tactile thinker. It’s part of what made her such a quick study in sword fighting. Whenever her mind is alight, those beautiful neurons firing back and forth like a firework display, her body is in motion. Sometimes it’s her foot, tapping impatiently into the dirt as she parses through memory to find the precise words to say. Or it’s like how she memorizes facts for tests easier if she’s jogging, listening to audio recordings of the test materials she made herself. And then there’s times like now, when Connie is reading. When her fingers tap and glide with an almost impish touch across the diamond gemstone in his belly’s center as her eyes— by all appearances entirely disconnected from both her hand’s motion and his reaction— skim effortlessly across the unfolding tale on her page. Her hands... oh, those hands... calloused, warm, digits lithe and curious in their movement. They’re always shifting, always tapping, always twitching to some identifiable rhythm. Is this just another example of her sway towards more kinetic-based thinking? Or... is it something else? A silent yearning that extends its roots from the heart into object reality, innocently unaware of the power of its call?

Stars, Steven thinks, mustering with all his strength to ignore his burning face, so maybe I’ve been thinking a little too much about her lately...

Eventually, it all becomes a bit too overwhelming to handle. If this continues in silence any longer, well... well, heck. He doesn’t even want to imagine what embarrassing things could happen. Mustering up all his courage, he flips his book shut and drops it on the cushion beside him.

“Um, Connie? By the way? That’s kinda ticklish,” he squeaks out, voice high and reedy.

Upon his words, she notices where her fingers are subconsciously tapping and immediately pulls her hand away, her cheeks flushing dark. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she says, quickly tossing her book aside and shifting upright on the couch. “I didn’t mean to goose ya’! I wasn’t even thinking abo—“

“No, it’s okay!” he interjects with an open hand. “I’m fine, really, I am. I- it’s not like, uh- It isn’t like a bother, and- well, it just—“

Burning up with such a ferocity that he’s about one impulsive decision away from high tailing it out of this fraught social situation and dunking his glowing pink head right into the Atlantic, he forces himself to hush before he says something super stupid and humiliating in front of his best friend in the whole world that he’ll regret and replay in his dreams forever and ever for the rest of his days.

Okay, Steven, stop running your mouth like a lovesick fool for one second and think. How can you say this in a way that doesn’t sound entirely stupid and/or weird?

Watching him closely, curiosity written across every vibrant feature, Connie inclines her head ever so slight, a subtle, wordless gesture— one only a Jam Bud could understand— for him to keep going.

The phantom sensation of her fingers tapping against crystal rushes through his nerves like the physical analogue to a bad ear worm. He reaches up to itch at the side of his neck, unable to fully stifle his nervous laughter.

“Honestly, it uh- it actually felt pretty nice?”

“What, me touching your gem?”

“Yeah,” he manages to croak out, voice cracking like it hadn’t since he was freshly fifteen.

She isn’t able to fully stifle her giggle at this, pressing her hand tight to her mouth far too late.

His heart nearly plummets at the sound of her teasing laughter, the constant thrumming of his hard light veins steadily quickening as a flood of energy pulses just below the surface. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, he knew it was far too much after every other recent misstep he’s made in their relationship! Why couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut?

“Aw, geeze,” he says, voice thick and his every muscle ready to bolt, “this is so embarrassing—“

“No, no! I shouldn’t have laughed, it’s okay!” she jumps in, pressing her hand to his shoulder to help ground him “It’s just bodies, Steven. It’s not weird. It’s just how skin-to-skin contact works. It’s supposed to feel good, because we’re meant to be social creatures, y’know?”

He hums softly in agreement, taking the offered moment to ease himself down from brink of panic. He focuses intently on the weight of her hand, resting feather-light against him. It’s a small gesture, but a powerful one. More than anything, more than words alone could say, it’s a promise. A reaffirmation, moment by moment. I’m here. We’re here. It’s a truth even the sobering reality of shared trauma can’t hope to erase: that even when the going’s tough, they have each other.

Connie brushes a stray stand of hair behind her ear then, shifting on the couch. Perhaps out of a sum of bashfulness, her eyes drift, not quite able to meet his.

“I- it’s silly, but I guess I never considered that you could even feel sensation through your gem,” she admits.

“Really? But you’ve had a gem before. Well, shared a gem,” he corrects himself, though in the end it’s all semantics.

“Well, sure, but when we’re Stevonnie, they don’t tend to think about stuff like that, because you’re used to it, and I’ve never thought about it. It’s simply... normal for them, I guess.”

“Hahah, yeah. It’s always been that way for me,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I never crawled like a normal kid, d’ya know? Dad says I always used to move around by scooting on my butt. When I tried crawling my gem would scrape against the floor, and apparently? I hated it.”

She laughs for real this time, (with him, not at him), her voice ringing true and beautiful and clear like a bell. His heart swells with joy.

And then...

Connie’s lithe fingers reach towards his midsection, hesitantly at first, before— in careful consideration of boundaries— pausing in their voyage entirely.

Her eyes lock with his, her shy expression wholly giving up the chase on what her request will be before she ever shifts her tongue to ask in words. “Is it okay if-?”

“Always,” he says, gently leading her hand under the hem of his shirt and towards the gemstone at his core.

He can’t help his sharp inhale when he feels her fingertips dance across his facets once more. Even when he knows what’s coming, knows to expect this contact, it’s funny. Not funny in a ‘haha’ way, funny in an ‘I’m not used to this’ way. After all, he’s never exactly made a habit of touching his own gem beyond periodic cleaning, and (almost) no one else has ever had a purpose to. It’s for this reason that a small traumatized segment of his mind still can’t help but spiral in panic about the mere concept of any external being brushing against this treasure, this tangible half of his very essence. Given the nightmares he’s been through, he’d have every right to deny her touch. But with Connie... beyond everything else, allowing her in this way is the greatest show of vulnerability he knows how to give.

It’s his proof to her that in this moment, he trusts her implicitly, without question.

Gracefully, she traces her finger around the edge of his gem, lines each individual facet in turn. It’s ticklish at first, much like before, but as she grows more confident in her gentle exploration he finds himself relaxing under her touch. He feels warm, a faint buzz of content flooding his system through his hard light veins. With her, he feels safe.

“It really is beautiful, you know that?” she says, a peaceful expression settling across her features. “Your gem.”

“Nah, you’re beautiful...” he murmurs bashfully, cheeks flushing.

“So are you,” she replies in swift measure, eyes soft with endless adoration.

His fluttering heart extends its gossamer wings and soars. If it weren’t for her nestled at his side, lithe fingers running across each facet in even measure, her tactile presence tethering him like an anchor to this present reality, he’s pretty sure he’d have floated halfway to the ceiling by now.

Daringly, his gaze locks with hers. He swears his heart’s beating its own drum solo within his chest, but this time it’s not because of fear, not at all.

It’s the feeling of freedom.

His fingers loop around a stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of her eyes. That seems to happen a lot, he’s noticed. As delicate as he can manage, he hooks it back over her ear.

“Can I...?” he whispers, his warm breath brushing against her lips.

She replies in wordless affirmation, leaning forward to close the narrow gap between them. Hooded eyes drift shut. Her hand still rests on his gem as they finally move to cross that final barrier, that fuzzy, oft indistinguishable line drawn between childhood sweethearts and could-be couple, and kiss.

Well, attempt to, anyways.

To be fair, despite his schmaltzy roots, Steven only has movies and books to pull from as an example.

Their noses bump against each other’s at first. Both giggling, they tilt their heads to compensate and then mash their lips together, reveling in every ridiculous moment of their joint inexperience. It’s definitely sloppy, and he doesn’t have a clue where he’s supposed to put his hands or how long is too long, or how he’s supposed to move his mouth against hers, or— stars, did he even remember to brush his teeth this morning?? He sure hopes so— but because it’s with Connie all of that doesn’t matter. It’s perfect in every way.

“OoooOOOoo, looks like loverboy’s finally gettin’ some!”

He and Connie startle at the interruption, pulling apart from each other with equally flushed faces to match eyes with their surprise visitor.

It’s Amethyst, leaning against the kitchen table with a downright roguish smirk, probably thinking she’s the funniest Gem that’s ever emerged. Of course, who else would it be? (Though, which entrance did she come in from? When did she sneak past them? Were they really so involved with each other that they just... failed to notice??)

“Crude,” he says, brows creased with faint annoyance.

In return, she cups her cheeks and serves him the most ridiculous, schmaltzy expression she can muster. “Sap!”

Connie stifles a laugh at her exaggerated antics, but on his side he can’t help but be salty that her interruption yanked the two of them away from the blissful throes of blossoming teenage romance.

“Oh, get outta here, you,” he chimes back, and playfully tosses one of the couch’s pillow straight towards her face. “Shoo!”

The quartz Gem catches it out of midair and grins, no stranger to tests of reflex these days. Adopting a fake posh voice, she fires back her retort. “Your wish is my command, Sir Sappington...”

Tucking the pillow under her arm, she turns on her heels and skips up and over the warp pad’s platform, stalking towards her room with a victorious air. She doesn’t even try to mask her lovingly teasing snickers as the door splits in two at her command and she crosses the barrier into the temple’s dimension warping interior. The last they hear from her before the passageway shuts is an overly triumphant ‘whoop.’ Steven can’t help but raise a scandalized brow at this. What, were the Gems hosting a betting pool about him and Connie, or something?

But thankfully, in time, the beach house grows peaceful again. They’re alone together, and together they’re content.

“Geeze, sorry about that,” he says bashfully, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You know how Amethyst is, heh heh.”

Connie smirks with loving, mischievous intent, comfortably cuddling up against his shoulder. “She’s kinda right, though...”

“About?”

“You can be pretty sappy sometimes,” she says fondly, and tilts her head so she can smooch his cheek. “Just one of the many reasons I love you.”

____

Notes:

So, given that I’ve also written a fic wherein Steven wakes up feeling a hand against his gem and has a panic attack, a word of explanation with my headcanons-

Ultimately, I imagine there’s a very stark difference between a trusted individual like Connie touching his gem when he’s fully alert and it’s just them, alone, safe... and him waking up and being groggy enough to not immediately realize who it is next to him.

In the end though, I just hope Steven would be able to reclaim a once-terrifying experience (someone else touching his gem) as something that is also able to be loving and comforting when it’s done with consent.

#su #su future #steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #su fanfiction #steven/connie #amethyst #my writing stuff

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Summer days

I have come to realize i never posted my last Bog fluff battle entry!! The horror! So here it is! The prompts I used for this ones are:

36. Massages 25. Playing with/braiding hair 23. Person A falls asleep on couch to be carried to bed by Person B

Oh, and it’s Geralt and Dandelion, because they are the softest boys and i love them. On Ao3 here and here are my other 4 entries on Tumblr!

Words: 2051

Please enjoy <3

Lazy days are lovely. When nothing is urgent, the weather is nice and no one is hurt. Just, a chosen lazy day. Geralt likes them a lot, rare as they are. There is always a something to take care of, something to kill or some squabble to listen to.

He recently returned from a haunted house, finding a godling in the basement putting up quite the ruckus. So the house wasn’t all that haunted, but he isn’t telling the shitty house owner that. Because sometimes humans are the beastly ones.

So yes, a bit of a break is what Geralt is enjoying right now. Between one village and the next, Dandelion and Geralt found a small hut at the edge of a shallow lake. Too shallow to be inviting to drowners, but really, they could thrive in a puddle.

They decide to stay for a day or two. Just to take a breather.

Summer brings gentle nights with them, and Roach is roaming around the area and grazing. They spend some time laying in the grass, wiggling their toes and watching the clouds. Geralt can’t remember the last time he ran barefoot through a field, and Dandelion looks as outraged as if Geralt told him his new hat is a bit flat.

Not that Dandelion himself has done any barefoot running other than scrabbling out from lovers bedrooms lately, but that isn’t very poetic.

Dandelion teaches Geralt to put a flat piece of grass between his thumbs, pressing his hands together and blowing, to make it sound like a bird. A hoarse, sad bird, but still a bird. Dandelion laughs, throwing his head back when Geralt's blade of grass breaks for a third time.

Something in Geralt loosens at that. Some kind of tension finally breaks, and he allows himself a smile. There still must be vengeance though, so he grabs a fistful of grass and throws it in the offending bard’s face.

They would have slept in the hut. They would have, had it not been moldy and a great deal colder than the night outside. Instead they throw out their bedrolls, enjoying the clucking of water against the beach nearby and a night sky filled with stars.

It is beautiful. Calm.

Geralt watches the big darkness up above, listening to Dandelion’s even breaths, the swish of Roach’s tail, the soft sounds of insects. They didn’t light a fire, but before they went to sleep Geralt found them a tree fungi and lit it with Igni to keep the worst of the bugs at bay. He can’t help Roach much with those, having run out of the ointment he uses for her when it’s especially bad. He will have to make it up to her tomorrow.

He turns his head and watches Dandelion's sleeping form, a dark silhouette against the starlit lake. No matter how much time they spend apart, they always find a way back to each other. Sometimes by accident, sometimes seeking each other out. It’s nice. To have someone happy to see him, someone he is happy to see every time.

Recently, Geralt has come to realize that he is feeling more than he thought. About his bard. About how much he wants to put emphasis on Dandelion being his bard. More than once, he’s found himself staring at Dandelion when he talks, admiring how he looks when he is passionate about something. How much he cares for silly things, and how completely and utterly in love with himself he is. Geralt thinks about how beautiful his hands are, and how his curls bounce when he runs.

Looking at Dandelion now, he feels is maybe more than before.

He falls asleep like that, watching Dandelion. His lids fall shut without him noticing, and the next thing he knows is darkness and dreams.

The early morning brings rain, a small downpour making the world smell sweet. Geralt gets the first drop on his eyelid, the next on his chin. It takes him a moment to remember they actually have shelter, so he sits up and looks around. It is still too early for the sun to be really out, the world a little grey still.

Dandelion hadn’t woken up yet, so Geralt does them both a kindness and carries him inside the hut, putting him down on his own bedroll as he fetches the other.

Bards are terrible when they sleep poorly.

By the time all their things are safe from the rain, Geralt is wide awake. He knows Dandelion will be asleep for another few hours, so he sits down in the doorframe, listening to the rain. Meditating doesn’t give him the same kind of rest as sleeping does, but it settles him. Gives him a chance to collect himself.

This morning, it’s him and the morning birds. As soon as the sun rises, Roach wanders close to them. She wants her morning grains, and she tells him so very clearly. Geralt has never had a cat, nor has he ever interacted with one. But he is fairly sure Roach shares a trait, or five, with them.

As she eats, Geralt looks her over. Checking her legs, untangling knots in her mane, looking for sores and scrapes. Nothing actually ever gets close enough to hurt her, but strain can be an enemy too.

The rain lets up, and a soft mist takes its place as the water evaporates. Geralt pushes his fingers over Roach’s muscles, feeling how tense she is. He really owes her some care.

He starts on her neck, following the lines of her muscles, kneading and soothing. She has stopped eating, but she keeps her head low, relaxing under his ministrations. Then over her shoulders and the big muscles over her elbow. When he gets to the back, Dandelion has woken up and joins them outside, leaning against the hut wall.

Geralt can feel Dandelion’s eyes on him, and he becomes very aware of himself. The tunic from last night is laced open, untucked from his trousers and his hair is untied. It is not in any way immodest, and Dandelion has certainly seen him in worse states than this, but there is something in the air that Geralt can’t put the finger on.

“She looks like she is enjoying herself.” Dandelion comments when Geralt puts more weight behind the kneading, making the entire horse tilt with the movement.

“She’s earned it.” Geralt says, and tries not to react when he notices Dandelion's eyes dip to his half open shirt. He, too, is in somewhat a state. His blond curls fall over his shoulders, just a little ruffled and his white lace shirt is unlaced as well, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms and wrists.

“She really has.” Dandelion agrees. He walks up to Roach, pats her neck, but she ignores him. “Can I help?”

Geralt smiles warmly. Dandelion never was a big fan of dirty work, but spoiling others is something he loves. Dandelions cheeks color prettily when Geralt nods and makes room for him on the other side of Roach. It does something to Geralt's insides, knowing that he put that blush there. Something warm and nice, and he very much wants to see it again.

Dandelion comes up to stand next to him, their shoulders bumping.

“What do I do?” Dandelion asks, putting a hand on Roach’s back. Geralt's eyes get stuck there for two seconds, admiring Dandelions long, nimble fingers. There are very few scars there, only barely-there freckles. He wants to reach out but-

“We follow the lines of her muscles.” Geralt begins to explain instead. “Put your hand here.”

Geralt indicates towards the withers. Dandelion reaches over, for some reason careful not to touch Geralt, and that simply won’t do. So Geralt places his hand over Dandelions, covering it and spreading their fingers. Then he guides them over Roach’s back and over her side, showing Dandelion where to put pressure.

They both jump when her tail whips Dandelion over the back, breaking the spell that came over them.

“She’s ticklish.” Geralt explains and reluctantly lets go of the other’s hand.

“So do I just…?” Dandelion asks, hand hesitantly hovering over Roach. Geralt smiles and takes pity on him, gently guiding his hand to where he wants it.

“Here. You massage the butt. Nothing can go wrong there.” Geralt says, and Dandelion snorts.

“Clearly, you have not been around butts enough.” Dandelion huffs and Geralt elbows him goodnaturedly.

“Roach can hear you.”

“Right you are. Do I just press…? Like this?”

Geralt watches Dandelion's awkward movements, letting him fret as he works over Roach’s side. He’s doing it too much like he would massage a human, trying to use the meat of his thumb as he rubs along her spine.

“No, flatten your hand and spread your fingers.” Geralt corrects him kindly. “Then put your other hand over it, putting your fingers between each other. That is the easiest grip.”

Dandelion follows his instructions. Kind of. It resembles more of what Geralt meant, but not entirely. And he is more patting her than massaging her, afraid to go against the fur. Affection, Geralt realizes. It is affection he feels surging up. And he thinks… hopes that Dandelion feels it too.

“Hang on.” Geralt murmurs, and then steps behind Dandelion, reaching around him and arranging his fingers to his liking. Roach is standing patiently and waiting, against all odds, now grazing on the grass around the little hut.

When Geralt has adjusted his grip, he places both hands over them and shows him how to rub up and down, putting some weight behind it.

Dandelion is curiously quiet, and Geralt is feeling his own nerves acting up. They don’t usually get this close on purpose. Not like this. Not with the crackling energy burning in the gap between their bodies. Not when Geralt's pulse is beating in his ears.

When he feels like Dandelion has gotten it, he lets him go slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides. But he doesn’t move away, he stays behind Dandelion and pretends like this morning is like any other. Despite the crackling, despite the nervous energy, despite everything he feels.

“You got it.” He murmurs, and then he moves back to where he stood and picks up his own massaging. He never finished this side after all.

They stand in silence, the morning birds and the lapping water of the beach creating a background to their work. Geralt sneaks a peak at Dandelion every now and then, watching him move about the muscles with more purpose than he expected. And the tip of his tongue peeking out, as it does when he is concentrating.

Eventually they finish, and it is Dandelion's turn to make instructions. He shows Geralt how to make an intricate braid in Roach’s mane, using as many as five parts at a time. It feels more like weaving, something that Geralt is a little familiar with at least, and he gets the hang of it fairly quick. Until Dandelion disappears, returning with some flowers plucked from the field.

“She is a beautiful girl. She deserves beautiful things.” He reasons, and fair. Geralt keeps working on his complicated braid, and Dandelion stands right next to him, shoulders bumping, and putting small flowers here and there into it.

When it is time to tie it off, they realize they didn’t plan that far. Dandelion rushes inside to their packs and they sacrifice a bit of torn fabric to act as a ribbon. It clashes wonderfully with the flowers and braid, but Dandelion insists that that is what art is all about.

Somewhere mid-rant about art, Roach scampers off and it’s time for a breakfast of their own. They settle on the pebbled beach, passing a piece of cheese back and forth while watching the sun play on the surface of the lake.

It’s peaceful. The clouds have cleared out and a blue sky is stretching out around them. Before lunch both of their hairs are braided, woven with flowers and tied off with an old piece of fabric.

Geralt thinks they can stay here for another night. And he hopes that before then, he will get to hold Dandelion's hand in his.

Lazy days are lovely indeed.

#boys in love #gerlion #bog fluff battle #i forgot to post this one #oops #the witcher #spoiling roach #geralt x dandelion #flirty boys #witcher geralt #dandelion #summer days #dapanda writes #geralt of rivia #just fluffy feelings #calm #fluff #witcher fic #gerlion fic

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