#i will say that outside of personal taste I think movies can be very vague abr character motivation if theyre especially minimal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know?

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

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

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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elpercotreviews · 3 years

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My Anime 9/10′s

With probably no spoilers cuz I don’t wanna talk too long about them zzz.

1. Fullmetal Alchemist

YALL ALREADY KNOW THIS A 9/10. The only real reason this show is not a 10/10 is because it’s just a story that I’d never rewatch. There’s like 70 episodes, which is way too long for my short attention span, especially since I’ve seen it already. But yeah, by all accounts, this story is a masterpiece and is one of the only “shounen” anime’s that I genuinely enjoyed. No random sexualization. No dumb filler. All the characters have an actual purpose and role in the plot and everyone has their own morals and ideals that interact to make the story interesting. I couldn’t bring myself to really hate anyone, even the villains, because everyone was pretty well written. Also super satisfying ending that ties up everything properly without leaving me confused or upset. If you only watch a few anime in your life, Fullmetal Alchemist is pretty much a MUST WATCH to see a beautiful example of a modern classic anime as an artform. Also I should say that I really don’t like Hunter x Hunter (AN EXTREMELY CONTROVERSIAL OPINION BTW) but I love Fullmetal Alchemist so take from that what you will.

2. Parasyte: The Maxim

Same kinda shit where you already know this a 9/10 for me. It’s just a very satisfying anime that doesn’t have random sexualization or random filler or anything like that. Ending is also very good and ties up the story in a way that doesn’t leave more questions but also allows the characters to have a “life” outside of the scope of the story. I think Parasyte, because of its more horror and psychological-esque vibes, counts as a seinen and not a shounen, so for more mature audiences. I also really liked how the story was successfully adapted to modern times since the manga is from the 80′s. I have actually rewatched this anime, but what stops me from giving it a 10/10 is a few things that I found kinda “stereotypical” that I don’t wanna discuss further too much cuz it’s spoilers. I still obviously really like this anime and highly recommend it.

3. Zankyou no Terror

TBH, this anime is pretty hard for me to properly describe in a lot of words as to why I like it. The art was really pretty as well as the music, which was just straight up amazing. The cinematography of this anime is excellent as well, and a lot of scenes have that sense of being acted out by real people, as opposed to feeling completely drawn/animated. I was a teenager when this anime came out and I think a lot of the themes presented in the show really related to me. The show does kinda have some leftover questions when it ends that prevents me from rating it a 10/10, but I have such a soft spot for this anime. It’s from the same creator as Samurai Champloo and Cowboy Bebop, and although those two animes are also very good, they did not impact me as much as this anime did. Recommended for people looking for idk something that gives off Inception vibes?? In the sense that it’s much more about its themes and its message more so than the believability of the events that occur.

4. Magic Kaito 1412

THIS IS JUST A PERSONAL PREFERENCE BTW LOLOL I DON’T KNOW ANYBODY WHO’D PUT THIS AS A 9/10 ANIME. I JUST REALLY LIKED IT OKAY. It’s made by the same person who does Detective Conan but I like this a lot more because it’s a much shorter series and slightly more mature (more for teens than just straight up kids). I really liked the main guy, I think he’s funny and charismatic. He’s a pervert at times but Imma forgive that cuz of the 90′s. Idk it’s just a really fun anime that I don’t have to take seriously and can just watch and enjoy.

5. Mob Psycho 100 (season 1 AND 2)

Imma put season two as slightly better than season one. So season one would be like a 9 and season two is like a 9.25 for me. Super super funny anime and I like it SO much more than One Punch Man. I liked that there was a good balance of serious moments, but you can definitely still count this anime as a comedy. I’m typically not the type to watch “comedy” but this anime genuinely had me laughing out loud, while also crying and freaking out right alongside the main character. The main guy is super great because he’s just this shy and sweet middle schooler, and it’s really interesting watching him balance trynna have a normal life while also using his powers for good and such. Apparently the anime was decently faithful to the manga and there’s apparently enough material for a third season so I’d be pretty stoked for a season 3, but season 2 ended on a pretty good spot and was satisfying. TBH, if I had the time, I’d probably rewatch both seasons and bump it up to a 10/10.

6. Vinland Saga

This anime is just the first season of what I hopes to be a whole series that will be stay beautifully and faithfully adapted from the manga. As someone who read very far into the manga (but quit like years ago simply because I hate slow updates lol), I actually didn’t enjoy watching the anime at first. I was impatient and kept waiting for when like the “major” events would happen. So I watched like three episodes and quit. But when I had some free time, I decided to get stuck in and commit to watching the whole series and I was so pleasantly surprised with just how good it was. I was impatient but I needed to realize that there is no “filler” or like “wasted time” in the entire anime. I hadn’t read the manga in years, so so many things were only vaguely familiar but I think this helped me stay surprised and excited throughout the anime. I’m looking forward to the rest of the manga being adapted because it’s just a good Viking saga lolol. Major themes of stuff like growing up, violence vs. peace, what it means to be a good person, etc. Lots of blood and LOTS of violence like a LOT they are VIKINGS CMON but tbh not really any gore which I liked cuz gore makes me ughhhh. A very good watch and only a taste of an excellent story.

7. Demon Slayer

It’s just Demon Slayer duhhh. Of course this a 9/10 for me. I don’t wanna write much just cuz the show is so popular. Just read a REAL review of this anime somewhere else lmaoooo. Also yes I did watch the movie in theaters and yes I liked it a lot as well mmkay. I’m mad hype for season two. My S/O doesn’t like Demon Slayer as much as me, but also has Hunter x Hunter as their all time favorite anime. Do with that information what you will lolol.

8. Attack on Titan Season 3 Part 2

Same shit as Demon Slayer. Just go read someone else’s review about why it’s so good lol. Also, unlike Mob Psycho 100, I can’t include all of the seasons in this, because I have very various opinions about how good/bad the other seasons were. But this season 3 part 2, was just plain and simply amazing. While I might not like each season equally, as a whole Attack on Titan is also a modern masterpiece of storytelling. Read the manga if you can.

9. Great Pretender

I love this anime so much. Such a good and fun wild ride. The whole show is ridiculous but in a fun way. I’m a HUGE fan of heist films, so of course I absolutely enjoyed a heist anime. I’ve watched this show in sub AND dub, due to the fact that everyone is “technically” speaking English the entire time. If you’re a purist, just watch in sub OR dub cuz I did get confused here and there, especially when I would go back to compare language discrepancies. Because basically I did this super high maintenance thing where I switched back to Japanese whenever the main character had flashbacks, since he’s ya know, Japanese. The dub also has this confusing thing where the first five minutes or so are still in Japanese, but switches to English when a little cue card on the screen goes “For the Viewers sake, everything from now on will be translated to Japanese.” It’s cuz in the sub, the inverse obviously happens where the characters are initially speaking broken English to each other, but for convenience sake, everything from that point on will be in Japanese. It’s confusing at first but I liked it cuz it just proved the whole international vibe of the show. It’s funny either sub or dub when they joke about how bad the main guy speaks English, cuz in the dub he’s speaking perfect English, while the sub has him not speaking English at all. But anyway, great anime that WOULD have gotten a 10/10 if not for the last episode. Like without spoiling ... WTF WAS THAT LMAOOOO. The anime as a whole is super wacky and zany but at least I could try to think it’s real life, but that last episode was just so unbelievable and bizarre and pulled my suspension of disbelief into the STRATOSPHERE that I just had to convince myself that this show takes place in some improbable alternate reality where something like what happened in the last episode is at least 5 percent possible CUZ HOW DID ANY OF THAT WORK LMAOOO??? Once again, great show, one of my absolute favorites, BUT THAT ENDING THOUGH WTF.

10. BNA

Good super underrated anime that I don’t hear people talk about at all. If Beastars is anime Zootopia, then BNA is Disney Beastars lmaooo does that make sense? It’s a lot more fun and zany than Beastars and I liked it way more. Made by the same people who made Kill la Kill. I really like that more classic, animated “cheap” art style that the anime has, and I also really liked the plot of the story. Not a 10/10 cuz the show does leave a few unanswered questions at the end of it, but this show was such a fun and interesting ride. When I finished the last episode, I was left with a big smile on my face because I just genuinely enjoyed this anime. Recommended if you wanna watch something a little unique and more on the silly and wack side. Talks about some serious stuff, but luckily the show never takes itself TOO seriously, and remains overall lighthearted for a fun action/sci-fi show.

#bna #attack on titan #parasyte #anime review #myanimelist #great pretender #demon slayer #vinland saga #mob psycho 100 #anime #fullmetal alchemist #terror in resonance #magic kaito

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pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

don’t need ur love (m)

❥ pairing: ot7/reader

❥ warnings: some vague descriptions of sex, just really angsty sorry :(

❥ based on this prompt: bts being in a relationship with y/n but then slowly all of them fell out of love with her and with another girl. from @/armyforlifelove :”)

❥ summary: four lessons on love.

❥ notes: exams are finally over so i’m super excited to share my upcoming projects soon <3 i hope you enjoy this little ficlet and lmk what you think!

One. Love is fickle.

There is not one boy, there are seven.

“Jimin, I’m not angry. I don’t blame you. You don’t feel the same for me anymore. I accept that. I can’t do anything about it, and I’m not going to sink down and beg you to love me. I know my own worth. I am worth loving, I am worth being cherished and treasured.” You give his cheek one last fond pat, smiling lopsidedly as you pick up the handle of your suitcase.

His lips are downturned, eyebrows pinched and body stiff.

They watch with mirroring expressions of guilt and sorrow as you give the place a final, lingering sweep. But there is also relief and gratitude. You have never been the petty type, never been vindictive. You have always been the mature one, the fun one, the level-headed one.

You say, “Thank you for the memories. I’ll see you around.”

Jimin opens his mouth, like he’s ready to apologize again, but all that comes out is an uncertain, “You too.”

The penthouse is the same as always, clothes scattered on couches and loveseats and hung over the dining table chairs. Yeontan’s toys lying in a pile next to his little bed. Your mug, your clothes, your books and papers, they’re all gone. It’s like you were never here.

The door shuts quietly.

You fall in love in summer.

They pluck you from the crowd, these gorgeous boys, and they carve a space in your heart and fill it with them, until your chest feels so full and warm.

You’re happy for a long time. Winters pass. Spring blooms, so lovely and sweet and it makes your nose itch. They’re soft and kind and their touch is reverent, sometimes bold and daring and always loving.

Then it stops.

He’s distant, shifty-eyed and avoids you like the plague. Slowly, they all become just as detached. And you realize.

Time’s up.

He cries and cries and begs for forgiveness, he buries his face in your stomach and his hands are shaky and cold. He’s sorry, he sobs. He’s sorry he fell in love with someone else.

Yeah, you think. You’re sorry too, because you could have saved yourself from it if you’d only looked hard enough.

Taehyung is the only one that stays with you that night. You send Jimin away, too anguished and defeated to comfort him.

He’s the last one, the one whose heart still flutters when he talks to you, touches you. But you know. You know that eventually, he will leave too.

He kisses your tears away and he holds you close, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally fall into fitful sleep, and his stomach hurts, hurts so much with the way you’re curled into him, so small and fragile, clutching at his shirt as your eyes flicker with whatever dream you’re having.

And he swears he’ll never let you go, never betray you.

“It didn’t break me. How could it? I loved them so much, yes, but this isn’t the end. It’s not the be all end all. It can’t be. I believe that there’s more out there.” You stare into the dark contents of your drink, your reflection rippling across the surface as you trace the handle absently.

The person across from you watches you with a startlingly intense gaze, fingers crossed as they lean in, arms braced on the table.

“It was like … there was a bullet to my heart and a hole in my chest, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night drowning in anguish and tears burning in my eyes and cheeks wet. Sometimes it’s a struggle to breathe when I think of them, when I do something that reminds me so vividly of them.”

Two. Love is painful.

There were seven boys, now there is only one.

You press your forehead against his. Your voice is soft, your breath is warm and your words are sweet. He thinks he’s dying. Your ache is palpable, your grief burns, lighting a dull pain travels, throbbing and expanding, at the base of his spine.

“It’s weird because it’s not like you wake up one day with this sudden revelation that you’ve fallen out of love. It happens slowly, over a period of time, when the things you did before and the things you liked about your partner no longer holds the same charm. Suddenly, the small things that had made you fall so hard for them are annoying. Their laugh is too loud, too ugly. They leave their utensils in the sink, they forget to separate the lights with the darks They look … ordinary. Just like everyone else you pass on the street. Suddenly, they’re just … somebody. Just not somebody to you.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You loved me, and that was enough.”

He sobs out a garble that sounds like your name. He puts a hand over his face, shame and guilt overwhelming him like a tide that threatens to choke the life out of him completely.

You pry them away gently, and you kiss him. It’s wet and uncoordinated, lips slick and salty with your mingled tears.

You stumble into the bedroom, and he presses you against the mattress, hands heavy and hot as he makes love to you one last time. He pours everything into it, everything you’ve been through together, everything he feels for you. Slowly, slowly, because he’s saying goodbye. For real this time, because he can never look back without this weight of failure and guilt.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he chants, like a broken record, he sears the movement of his lips into your skin and you bear the scar even as you close the chapter for good.

Three. Love changes you.

“But then it starts to fade. The hurt, it lessens with every day that passes. The tightness in your chest loosens and the world starts to regain some of its colour, your body begins to stomach more, your taste buds remind you that food can taste brilliant.”

You find retain old habits and find new hobbies. You reconnect with old friends, make new ones. You go out for dinner, drinks, dessert, the movies, to their houses for barbeque, the skating rink, rollerblading, the occasional club. Not all at once, never in quick succession, but you go when called, go when you ask.

You are reminded that you still have a life outside of the all-consuming romance.

You learn how to draw the perfect wing, you shop, you redecorate, you work, and at the end of the year, you take a two-week vacation to travel somewhere new. You take pictures, write stories, finish your thesis and you graduate.

You enjoy your life.

You still see them, on billboards, TV shows, concerts, YouTube videos, articles, your friends buzz with news about them, at first hesitantly and apologetically, now eagerly and excitedly.

You are proud of them, of where they’ve come, where they are, who they are and what they’ve accomplished. They are an inspiration, legends, and you are grateful to have shared a part of your life with them, to have been born in the same era as them, because this universe makes no mistakes.

And you move on.

You are living.

Four. Love is worth it.

It is worth every tear, the anger and sorrow, the loss and the sacrifice.

And sometimes, the world works in mysterious ways.

Sometimes, you go full circle, only to end up where you should have been from the very beginning.

“Is it too late, have we been through too much, have I lost you? Is it unfair for me to ask if we could start again? The moment you left, I knew … I knew I’d given up something good. Something beautiful and I wasn’t ready to commit, couldn’t see all that I had in front of me. I was foolish, I was … a coward.” He reaches out to touch your hand gingerly, barely a graze, gauging your expression. You don’t move, and he curls his fingers over your palm.

“I thought … I thought that it was natural for me to follow, I thought I felt something for her, but I was wrong, I was so wrong. God, you have no idea how much I hated myself for hurting you like that. I … I love you, I have loved you all this time, and I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you hold me, the way you touch me, the way you can comfort me with just your presence. I miss the way you loved me. I missed … you. I miss the colour of your soul.”

“So, I was wondering. If it isn’t too late, if we haven’t been through too much, if I haven’t lost all of you yet, would it be fair to ask you to start over again with me?” His warmth is familiar, his eyes are a burnished gold and the truth is, you are strangers. So much time has passed, he looks a ghost from the past, he talks like him, walks like him, still hates bitter things like him, but he’s not him anymore. You know this because his expression is wiser, he has looked in the mirror and found himself and he is ready to try again. To do better, to dare to become someone better.

But is it too late? Are you ready for the risk of your heart being broken all over again?

Isn’t life a game of risk and reward?

You squeeze his hand gently. “I would like that.”

Taehyung beams. His smile is still boxy, his jaw line sharper, silky hair permed, and it flops over his forehead. He looks older, is older. He pushes the black locks back and strokes his thumb over your knuckles. He’s more comfortable in his own skin, you think his chest is wider, shoulders broader.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #taehyung smut #ggukienet #poly bts #bts angst #taehyung angst

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monoxidecahedron · 3 years

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drunk on you (julian bashir x elim garak)

wrote a thing for deep space nine (because garashir my beloved), it's long, so i broke it up into two parts. here's the first one, it's 2k words and tw for blood mention, other than that it should be fine! enjoy!

“Mister Garak,” Julian Bashir slurs, leaning against said man’s couch, “has anyone ever told you how very precious you are?”

Garak tilts his head in that Cardassian way of his and gently pulls the bottle of kanar out of his drinking partner’s grip. “I do believe you’ve had enough, Doctor. You of all people should know how potent this sort of drink is in Humans.”

Julian offers him a loopy grin. “Aw, come on, Garak, it’s only two glasses, I’m fine,” he protests. His point is undermined by the fact that he keeps swaying unsteadily as he sits cross-legged on the couch cushion, not bothering to try and stabilize himself. Garak presses his lips together and tries to put on an exasperated expression. He thinks he does fairly well- in any other case it would’ve been impeccable acting, but the glass of kanar he’s already had makes the amusement he’s feeling shine through a little more than he’d like.

His friend doesn’t notice, lost in the alcohol and too busy further destabilizing himself, giggling as he tilts closer and closer to Garak next to him. “Whoa,” he mutters as he tips out of balance, twisting at the last moment and landing with his head in Garak’s lap. Garak freezes, and he has the odd urge to slowly raise his hands in a placating gesture, as if to demonstrate he doesn’t mean this beautiful creature in his lap any harm.

He doesn’t. There isn’t much reason to, anyways. They’re alone in his quarters- no one to be suspicious of him except, of course, himself- and it’s not like he’d hurt Julian anyways. Or want to. The man himself doesn’t seem very worried; in fact, there’s a fond look in his eyes, an adoring, trusting, almost-loving sort of look that he hasn’t seen directed at himself in a while. People look at him, yes, but always with fear or distrust or hatred tainting their expressions. Take your pick of reasons- Tain’s man, Obsidian agent, Cardassian, rumoured spy- but it’s always there, lurking beneath a thin veneer of politeness (or, more likely, outright glaring, veneer nonexistent).

Julian, though. Julian Bashir has always trusted him, from the moment he sat across from him in the Replimat to the time Garak raged and flipped tables at him to now, alone with him and drunk and vulnerable and feeling totally, utterly safe. It almost makes him uncomfortable, seeing the extent to which Julian trusts him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows the doctor’s illusions of his mysterious but altogether clean past would shatter upon hearing of even the most irrelevant of errands he ran for the Order. Still, even with no small amount of guilt, he savors the kind curve of Julian’s mouth when he catches sight of his Cardassian friend.

Julian, not bothering to get off Garak’s lap, giggles and reaches up. He almost flinches away instinctively, but all Julian does is tap his nose once. “Boop,” he says with yet another giggle. Garak raises an eyeridge.

“And what, exactly, does that mean, Doctor?”

“Nothing.”

“I see,” Garak says, leaning back against the couch and looking around the rest of the room, content to sit in silence for a while.

“No- wait, it’s an Earth thing,” Julian says hurriedly, as if Garak had threatened him.

“Ah, I believe I’ve heard of it,” he responds absentmindedly, reaching down to thread his fingers through Julian’s hair.

“You’re lying,” Julian pouts. His mood suddenly turns serious, and he peers intently at him. “Why do you always lie to me, Garak?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t take it personally, my dear,” he says. He’s vaguely aware that he keeps forgetting to add “Doctor”, but at the moment Julian is warm in his lap and his mind is foggy and he can’t bring himself to deny this simple affection. “It’s simply a habit of mine.”

Julian hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. He makes a grab for the kanar bottle, still in Garak’s other hand, and sits up, taking another drink before the bottle’s taken away again.

Garak, kanar in hand again, chides, “ Julian. You really should stop,” but for once he feels relatively safe and isn’t cycling through all the reasons he should stay far, far away from the Doctor and the tangled mess of feelings that come with him and so he tips the bottle up.

He sighs afterward, setting the bottle on the coffee table in front of him with a satisfying clunk , other hand still in Julian’s hair. Julian’s got a face full of anguish when he looks down at him, and Garak tilts his head, inviting him to explain. He shakes his head, but a moment later he lets out a long breath and says, “He annoys me so much.”

Garak laughs. “There’s a lot of men who annoy you, Doctor. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Julian goes on as if he never heard him. “Really, though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s splendid, you know?” He gestures wildly on splendid, somehow managing to smack Garak in the face and nearly overturn the kanar bottle sitting on his coffee table. “So mysterious.”

Garak, clenching his jaw against the bitter taste of jealousy, manages to get out an “I see”, but it doesn’t really matter; Julian’s far gone at this point and continues to ignore him, lost in thoughts of this mystery man.

“He doesn’t love me,” he says, giving Garak heartbroken puppy eyes. “He doesn’t love me… he said he hated me, once. He was lying. I think. He always lies but he doesn’t lie sometimes and it’s so confusing- Garak, it’s so confusing. ”

“He doesn’t sound all that nice.”

“He isn’t, really- he’s nice to me, though. Makes me feel nice.”

“That’s nice, then.” Even with years of Obsidian training, it’s still a concerted effort to keep his voice steady. Damn Federaji , damn Humans, damn this particular Federaji Human with his honeyed smile and his charming naivete and his slender body and his brilliant fucking arguments and-

“He’s brilliant, did you know?”

“You seem to have forgotten you still haven’t told me who he is, dear,” Garak says. It’s an indulgement he can’t help but allow himself. He’s lost his Doctor; what’s one little word?

“I don’t know who he is, either.” Garak makes a questioning face. “I don’t know if he knows who he is either. He’s kind of lost. Stuck.”

“Ah.”

“It’s a sad thought.”

“That your-” he pauses for a second- “that he’s stuck?” He feels silly, trying to talk to an obviously drunk, in-his-head Julian who keeps ignoring him. He might as well have put on a movie and tried to talk to the characters.

“Most people have never heard their friends’ actual voice,” Julian says. Garak pauses, considering. It’s an interesting sort of thing to think about, if (as Julian said) a bit sad.

“I learned Kardasi for him,” he continues. And that’s even more interesting- this man speaks Kardasi? He dismisses a thought before it can form. Some aren’t worth entertaining, even for a moment; hope is a dangerous thing, flighty and tempting and ultimately disappointing, and he isn’t such a fool as to invite that sort of creature into his head.

“I learned it for him,” Julian repeats. “It’s a very nice language, you know. Very interesting. I speak it to my friends and no one notices. He didn’t notice either.” So he talks to the mystery man. Hm. He starts to analyse the information, mind almost subconsciously going through the steps and piecing together what he knows. So far, very little.

“Tell me about this man,” he says.

Julian gives him a little head-tilt. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve been telling you about him,” he says. Garak can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if alcohol makes him more of a little shit than usual. It’s certainly making himself more impatient.

“I mean that I don’t know who this man is, and if you’ll excuse my bluntness, I would like to know,” he says shortly.

Understanding seems to dawn in Julian’s eyes. “Oops.” Scale-less arms wrap around his neck and he pulls himself up and before he’s got a chance to think bad idea bad idea bad idea soft lips are on his and suddenly all he can think is OH! and Julian’s kissing him harder and maybe the Humans were on to something with their kissing because dear god it’s so good and he leans closer and Julian hums against him and

crash

He’s on the floor, rubbing at his shoulder, at the place where Garak shoved him away. “Garak-”

“Out.”

His eyes widen. “Garak, I’m so sorry,” he says, but his words are slurred and bad idea bad idea bad idea is rushing through and he gets up off the couch ( my dear Cardassia what have I done ) and picks Julian up and goes for the door ( damage control damage control ).

“No- Garak- wait- no don’t leave me I’m sorry we can talk about it-” the door slides open with that same mechanical beep-whoosh as he approaches- “Garak, please- you can’t just leave me out here-”

“I can and I will, Doctor,” he grits out. “You’re drunk. Go home.” Bashir is set down just outside his door.

“Garak- Garak wait- no-” the door starts to slide shut again- “Elim!”

whoosh-click.

He sighs heavily, leaning against it, head in his hands.

bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea

The pieces of the kanar bottle are sharp as he picks them up off the floor. Julian’s momentum had knocked it against the opposite wall, shattering it, breaking it beyond repair just as surely as he’d broken any semblance of camaraderie between them, and now they lie glimmering in the window's meagre light. He can’t simply leave the pieces on the floor, jagged and dangerous- can’t keep seeing Bashir, all of our usual engagements will have to go, and then some- and so he picks them up, slowly, even though they slide against his palm when he closes it around them, edges breaking skin when he shifts the wrong way ( it’ll hurt, yes, but I can deal with it, I can deal with it, I’ll have to deal with it ). He can’t feel it, can’t feel much over the roaring in his head- Tain’s voice, of course it’s Tain’s voice, it’s always Tain’s voice- you knew this would happen, it’s your fault, you knew you shouldn’t have gotten closer to him don’t be so selfish now look what you’ve done. He’s gone and deluded himself into wanting someone like you and he’ll never have happiness and it’s your fault your fault your

There’s a sharp pain and the feeling of cold blood trickling down his hand. The glass piece slides out of his grip and lands on the carpet, dripping in the stuff and staining the carpet.

He huffs. Control, Elim. Control is the key. The memories seem to dissipate as he shakes his head, along with Tain’s admonishments.

There’s a knock at his door. Doctor Bashir. He’s the only person who actually knocks, like the Humans used to in the old days before automated doors. He’s also the only person who’d want to come see him in his quarters. “I’m not here!” Garak calls.

There’s a thump that sounds suspiciously like a human fist hitting the door in frustration, a groan, and then Bashir calls, “Let me in, Garak! I just want to talk!”

Unfortunately for the doctor, talking is the last thing he wants to do. Bashir keeps yelling, desperation seeping into his voice, but he simply turns and continues picking up more pieces of the glass bottle. There’s a flash of pain and then cold blood dripping from a fresh cut ( go talk to him, what the fuck are you doing, he wants you, go out there and just take him ) and he shakes his head, sighing, but he tips the piece into the bag he’s using to hold them all because he can’t just leave them on the floor ( the fuck do you mean just go out there and take him you can’t do that you’d destroy him, you know it, you and all your secrets and your cruelty would crush his bright-eyed smile ) and it’s always the harsher voices that are loudest but this one’s right. He can’t give in to the man outside his door, has to not be selfish for once in his entire bloodstained life and so he just keeps going, collecting cuts as he handles the edges of what used to be a beautiful, whole bottle and grits his teeth against the sting.

Eventually, footsteps sound, padding away from his door, and he sighs and slumps against the edge of the coffee table. It digs into his back scales uncomfortably, but he can't bring himself to move.

...

hooray! tumblr didn't kill my formatting (i think)! part two will be up soon, i pinky promise i'll deliver this time i swear it. comments fuel my soul and my writing if you reblog i am legally required to love you forever same goes for comments x

#star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #st:ds9 #garashir #fanfic #my writing

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monkey-network · 4 years

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Why Shrek IS The Best

Tastes can change, you know? And it’s less about “What’s good about this now compared to before”, more of “Why would you like this now as opposed to before”? Unless allergic, you didn’t get why dark cola or hot chips tasted bad to you as a child, but when you grow up you can come to understand and appreciate it. Shouldn’t pressure yourself, that makes things worse, but things can certainly align in helping this newfound respect you get for something you’d believe you would never want again. That really is where I stand with Dreamworks’ Shrek. As a kid, while Toy Story left me traumatized for a while, Shrek left me side-eyeing with how crass and ugly it looked and I never wanted to think of it. But, as I grew up to respect animation a lot more, 2018 was where I looked back at Shrek and soon come to understand how wrong I was and how much greatness it has that I now consider it an all time great. And with it getting inducted into the Library of Congress, I thought it was finally time to present what I see in this film. Let’s do this right with...

The SOMEBODY

Now this frame has been meme’d to death. If there’s anything iconic about this film, ‘bout the franchise as a whole, it’s the exact moment when our main character charges out of his outhouse as Smash Mouth’s ‘All Star’ gets going. But this honestly just says a lot about Dreamworks’ direction from its previous films where compared to Disney that’ll take their time making the setup before getting into the hype point for its lead, Shrek gets going in one minute if we don’t count the logo intro. Not even The Emperor’s New Groove, which was going for the same tone before Shrek even released, took more of it’s time with the fairy tale aspect of it in its intro. Shrek literally wipes his ass with the fairy tale aspect before giving us the SOMEBODY, all around a minute. This frame really shows that this is sticking to the Disney formula in some way because it’s wasting no time getting into it. It represents the more brisk pace Shrek has with pulling you into what it’s gonna be about. This overall frame works in its thematic and parody aspect and I’ve yet to see anything top this exact moment, not even the greatest films I’ll ever remember.

But enough about the fact that I made a whole paragraph about this one frame of the movie. Let’s dive into what I say is a piece of the heart for this film.

The Earnestness

Speaking of Disney, you probably notice that their films have some cushioning in their presentation, like they generally don’t show things with a straightforward lens; there’s some theatrics in the way their best movies present themselves. That’s not a problem, mind you, but that helped me understand how Shrek does things very differently whether you consider it parody or not. While it throws mockery at the played out conventions associated with fairy tales, especially its most subtle jab at copyright, it doesn’t full on say fairy tales are annoying and bad. Hell, the film IS a fairy tale adapted from a fairy tale about a fookin’ OGRE that can eat lightning and kills with farts. But, it’s an accurate and earnest way to view a fairy tale from a somewhat realistic lens. Let’s take Shrek’s journey for instance.

Typically, the main character would want to experience something more; explore new horizons, prove themselves, find their calling. Shrek off the bat doesn’t need or desire any of that. He’s content with his life, beside the angry mob he casually scares off, and throughout the film he’s not interested in anything else outside getting the squatters out his swamp. He happily makes a deal with the villain of the film to exile those innocent refugees off his land so he could then build a wall to keep everybody out. Bringing up Emperor’s New Groove again, Shrek and Kuzco are the few characters I know that are actively antagonistic even when they’re forced into their situation from outside forces. However unlike Kuzco that gets to be emperor again but learns humility, Shrek is in the same spot as before but learns that there are people out here that can love him for who he is. I can’t say there’s anything grand about that, but it doesn’t need to be unlike the many Disney or any film that tries to shower you with the grandest themes. The relationships Shrek has with Donkey and Fiona are the most grounded I’ve ever seen because they’re not only natural, they’re hardly dolled up with the bells and whistles made to either drum up the biggest laughs or tug the heart strings viciously. When I think about it, I honestly could see myself in Shrek. He isn’t made to be a legend, he isn’t some secret genius or lost prince, he’s just an every-man ogre that wants to live peacefully or meet SOMEBODY that doesn’t treat as someone to be feared or disgusted at. Everything Shrek says is something anybody could or would say if they were his shoes because he, and the film in general, is the most grounded without making it all distractedly meta or genre-savvy. This is generally helped by...

The Dounkaey

Everyone’s talked about how Donkey is the best confidant for Shrek and Fiona. How he’s most true to himself to where he’s the most openly musical character in the film, and how he’s the most balanced here with his comedic vs serious moments. But I gotta say it too: Donkey is one of the greatest sidekicks ever. He’s a motormouth, but is never annoying to where you wish he left the film. The couple times he is purposefully annoying, not for a joke, is when he knows Shrek isn’t being truthful. He truly gets to know Shrek on this journey, and is the character Shrek gets to capacity to actually loosen up to, so it’s fitting that he’d be the one to push Shrek when the ogre’s sounding more vague than usual. Even when he’s harshly insulted, Donkey doesn’t take it as bad as when Shrek kept trying to shut him out again in the 3rd act after the Hallejulah sequence which is the scene in every Shrek movie where’s there a super sad song because Shrek is alone and yadda ya. I’ll get to it in a bit, but he is as much responsible in providing Fiona that seed of doubt that Shrek wouldn’t love her as the ogre she is. Donkey is the greatest friend because he wants to be there for those who are okay with him being around, and while you could give and take sidekick animals in your notable films with them in it, this film really wouldn’t have happened without him. Speaking of Fiona, I won’t retread what’s been said before like with Donkey but I did want to bring up something I haven’t seen many talk about,,,

The Love for An Ogre

I’ve seen many say the scene where Shrek overhears Fiona talk about “Who could love an ugly beast?” and misinterprets that as her talking about him as a cliched or contrived downside to the film, but I feel that a defense can be made. It personally makes sense that Shrek would misinterpret that and take it personally because 1) Who else would Fiona be talking about? 2) How would he know she was talking with Donkey? 3) Why would he just barge in on her? 4) Has no one considered that this moment is parallel to when Fiona overhears Shrek’s conversation with Donkey the night before?

Fiona is very much the antithesis to Shrek’s character where she can very much be open about what she wants but is scared at the idea of anyone figuring out who she really is. She’ll gladly be gross, kick ass, eat the young of a bird she let explode, but won’t let anyone see her true face. That’s why her curse makes sense, and why Shrek would take a fondness to her despite her initial disdain of him rescuing her. Fiona’s a character where the surface level beauty is her weakness as opposed to Shrek where it’s internal. Which is why when she overhears Shrek open up to Donkey about his societal isolation, she’s soon more comfortable around him. And it’s why when she opens up to Donkey about her looks, Shrek would unfortunately take it personal enough. I ask again, why would Shrek barge in on a conversation he wasn’t aware of or who she was talking about to not take it about anything else but him when what he heard such a cut so deep, especially from a character that bears his similar issues? It also helps that Donkey was in on it, as Shrek feels reasonably betrayed by the only other person he’s come to appreciate in his life. Contrived as it seems, it’s thematically important and appropriate to the conflict of Shrek’s character and the film overall. Don’t know how this could be conveyed any other way because it adds up at least.

I just wanna know how Shrek got to Faarquard’s and back by sunrise like did he run cuz that looked like a huge distance to travel on foot but anyways...

I’m sure things could’ve worked out if Shrek knew, either by barging in that night or through Donkey, but I think it’s fitting that the climax takes place at the wedding. After Shrek and Donkey understand their friendship, after Donkey reciprocates the Dragon’s love (more ways than one), and when Shrek grasps the mistake he made to charge over to Fuccquad’s chapel, we get to...

The End

After everything, we get to the moment where Shrek and Fiona get to share their first kiss, Fiona permanently transforms into an ogre, and we get this exchange. One of my favorite exchanges in the whole film:

Shrek: “Are you all right?” Fiona: “Well yes. But I don’t understand... I’m supposed to be beautiful.”

Shrek: “But you ARE beautiful”

We don’t need any other vows to understand their relationship was built up to this. This moment where Shrek can reaffirm Fiona’s feelings of being able to be herself in every way, because she allowed him to be himself in every way before. That’s that mutual love, baby, that just gets me every time and makes this film one of the best romance stories I know as well, even when it isn’t solely about the romance. This is Shrek’s story, and there’s nothing more touching than seeing this outcast not only get another to view him as a friend, not only someone to love, but people, if only a couple, to actually wanted to get to know him. I know Shrek 2 expands on this more, and it’s considered a golden sequel, but I will always cherish the first movie for how much it tells us off the bat while appearing as a “Take That” to Disney films. This is the genesis of Shrek feeling more accepted for himself and society and it just bears so much good commentary while being a good adventure nonetheless. Like you could say this film indeed has... dimensions? “You were trying to meme about la-”

The Conclusion

Mentioning it, I always had this thought with the conversation Shrek and Donkey had of why Shrek didn’t just “be an ogre” and pillage Fuccnut’s fortress. It’s possible Shrek could’ve taken out Faarquid himself, but that would mean being the beast he knows people have shunned him for, grabbed the torches and pitchfolks for, made him feel worse for. Shrek enjoys being an ogre, but he doesn’t like how society makes him feel lesser as an ogre. That really is what the four films have been about for him and what I’ve come to appreciate about these films personally. It can be easy to love yourself even when there are others out here that stand against you, but it’s hard to consider that anyone else could love you for who you are in spite of how you try to present yourself. But if there’s anything Shrek showed me, it’s that it’s possible. There can/will be people out here who appreciate the real you, will be there as much as you want to for them, and can help you realize more about yourself as opposed to suffering to silence eternally. Generally ideal, I know, but this film in the least offered me that thought in the most balanced way possible. It’s incredible how much of a tightrope this film has in its parody and sincerity and that makes its induction in the National Film Registry and being the first ever Best Animated Award winner pretty justified all things considered.

I know this film, the character, has been a meme over the years. As Schaffrillas mentions in his video, the direction Dreamworks made because of Shrek’s success kinda turned it into a heel people clowned on because, in theory, it was nothing but a joke with the onions and the swamp and IT’S NEVER OGRE. Then again, like I said in the beginning, tastes change. I’d say with Schaff’s masterful analyses on the film series and 3GI’s Shrek Retold and Shrekfest, the perception of the film sure enough shifted like the perception of Megamind. It’s one thing for a movie to blow people away or leave them thinking it’s horrible beyond belief, it’s another to take the time to then look back and see how those feelings have changed. For Shrek, it’s a film that was able to trudge out of the meme era to be a film many consider a strong, rewatchable, and unique. Like the beauty of Spongebob, Shrek is a considered a classic because as in the times as it appeared when it released, this film actually stood on its own with the most enjoyable and meaningful timelessness, exploring the desired love for the self, that deserves to be recognized. What else can I say, people?

It’s The Best

#Shrek #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #animation #movies #cartoons #reviews #analysis #long post #Good Stuff

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cakesunflower · 4 years

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Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 8

A/N: apologies that it took me over a month to update this fic!! but now i’m done with college (big yikes) so now i can get back to writing and updating on a semi regular basis :-)

“Josie—got a cutie waiting for you in the front.” Josie glanced up at Sarah’s words, pulled out of her conversation with Lizzie as she swiveled in the leather salon chair at one of her stations. Her eyes caught sight of Calum leaning against the desk, her eyes immediately meeting his as he raised two fingers up in a wave.

Josie excused herself from Lizzie, walking down the length of the salon with her eyebrows raised and a surprised smile curling at her lips, not expecting him to drop by. “Hey,” she greeted with a small laugh, glancing at the receptionist, Maddie. “I’m gonna step out real quick.”

Maddie hummed in response and Josie grasped Calum’s wrist, pulling him outside for some privacy. Talking amongst Los Angeles pedestrian traffic was better than in front of all her coworkers, even if they were some of the chillest people she’d ever met. The sun was bright, as always, and Josie let out a laugh as Calum pressed her against the brick wall next to the window of the salon. “Hi—what’re you doing here?” Josie greeted.

Calum smiled, his frame shielding Josie from the sun as he gripped her hips. “Wanted to see you real quick and ask you somethin’,” he responded, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Josie inhaled sharply as she kissed him back, the smile evident on her lips. When they pulled away, Calum raised a hand to curl his finger around a stray lock of her blonde hair, his grin never leaving at Josie’s curious expression. Brushing his nose against hers, voice dropping low, Calum asked, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Josie’s heart jumped at his words, her grin widening as his finger brushed along her cheek. Her own hand had reached up to play with the chain around his neck, an accessory she thought he worked unfairly well, as she bit down on her grinning lip. Her cheeks were already hurting from the grin on her face, excitement coursing through her veins. She felt silly, being so thrilled with the simple question Calum asked her, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t one she had been waiting for.

“I would love to,” Josie responded, feeling a warmth spread in her cheeks under Calum’s gaze. She kind of loved how he so easily made her blush.

“Great,” Calum smirked, hips pressing against hers. “You’re off tomorrow, right?” Josie nodded with a hum. “Alright—I’ll pick you up at your room at five.”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Five?” Josie asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “It’s a bit early for dinner, isn’t it?” She normally ate at seven, years of classes interfering with her schedule having an effect on when she ate.

“Not for what I’ve got in mind.” Calum chuckled, winding his arms around her waist to keep her close. “None of that dinner and a movie bullshit. I got somethin’ planned for us.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before murmuring, “Alright, get back to work.”

Josie smiled, pressing her hands to his chest, reluctant to move away from him. But right before she did, her smile turned coy. “Just so you know—I’d totally be fine with a dinner and movie with you.”

He grinned as she pulled away, heading back to the door. “Noted.”

For the rest of her shift at work, Josie couldn’t help but think Calum was a bit of a tease. She loved that he had been impatient enough to arrive at the salon to ask her on a date in person, loved the few kisses they stole before she had to go back inside. But concentrating on her next few clients had proven to be difficult, to busy trying to school her features to hide the wide grin that threatened to erupt at the mere thought of going on a date with Calum. Her excitement buzzed at her veins, crackling like electricity, and she wondered what he had planned for the two of them.

Later that night, when Luke was in his bedroom getting ready to turn in for the night, Josie was leaving the kitchen to go into her own when Calum entered the living room, his shift for the day a short one. Josie’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of him, making sure the water didn’t spill from her glass as she quickly ran over to him and grasped his hand.

“Can I get a hint for where we’re going tomorrow?” she asked with a sweet smile, looking up at him with big blue eyes in hopes to get him to give in.

But Calum knew how to handle Josie. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, lips curling up to grin as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. “Not happenin’, sweetheart,” he responded, making Josie’s lips fall into a pout. “Just don’t wear heels.”

Josie scoffed, gaping up at him. “That’s so vague, Calum.”

He moved past her, a ghost of a smirk apparent as he took off the cushions on the couch in preparation to pull out the bed. As Josie walked over to help him, he pointed out, “At least you know it’s not fancy.”

Josie didn’t hesitate in taking one of the cushions and throwing it at Calum with a huff. He merely laughed, catching it easily before it hit him and placing it on the ground. “You’re the worst,” she declared, fixing his pillow before walking around the bed to head up the stairs to turn in for the night.

Behind her, she could hear the smile in Calum’s voice as he asked, “What, no goodnight kiss?”

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Calum’s face scrunched, eyebrows drawing together and lips pulling downwards as he scoffed. “Yes.” Josie watched him, fighting off the amused smile that threatened to grow as he approached her, his dark eyes never leaving her blue. “All this sneaking around, keeping my hands to myself so we don’t get caught? Fuck yeah, I deserve a damn goodnight kiss,” he grunted.

She couldn’t fight the grin that split across her face, only for it to be obscured by Calum’s hand placing itself on the back of her neck, using it to tug her closer as he bent down to close the gap between the two of them. Josie wasn’t about to push him away, though she still smiled against Calum’s lips as she kissed him back. He tasted like minty toothpaste and Josie was no stranger to the subtle yet exciting thrill she felt shoot down her spine at the act of so openly kissing him in her house, knowing her brother was just up the stairs.

She would much rather embrace the surge of exhilaration of sneaking around behind Luke’s back than the guilt of keeping such a secret from him.

*****

As he had said, there was a knock on Josie’s bedroom door at five in the afternoon the next day, right when she had finished tying the laces to her most comfortable pairs of red Converse. She paired it with a yellow sundress, tight around the bodice and fluttering around her mid thigh, and it consisted of small red roses that matched her shoes. Calum had said it wasn’t a fancy date, so Josie hoped her outfit choice was fitting to whatever he had planned for them.

In the couple of seconds it took for Josie to walk from her bed to the door, she did her best to tamp down on the excited flutter that had been a consistent presence in her stomach since yesterday. It was kind of funny; her and Calum were already together, obviously, but the idea on going on their first date made it seem all the more official. Like they were actually doing this—despite having been doing it for a while. Being with Calum, even though they were sneaking around, brought Josie a sense of calmness that she hadn’t experienced with another guy before. As though in the grand scheme of things, she had nothing to worry about, no reason to doubt Calum or what they had.

It was refreshing and exactly what she needed.

Him. He was exactly what she needed.

When Josie opened the door, her grin easily curled at her lips at the sight of Calum, dressed in his favorite baggy black pants, a silver belt chain looped on the side, with a white shirt tucked in and his shining black leather jacket on top. He looked casual and comfortable and so unbelievably good—if Josie lacked better control of herself, she’d melt into a puddle right then and there.

Instead, a smile graced her pink lips, leaning against her door as she playfully mused, “Well, hello there.”

His boyish charm was ever present as he returned, “I’m here to pick up a blonde bombshell.”

At that, Josie let out a very unladylike snort, pushing herself away from the door as she turned her back to him to grab her purse off the dresser. “Don’t ever call me that again,” Josie laughed, grabbing her denim jacket in case she needed it. Raising an eyebrow, hoping to filter some of the overwhelming excitement she felt, Josie asked, “We out?”

Calum grinned and the glimmer in his eyes told Josie he was just as excited, and nervous, as she was. “Yes, ma’am.”

They got in his car and were on the road just moments later, all the while Calum kept expertly shut about where they were going. After shutting her down for the sixth time, Calum scoffed before letting out a laugh, shooting her a look as he said, “You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”

Josie shot him a skeptical look as his playlist played a Coldplay song. “More than Ashton?” she questioned, the smugness seeping into her voice because she knew she wasn’t nearly as bad as their friend.

Calum scoffed, one hand on the wheel as his left elbow remained propped on the door, the window down to let in the pleasant breeze. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Josie’s jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her as she pointed at him accusingly. “That’s fucked up.”

He merely grinned, shifting so his left hand was on the wheel to allow his right hand to grab her pointing finger before maneuvering her hand so he could lace their fingers together. The gesture only widened Josie’s smile, warming her cheeks as she felt the breeze dance through her blonde tresses as Calum drove them to whatever secret destination he planned for. Josie eventually resigned herself to Calum’s desire of wanting to keep things under wraps, enjoying the car ride with him as the music played, the wind billowed in her ears and his fingers remained laced with hers.

The calm that settled over her was welcomed, enjoying the sensation of her hair tickling her skin as it danced in the wind and the warmth Calum’s touch brought. Already, Josie knew this was probably the best date she’d been on. Simply because it was with Calum.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination, and Josie’s eyebrows raised as they passed the sign that read their arrival at Lake Balboa Park as Calum pulled into a parking lot. Josie hadn’t been to Lake Balboa before, but there were barely any clouds and the branches on pretty cherry blossom trees, and as she stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching underneath her shoes, the smile was easily lifting her lips.

Especially when Calum walked to the trunk of the car, opened it, and revealed a folded blanket and, quite literally, a sizable picnic basket that had Josie’s smile widening all the more. Her lips were parted in surprise, gaze flickering so her blue eyes could meet Calum’s triumphant brown ones, and no amount of sunshine could spread warmth throughout Josie’s body like Calum did in that moment. He grabbed the blanket and tossed it at her, which Josie caught even in the midst of her shocked state, and the wide grin he wore told her he knew just how off guard he’d caught her.

“A picnic?” she asked, well aware of the answer, the excitement evident in her tone and the way her dimples deepened at her grin. It was taking a lot of willpower not to bounce on the balls of her feet. “Stop—that’s so romantic.”

Calum smirked as he shut the trunk, quirking an eyebrow as they began walking. “Why do you sound so surprised? I can be romantic,” he added with a huff.

Josie snorted, hugging the blanket to her chest as she shot Calum a look. The sarcasm was evident in her tone when she drawled, “Yeah, pushing me into the pull because Luke came home just screams romance.”

He shot her a flat look and Josie merely smiled sweetly, and though she was teasing him, she found the memory funny. It had happened only a few days ago when the two of them had been enjoying their backyard pool. At one point, they’d gotten out, were in the middle of kissing, when Luke’s loud voice announced his arrival and, in a panic, Calum had pushed Josie into the pool. When she had resurfaced, she stared at him in utter disbelief while Calum had the decency to look just as surprised at his actions.

The two of them continued down the path, greenery and flora around them and Josie was mesmerized by the sight of the lake, noticing the ducks that swam contently and the few pedal boats among them. Eventually, Calum found a nice spot under a tree right on the soft grass, the lake in front of them, and Josie smiled as she spread the blanket before the two of them settled on it.

“Alright,” Josie grinned, sitting comfortably with her legs folded beneath her, leaning back on one hand as her gaze met Calum’s. “Dazzle me with romance.”

She watched intently as Calum began pulling out the items he had packed, consisting of cloth napkins, plates, utensils, two glasses to drink the red wine—which made Josie a lot more excited than it should’ve. She then noted all of the food he brought, her eyebrows raising and lips parting at the dishes; fresh corn and tomato fettuccini, shrimp summer rolls, cut up pieces of toasted baguette, and chocolate truffles for dessert.

Holy shit. “Did you make these?” Josie asked, the awe evident in her voice as she eyed the fettuccini and shrimp rolls.

Calum’s gaze met hers and Josie saw the pride dancing in his dark eyes, smiling as he answered, “Sure did.” Then, with a smirk, he asked, “Are you dazzled yet?”

And a little bit in love, but Josie kept that fleeting thought to herself.

Instead, she leaned forward, right hand finding the back of Calum’s neck as she pulled him close, hoping her kiss would convey just how amazing all of this was, how much she appreciated it. Calum truly went out of his way to make their first date special, taking advantage of the perfect weather and putting his skills in the kitchen to use in making the food that looked and smelled delicious. There was a permanent warmth in Josie’s chest; no one had ever made such an effort for her before, and it was impossible to keep the smile off her tingling lips after she slowly pulled away from Calum.

His smile remained, brushing his nose against hers as he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Calum completed the set up by pulling out his phone and letting some music gently play as he poured them some wine before they indulged in the food he had prepared. Josie couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried as they ate, drank, talked. Her gaze never left Calum, admiring the way the sun peeked through the cherry blossom tree above them and splashed against him in certain spots, feeling like she was in the scene of a damn movie as a flower occasionally fluttered down and brushed against her skin.

Eventually, after they’d finished the delicious food Calum had made and the wine was pleasantly warming her up, Josie sat with her back against the tree and Calum’s head resting in her lap. Her fingers were running through his dark hair, the strands soft between the digits, and she admired the content smile on his face, eyes shut as he reveled in the feel of her fingers in his hair.

They’d been at the lake for over an hour or so, judging by the way the sun was slowly making its descent, but neither of them made a move to leave. Instead, Josie picked up one of the cherry blossoms that had fallen next to her, holding the pink flower by its short stem and twirling it before glancing down at Calum. With a gentle smile upturning her lips, Josie held it upside down before lowering it, tickling the tip of his nose with the petal.

She watched as his nose wrinkled, closed eyes scrunching at the sensation as his lips curled into a close mouthed smile. The peaceful expression that rested on his features transformed into an amused grin, breathing out a laugh as Josie hummed, “Thank you for today, Cal.”

He opened his eyes then, dark brown looking up into bright blue, and his smile softened. The natural pinkness in his cheeks tempted Josie to kiss them as she brushed some curls away from his forehead. Calum reach his left hand up, the silver bracelet dropping away from his wrist as he cupped Josie’s cheek. “Anythin’ for you, pretty girl,” Calum told her earnestly.

The blush returned to her cheeks, but she didn’t have much time to register it as Calum pushed himself up and brought her down enough for their lips to meet in the middle. Josie melted into him, into the kiss, and came to the conclusion if a perfect day were to exist, it would be this.

They’d watched the sunset after, and as the cicadas began chirping throughout the darkened park, the two of them packed up the picnic and, with Calum’s fingers intertwining with hers, made their way back to his car. The drive home, as always, was filled with chatter and music, and when they pulled into the driveway, Josie sat up. “Oh, Luke’s home.”

She glanced at Calum, who didn’t look troubled at all, and it wasn’t lost on Josie how his calm managed to relax her effortlessly. So the two of them got out of the car, deciding to bring in the picnic basket—the most damning evidence of their outing—later on when there was no chance of Luke catching sight of it.

Josie chewed on her lower lip, unable to stop the nervous habit, as they walked into the house, instantly catching the attention of her brother, who was on the living room couch watching TV. “Hey,” he greeted before turning to look at the two of them, eyebrows raising as a corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Where’re you coming from all dressed up—a hot date?” he joked, gazing at Josie questioningly.

She knew he was completely kidding around, but the oblivious truth in Luke’s words had Josie’s heart momentarily stopping, stomach dropping before she forced herself to scoff. “No—I was out with some friends and asked Calum to pick me up.”

It would be better if she didn’t focus on how swiftly that lie escaped her.

Next to her, Calum huffed. “What, I don’t look all dressed up?”

Josie wanted to nudge him into silence as Luke gave him a once over before offering a single shrug. “Nah,” he answered before turning to watch TV once more, unaware to the scowl that scrunched at Calum’s eyebrows, mildly affronted.

Despite herself, Josie couldn’t fight off the amused smile upturning her lips as Calum made a face at the back of Luke’s, so childish and boyish and endearing. Leaning close to him, her voice a whisper, she chanced the risk of Luke hearing her as she hummed, “I think you look hot.”

The smug smirk on Calum’s face, accompanied by the wink he sent her, made the risk worth it.

*****

“Go on without me—leave me here to explode in a mess of spaghetti sauce.”

Josie caught Luke’s bemused eye roll as the rest of the boys chuckled at her antics, though she was serious about the implication of being unable to move. She dropped down on a bench on the sidewalk, her stomach feeling heavy after the lunch she practically inhaled; the portion of spaghetti had been the size of her head, almost, and Josie had practically licked the dish clean. And although her mouth was quite happy with the delicious explosion of taste, her stomach was another issue. She genuinely felt like she couldn’t move.

And the fact that the cars were parked a few several blocks away. . . Josie didn’t think she could make it.

“Alright, Lil’ H,” Ashton spoke up, making his way to her and promptly ignoring the distasteful scrunch of her face at the nickname he’d uttered. It was one he and the rest of the boys coined for her back when they were a lot younger, and although they outgrew the use of it, there were still some instances where they’d mention it. Josie had never liked it. She watched as he stood in front of her before turning his back to her, wiggling his fingers out at the seated girl as he said, “Hop on.”

Her eyes lit up, understanding that he was offering her a piggy back ride. Not needing to be told twice, Josie got up as Ashton crouched down enough so it was easy for her to hop onto his back, arms winding loosely around his neck as his hands gripped her thighs to keep her up as he stood straight. She grinned where she was settled on his back, catching the exasperated shake of Luke’s head and the fond grins on Michael and Calum’s faces before they all continued on their way.

Moments like these made Josie a lot happier than one would think. For as long as she and Luke knew the boys, Josie had always feared that she was encroaching on her brother’s friendship with them. When they were kids and she would sometimes tag along, at first Luke had been irritated, but his fondness for Josie always won out in the end, and he’d bring her along to get food or to the park when he would go with the boys. Because of that, the rest of them grew fond of her too. It wasn’t hard, either—it wasn’t like there was years and years separating her from them in age. Only a couple, but she was still Luke’s little sister. And even though they would harmlessly tease her for that, always playful and never spiteful, there had been moments when Josie would think they were sick of her tagging along when she did.

Now, though, with all of them in their twenties, that feeling never came back. Even if it did, Josie knew that Luke would never allow for it to stay for too long. Same went for the other boys. And Josie loved them for it.

“Come to think of it—I don’t think it’s that great of an idea for you to give me a piggy back ride after eating,” Josie piped up, glancing down at Ashton with a raise of her eyebrows.

He made a noncommittal sound, utterly at ease as they continued. “It’s either this or listen to you complain—which I can totally do without.”

Josie scoffed at his teasing as she heard Calum lowly chuckle next to them. “I’ve got my arms around you, Irwin. I can easily choke you.”

She couldn’t quite see his face, but Josie heard the smirk in Ashton’s voice as he responded, “Sounds kinky.”

Luke, having heard him, shot Ashton a scandalized look that the rest of them merely laughed at. Josie was sure she heard him mutter something about his friends corrupting his little sister, and she rolled her lips into her mouth as she glanced down at Calum to her right. He met her gaze, mirth and mischief both dancing in his eyes, silently letting her know he’d heard Luke as well.

They kept making their way down the sidewalk until Michael stopped in front of the glass walls of a vintage looking record store. He didn’t even have to tell them he wanted to go in before everyone was already turning towards the shop, Josie hopping off from Ashton’s back as she wandered inside. It smelt just like Josie thought it would; of plastic wrap, laminated cardboard, and heavily treaded carpet, yet there was something familiar about it as she danced the tips of her fingers over a few records stacked on the table in front of her.

They all shuffled through the aisles, looking at the various records, an unfamiliar classic rock song playing in the background. As Josie moved, she happened to glance up, only to freeze when her eyes startlingly met an achingly familiar pair of green ones. The breath caught in Josie’s throat, nearly choking her, as Austin stood a few tables away, a furrow knitting together his eyebrows as he registered exactly who he was looking at, too. And when he did, the confused frown transformed into a scowl, and the blood in Josie’s veins froze, ironically springing her into action, too.

“Oh, fuck me,” she whispered, unaware of Michael’s confused glance her way. The panic heightened, though, when her ex-boyfriend moved to approach her, and with her eyes widening in alarm, Josie silently turned around and swiftly made her way out of the store, ignoring Michael’s confused calls of her name.

Shit, shit, shit. She did not want to have an unprecedented confrontation with her ex-boyfriend, who—by the looks of it—seemingly had a bone to pick with her. Pushing the door of the store open, Josie stumbled out onto the sidewalk, the fresh air not enough to loosen the tightness of her throat, and she’d barely made it two steps away from the store when Austin’s voice froze her in her tracks.

“Do you ever get tired of running away?”

Josie squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, face scrunching in aggravation before she forced herself to turn around, meeting Austin’s unimpressed gaze. Despite herself, Josie rushed out, “I don’t run away.”

He scoffed, not at all convinced with his arms crossed over his chest. His tattooed biceps was a bit more pronounced under the short sleeves of his shirt than she remembered. He’d been working out, it seemed. “That’s exactly what you just did,” Austin pointed out, a wry smirk tilting at his lips. “What, you didn’t want me to see you with your new boyfriend?”

As if the universe had some kind of personal agenda against her, just as Austin had asked his question, the door behind him opened and out stepped her brother and the rest of the boys. Josie was biting down on the tip of her tongue as Austin stepped away to look at both her and the boys, and the panic quickened the pace of her heart as Austin gave them all a once over.

Luke frowned at Austin, knowing exactly who the guy was, jaw tight as he asked, “What’re you bothering my sister for?”

Just as he had asked that, Josie had simultaneously told Austin, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

She’d desperately wished the words hadn’t fallen past her mouth, noting the brief flicker of Calum’s gaze to her, and Austin rolled his eyes at her words. There was something dancing in his green eyes, and Josie recognized it as his intent of making this as difficult for her as possible, a resentment driven need for some kind of revenge over her breaking up with him more than once.

“No?” Austin cocked his head to the side, challenging. Josie was fully aware of everyone’s gaze on her—especially Calum’s. But she watched as Austin allowed his gaze to wander over the four other men, a sardonic smirk on his lips as he asked, “Tell me, Josie—which one of your brother’s buddies are you fucking around with?”

Her heart jumped out of her body, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over her head as she gaped at Austin and the obvious smug expression he wore. Oh, God. No, no, no. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down. She couldn’t even be furious with Austin for pulling this shit—Josie was too busy drowning in the panic and anxiety that churned her stomach, the busy buzz of the street silencing into the background, all too aware of her thundering heart beat. This wasn’t happening.

Josie vaguely heard Luke sputter indignantly, ready to give Austin a piece of his mind, but her ex beat him to it as she watched his gaze take in the other men standing before him. She watched as Austin’s gaze ultimately landed on a stone faced Calum, who also looked about two seconds away from breaking Austin’s nose, before her ex huffed out a humorless laugh through his smirk and jutted his chin at the tattooed brunette. “It’s this one, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, a knowing expression flickering across his face. “I saw you with him around campus a couple of months ago. Should’ve known.”

Josie’s gaze flashed to Calum, who didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he was too busy glaring at Austin, hands curled into fists at his side. Michael and Ashton remained silent, the tension enveloping them nearly suffocating as Luke’s confused glare settled on Austin. “Yeah—I told them they should hang out when Cal was visiting. . .”

The way he trailed off, his stare flickering between his hardened best friend and frozen sister, Josie could pick up on his confusion, the skepticism that was filtering into his voice as he looked between the two of them. Luke looked unsure of what to believe, his irritation with Austin’s arrival overshadowed by the bewilderment his accusation brought.

Next to her, Austin snorted. “Looked way more than hanging out to me,” he surmised, and Josie was overcome with the urge to sock him in the jaw, too. God, what was he doing? Why was he doing this?

Of course, she knew. She was just still trying to process.

His green eyes met her unblinking, startled blue ones, and Josie’s heart dropped at the guiltless look in his gaze, utterly unapologetic that he just majorly screwed things up for her. With yet another sardonic smile, he quipped, “Nice to know I’m not the only one you’ve fucked over.” He purposefully looked towards her brother, let out a scoff of contempt, before pushing past them to head back into the store.

Everyone was a bit too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Hesitantly, Josie shifted her gaze and it immediately landed on Calum. He was watching her and Josie’s throat tightened at the concern she was met with. He looked worried—not that Josie blamed him. She was pretty sure she hadn’t taken a breath in the past few minutes.

Calum looked like he wanted to step over to her, to hold her hand, but he also looked conflicted, unsure of what the right move was. Josie wasn’t sure, either. Yet her softened gaze remained on him, hoping her silence would convey that she understood, that this was all so royally fucked.

But then she looked at Luke, who had been watching them this whole time, and Josie’s throat locked up when Luke’s blue eyes narrowed. He took a step away so he could look at both Calum and Josie, eyebrows drawing together as Michael and Ashton exchanged a look. “Is he. . .” Luke trailed off, a disbelieving scoff escaping him as he looked at Calum and Josie. “Is that true? Did you two—”

All she could make out in his tone was one of disbelief, nothing else to give away how he was feeling. Maybe he was as numb as Josie felt.

Her lips parted but no words came out, because Josie truly didn’t know what to say. Should she confirm Austin’s accusation—his truth? Or deny, deny, deny? It seemed that in that moment, all of the sneaking around behind Luke’s back and subtle lies were starting to choke her, daring her to spew out another one right to his face after basically being told the truth from a third party. Sure, maybe Josie could play off Austin’s words as some jealous, resentful ex, and maybe Luke would believe her.

But, God. She was sick of the lies.

Before she could even decide what to do, Calum moved, and Josie’s gaze instantly fell upon him as he came to stand next to her. She watched him, wide eyed and parted lips, as his gaze remained fixed on Luke, who was watching him with sharp eyes. “We aren’t fucking around,” Calum told him, all confident and firm despite the bombshell he was dropping. “And it wasn’t just a random hook up. Josie and I are together.”

Her heart was in her throat, anything she could possibly say dying on her tongue as she looked up at Calum, eyes wide at his confession. They hadn’t quite discussed when the right time would be to tell Luke about them, and Austin had made sure they wouldn’t after what he’d done. And as surprised as Josie was that Calum took it upon himself to confirm the truth, there was also the tiniest bit of relief she felt relax her stiff muscles. The kind of relief that came with letting go of a secret that had been weighing her down for too long.

Calum’s gaze flickered down to her and Josie inhaled softly at the look in his eyes; soft, reassuring, encouraging. It was enough to make it easier for Josie to breathe.

But when she looked back at Luke, who was still silent, it felt as though an iron grasp had found its way around her heart.

And instead of exploding on them in a fury as Josie had feared, Luke remained still, Ashton and Michael watching the scene unfold intently. But Josie remained focused on Luke. His expression was empty, features never giving away what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Luke, who was so expressive, but looked utterly blank in that moment.

Who was quiet. Too quiet—a complete contradiction to the betrayed anger that was swirling in his eyes. And, Josie realized with her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach, Luke’s silence was a whole lot worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

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